#yes this I am crossposting this on the same day leave me be

[gh0st-4ss]

> Oh human race, born to fly upward, wherefore at a little wind dost thou so fall? <

[concreteburialplot]

VIRALITY // 11

11 - Peak Fashion

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!oc [vallie] 👀

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 5k

warnings: angsty? but cute?, jealous nicholas, sassy but goofy noah, something revealed, very short time skips, 18+ MDNI

summary: vallie abruptly wakes to a million texts to meet for a last minute music video. upon arriving she discovers that the band is not at all prepared which sets her and noah on a mission.

Reminder: This contains the very mild crossover with Christian 'Kras' Anthony from Chase Atlantic ...... and introduces another extremely mild crossover 🫣 they are both merely for side character/reference purposes. Nothing huge, don’t worry lol just for fun

Disclaimer - This story is semi-AU since it does not follow actual timelines or events. The band is still fairly small & does things entirely on their own with no other support.

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

VALLIE

Sunlight warms my eyelids and gently lulls me awake. My eyes shoot open at the realization that I have once again fallen asleep somewhere that isn’t my home – well my pseudo-home anyway. It seems that anywhere else feels homier than my showroom-esque Airbnb.

This time I don’t wake up in a panic, the smell of Christian’s woodsy cologne reassures me that I’m somewhere safe. The last time stamp I saw on my phone last night was 4:30 am. We had spent the whole night catching up, watching our favorite comfort shows, and binging all his favorite American snacks that he can’t get in Australia.

I reach over to the nightstand to grab my phone. A groan escapes me when I see that the time reads 8:47 am. My brows curve up at the ridiculous amount of notifications that fill my screen. While my job doesn’t really have “days off”, I had no specific plans or meetings booked for the day. So, it’s unexpected.

Most of them were from Bryan, the Omens’ photographer that I met at the warehouse with Noah. The messages flood my screen with missed calls and texts.

Bryan: Warehouse. 8 am.

Bryan: Hello? Are you awake?

Bryan: Music video. Today.

Bryan: I think you should be there.

Bryan: Hey!!! Music video !! Today !! 8 am !!

Bryan: Dude

Bryan: We’re starting. Show up whenever, if you want.

Fuck.

Kras continues to snooze next to me and I know that not even a plane crash could wake him up. So, I press a quick peck on his cheek before I roll out of bed and quickly begin gathering my belongings.

I’m rushing because well… Bryan seems like the only Omen who wants to cooperate or include me in any actual band activities. So, I have to be here. And I’m already an hour late.

I leave a small note on Christian’s dining table, saying how nice it was to see him, thanking him for the pep talk, and that I’ll see him and the rest of his band in a zoom meeting next Monday morning.

I’m still not sure if saying yes to his job offer was the right choice. I’m already stretched thin enough between my main client and now Omens, adding Chase might be more than I can handle. While my main client’s fanbase is much more… intensive, Chase Atlantic is still larger than both of them. And that swirls a terrifying pit of anxiety in my stomach because I’m not quite sure I’m equipped with enough experience to handle it all.

Gravel cracks beneath my tires as I pull up to the warehouse. I gather my bed head hair into the closest thing to a bun I can get it and try to rub off the slept in mascara smudged under my eyes.

My engine isn’t fully off for half a second before I’m out and locking my door.

I smooth out the exact same outfit I wore to Christian’s yesterday since I didn’t have time to stop home. Usually, I would never show up to a work event in sweatpants, a cropped cami, sneakers, and a flannel, but here we are. It’s not like the band is particularly formal anyway.

I see Folio and Jolly first, who both give me strange looks, like they’re surprised I’m here. Then, Noah and Nicholas once I get to the entrance. They seem equally as shocked too.

“What are you doing here?” Noah asks, lined with his usual snarky tone, seeming almost offended by my presence.

“I invited her.” Bryan speaks up from the background, adjusting the camera around his neck. “And you’re about an hour late by the way.”

Regardless of his criticism, he gives me a smile and a side hug – which surprises me.

Aside from Nicholas – for…obvious reasons – Bryan is the one who meets me with the most warmth out of the five of them.

I offer a closed lipped smile and a small awkward wave to the band. I wasn’t prepared to accidentally crash a music video shoot.

“Nice outfit, you just get out of bed?” Noah quips.

I roll my sleep-deprived eyes, “Nice to see you too, Noah.”

The rest of the band disperses into whatever they were doing before I arrived.

Nick walks up to me and I can tell he’s trying his best to act casual.

“Hey.” He says simply but quietly between us.

“Hey.” I match his somewhat awkward tone.

My gaze reluctantly meets his and I immediately regret it. His hair is pulled up into a fluffy ponytail with his hair flat against his head and he looks so good.

This was going to be more difficult than I thought.

“Val?” He asks trying to get my attention.

“Huh?” I shake my head from the fuzz sitting in my brain.

“Oh, I just said it’s nice to see you.” He says demurely. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I take note of the dullness of his normally bright eyes, and the dark bags beneath them. It makes me wonder if he got as little sleep as I did.

The energy of this whole ordeal is so… odd. It makes me feel as though I’m once again missing parts of a puzzle that I’m not aware of.

His gives me a once over and lingers a bit on my flannel.

“Oh! Right!” I set my bag down on a nearby table before slipping the flannel off my arms, giving it a lazy fold, and offering it over to him. “Here have it back.”

He instinctively takes the folded garment, looking at it like I just handed him the wrong Chipotle order. His brows furrow, initially in confusion then into something much different.

Before he responds it hits me.

I fucked up.

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

“This isn’t mine.” He states in a slighted tone.

“Oh- Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night–“ I immediately realize that probably wasn’t the best thing to follow that up with. “I just need a coffee.”

“Right.” He lands the flannel back in my hands. He goes to pass me and stops as he’s grazing my shoulder. “And who’s ever it is, has shitty taste in cologne.”

My eyes widen.

Did I just put Kras’ proposed scheme into action by accident?

It’s fine.

It’s perfectly fine.

I’m fine.

I discreetly shake out the tips of my fingers and glance up to finally take in my surroundings fully. The floor is covered in a massive tarp, covered in… dirt?

I steal the phone from my tote pocket and carefully walk over to where Bryan is messing with some equipment. I shuffle right up next to him and whisper, “What…exactly is happening here?”

“I don’t know. Noah just woke us all up at the ass crack of dawn and said we needed to do this today.” Bryan shrugs, not stopping his actions for me, and continues walking carrying a large umbrella light.

“…and you all just went along with it?”

“Listen. I just work here man.” He sets down the heavy light and sighs dramatically.

I can’t help but chuckle at his verbiage.

“Okay… and why did you have to drag me into this?”

“Well, you have a job to do, don’t you?” He questions as if he doesn’t know the answer.

“I mean y-“ I begin but he cuts me off.

“Exactly.” He walks back over to a pile of equipment on a plastic table, and I follow him around like a puppy while he talks. “And you want them to like you, yes?”

“Well, I mean,” My eyes glance over at Nicholas who’s sat on a stool tuning a teal bass. The memories of our bodies entwined graze over my tongue and his working fingers sends a tingle between my legs.

Well, one of them likes me.

Is my first reflex to say.

But I’m not even sure if that’s true, especially not now. I should know better than to trust band boys anyway. I manage them, I’ve been around them since the start of my career. I’ve been best friends with Kras for nearly a decade. I’ve seen what band men do. How they treat the women they use to get off, even the ones they love.

“Look. They need you.” He says, his tone more serious than before and leans against the wall beside him with crossed arms. “Whether they believe it or not, they need you. You and I both know that. If Noah wants to be an arrogant, stubborn asshole, then let him. But don’t give up on them. They just need time.” His eyes drift to the four of them messing around with their instruments. “You’re stuck with them one way or another. And they’re not a bad bunch to be stuck with. Trust me.” He gives me a half smile before nudging my arm. “Loosen up a little, you might find that you like ‘em.”

Bryan pushes himself off the wall going to find some other task and I’m left with this peptalk I wasn’t expecting, especially from him.

I take the time to watch them, really watch them. Noah is well … Noah, so there’s some grumpy tension that follows him – but the rest of them, even while grumpy and irritated, flow together effortlessly.

Noah ripped everyone from their sleep and yet, they’re still all here. Sure, you could write that off as good work ethic, but I think it’s more than that. As unpredictable as he is, they let Noah lead them. At least for the most part.

They all showed up for him today and the whole time I’ve known them.

‘This band is all he has.’ Nicholas’ words echo in my ears from that rainy night in his car.

Maybe they all know that, and maybe they all honor it.

They all love him enough to show up and keep showing up.

Christian is right. I can’t let my feelings cloud this. If not for me, then for them.

As I clear from my dissociation, I realize I must’ve hyper fixated on their bustling about because the only thing I see now is their attire… or the lack thereof.

“Wait, wait, wait.” I cautiously step around the piles of dirt on a brown tarp to reach Noah. “Is this the whole outfit? This is what you’re wearing for the video?”

Noah sighs in exasperation and drops the corner of tarp he’s holding to face me. “Yes? Do you have a problem with it?”

“Problem with it? It is the problem.” I give him a once over, just black jeans and plain grey shirt with a faded CocaCola logo on it. I reach to his sides and give the seems a small tug to pull the logo taught against his thin chest. “You see that? What does that look like to you?”

Noah raises a snarky brow at me, “A Coke logo?”

“Wrong. That-” I drop the edges of his shirt and stab his sternum with my finger. “That is unpaid brand advertising.”

I can tell he immediately wants to roll his eyes but doesn’t when he realizes I’m right.

The rest of the boys wear similar outfits, jeans, t-shirts, hoodies.

“Okay, well this is all we brought last minute, and the house is like an hour away, I’m not driving back there.”

There’s no way I’m letting them shoot an entire video in dirt with such casual outfits. I tug at my lip and tap my fingertips on my arm in thought.

As if a lightbulb appears above my head, a possible solution crosses my mind.

“I think I saw a thrift shop in that strip where the bar is.” I shrug, “I can try to find something there. But I can’t just let you play around in dirt like this.”

Noah raises his brows and crosses his tattooed arms across his chest, “Well I’m sure as fuck not letting you pick out outfits for us.”

I walk over to my bag, picking up easily and walking towards the warehouse opening. “Then you better hurry up and get in my car.”

Noah and I had been looking through racks of dusty clothes for about 10 minutes without speaking to each other. I knew a thrift shop was somewhat of a risky choice, but after not seeing anything worth shit for a bit had me nervous.

I’m not sure why I’m nervous – but I shouldn’t be making risky bold decisions with them.

Across the racks I catch Noah picking up a thick peacoat. At first glance, I find it absolutely repulsive, but for a music video? It could be exactly what we need. At least it’d be better than a Coca-Cola shirt. For the vibe I think he’s going for, it might be perfect.

He lifts up the hanger and flips it around, his brows knitting intently at it. He likes it.

I haven’t known him that long, but he’s pretty transparent, no matter how mysterious he thinks he is.

I quickly divert my eyes back down when he goes to return the coat to its place on the rack. I know that if I say I like it, he’ll immediately be against it, so I keep my mouth shut.

“So, what kinda vibe are you going for?” I ask casually.

He glares over at me, “What do you care? Changing our clothes was your idea remember?”

“Whoa.” I put my hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, I’m sure you wanna put us in the same preppy clothes you put your other big mysterious client in. Which I’m still convinced is Harry Styles by the way.”

I roll my eyes knowing which “client” he’s referring to since I haven’t mentioned that I took on a third one yet. He means the first one, the one that landed me here in the first place, my ‘big success’. At least that’s what they kept telling me when sitting in meeting after meeting getting pitched different ‘next big artists’. And somehow, I got stuck with Noah & friends™️.  

“No, it’s not Harry and I don’t put them in preppy clothes.” I reply absentmindedly sifting through hangers.

“Them?” He picks up on my slip immediately and my eyes widen slightly. “It’s a band?”

I clear my throat and shake my head. “No – no that’s not what I–“

“It is, isn’t it?” His brows lower at me. “It better not be a conflict of interest, that would be a breach of contract and I-“

“Relax. I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t have signed contract if it was a conflict of interest.” I glare over at him with annoyed, tired eyes.

I sigh then allow my tense shoulders to roll back. “Yes. It’s a band. But they aren’t a heavy band they’re ehm…. more classic rock, hippie-ish?” I shake my head. “And trust me, I would NOT put you or the rest of you in any of their clothes.”

I press my lips together trying to stifle a giggle that threatens to escape at the thought of Noah in a glitzy jumpsuit.

“What’s so funny?” He furrows his brows at me in offense. “You don’t think I could pull off some hippie clothes?” He asks seriously, but I can tell he doesn’t believe it either, he’s just trying to be difficult.

Then it occurs to me that this reverse-psychology defiant behavior may work to my advantage.

“No, actually. I don’t think you could.” I shrug, sliding some clothes over. “Just like I don’t think you could pull off that hideous peacoat.”

His brows rise higher than I’ve ever seen them. “Oh really? Maybe that’ll be the one I choose then.”

Checkmate.

I ignore it to not put too much emphasis on it. “You never told me what’s the vibe you want.”

“Hm.” He pauses, maybe he doesn’t even know. “I’m not sure. Cult-y? Business-y? Underground elite secret society-y?”

“Wow.” I say with wide, surprised eyes and exaggerating my mouth around the word. “That’s… specific. And you planned to achieve that with graphic tees?”

“Shut up.”

“Right.”

“Would I know your other band?” He inquires, the curiosity obviously eating at him.

“Shut up.”

“Right.”

We continue to mind our own business in our individual searches while early 2000’s pop plays through the small, dingy shop.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Noah lifting up an obviously homemade PitBull t-shirt.

I can’t help but let out a loud laugh.

He snaps his head over at me with a goofy grin, “What you don’t think Mr. Worldwide is peak fashion?”

I shake my head laughing, “No, I definitely wouldn’t say he is.”

“I think this might be the most badass piece of clothing I’ve ever seen.” He seems half serious and half trying to hold back a cackle.

“It’s a… choice. But you know what? It might be perfect for you.”

He feigns offense, “Why because you think I’m so badass?”

A laugh erupts from me. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Well, I’m getting it. I might wear it in the video.” He throws the white shirt into his cart.

“Great.” I reply sarcastically.

The search seemed to be going a bit better the further we dig. I found a couple pieces that might work for the rest of the band to fit into Noah’s vaguely hyper-specific theme. He’s done the same, just not as successfully.

Across the aisle I notice his hands grasping the sides of a hideous white puffy jacket with patches of sherpa all over it and an oversized hood. The nylon material rasps as he rubs it between his inked fingertips. My brows curve at how he looks at it like it’s some lost treasure.

He pauses before turning to me, lifting it up to showcase its entirety.

“What do you think about this?” He asks genuinely, which throws me off. It sounds so authentic, so real, and not hidden behind any sort of sassy, crude walls, or ulterior motives. I don’t know if he’s ever truly talked to me like that before, especially not sober.

I’m still cautious since he’s fooled me before, so I stay neutral by lifting my shoulders to a shrug. “I don’t know. Why don’t you try it on?”

He eagerly scoots past his cart that takes up the entire aisle and walks to the mirror. The thick zipper hisses at how quickly he undoes it, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

I watch him in some form of awe, maybe it’s more curiosity of his behavior. The more I get to know him, the stranger he seems.

He slips his skinny arms through the sleeves, and it fits him loosely but just right, like it’s made for him – though that doesn’t detract from how it still looks a little ridiculous, just less so now that it’s on him.

He turns back to me and spreads out his arms like a child showing off a Halloween costume.

“Well?” He questions.

“I mean the jacket is still pretty silly.” I chuckle. “But it looks nice on you.” I compliment honestly.

A toothy grin spreads across his mouth and turns back to the mirror, “Yeah, I think so too.”

Quiet falls between us again and we move on to different sections. I get so focused on rifling through the clothes that I realize I’ve lost track of Noah. I scan the small store and can’t spot him.

“Noah?” I call and as if right on cue, I feel something dropped around my head followed by a scurrying Noah.

“What the hell?” I reach up and catch the edges of the large hat pulling it off and finding that he’s dropped a massive sombrero on my head. “Hey!”

He chuckles and pulls his shoulders to a shrug, “Might be perfect for you.” He mocks my words from before about the Pitbull shirt.

“Ha-ha very funny.” I roll my eyes playfully. “I’ll get you back.”

“Bring it on.”

What follows is a series of us trying to find the most ridiculous shit to throw on or at each other.

First, I got an ugly, dusty, grandma shawl that I threw on Noah’s shoulders as best as I could before quickly walking in the other direction.

Then, when I wasn’t paying attention and with great stealth, he was able to drop a yellowing Disney rain poncho over my body.

Now, he’s stood in front of a full-length mirror holding up various different pieces of black clothing. In my stroll through the hat section, I found a leopard print fedora perfect for his big head. I sneak up behind him, making sure not to get in frame of the mirror. I reach up on my tip toes to somewhat reach his head, tossing the hat up to bridge the rest, hoping that it would land.

It does land, crooked atop his head.

I cover my mouth to hide a chuckle before backing away slowly. Before I can make my escape, he snaps his head over in my direction, jostling the hat to fly off his head. In a swift move, he catches it with fumbling hands.

“Hey that’s not fair! You’re tiny and fast!” He plops the leopard fedora back on his head and anchors a fist at each hip playfully.

The goofy sight of it all makes me double over nearly cackling. “It’s not my fault you’re big and clunky!”

He pulls the flimsy hat off his head, squishing it thin between his fingers pointing at me. “You better watch your back, Thornhill.”

“Ooh, you’re so scary, Sebastian.” I tease with raised hands feigning fear.

“You think you’re so funny huh?” He speaks directly at me probably trying to distract me, but I catch him snatching another random hat off the rack while he slowly makes his way towards me.

My eyes glance at down at his actions and I make a run for it. I don’t know what I expected but, he chases me around the thrift shop like we’re little kids in a toy store. I stealthily weave through metal racks full of musty clothes trying to lose him, giggles pouring from both our mouths.

I ignore the judging looks from the employees and the few patrons shopping around us. It’s a blessing that I can’t hear the murmuring around us. My ears are full of only my own heartbeat and the sound of his playful and competitive laughter.

It’s then that I realize I hadn’t fully heard him laugh before, not sober anyway, and it’s so… endearing. It’s one of those laughs that’s contagious and only makes you laugh harder. Which isn’t something I expected from him. None of this is really what I expected.

He finally corners me in the scarf section. I spin around in the tiny space between us and within that split second he’s snatched a bizarrely colored thin scarf and throws it around my neck like a towel, keeping hold of each end.

Just as fast, I grasp a similar scarf and match his actions, throwing the scarf up around his neck. With the speed and rush of the motion, I accidentally tugged him closer and lower to me.

My eyes flutter up and the edges of his laughing grin shorten when his eyes meet mine. Unexpectedly, my breath hitches in my throat. I never noticed just how chocolate-y brown his eyes were until now. Normally his eyes are so serious or angry or… drunk, but right now, they’re wide and warm and just as confused as mine. His eyes shift side to side seemingly searching mine for something I’m not quite sure of.

Being this close to him really emphasizes just how tall he is, the top of my head barely meets his shoulders and for some reason, that realization makes my heart thump harder against my ribcage.  

I’m frozen where I stand, I should pull away, but I can’t. I shouldn’t enjoy the butterflies that run rampant in my tummy. It’s just Noah after all. The asshole that somehow always ends up drunk on the floor. The one that tells me how to do my job and how not to manage him. The one that told Nick that I’m a ‘stuck-up corporate bitch’.

But, that’s the same Noah that’s chasing me around this store like we’re playing tag on a playground.

My tummy twists and my breath sharply lodges itself in my throat when I catch his eyes dart to my lips – once.

Twice.

He moves closer, just marginally, and then again – eyes, lips.

I mimic his actions, my eyes flicker from his brown eyes to light pink lips.

Then he’s even closer – so close I can feel his exhaled breath brush past my nose.

Again.

Eyes, lips.

I feel his knuckles just graze my shirt where he’s still holding the scarf at either end and it sends electricity down to my fingertips.

Then, a strand of his long brown hair falls from behind his ear, and it seems to snap him from our daze. He lets out an awkward chuckle, steps back and slides the scarf off my neck by one end.

“We should probably wrap up here… I’m sure the guys are sick of waiting for us.” He scratches the back of his neck and diverts his eyes from me.

It seems like the right thing to do, but for some reason it leaves me a little disappointed.

Disappointed in what exactly?

What the fuck just happened?

I pull the scarf off of him in the same manner and hang it back up on its hook. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Checking out is hushed and awkward as we stand next to each other in front of the workers that had to watch us nearly destroy the store.

We walk out silently until I notice that he’s walking out with the leopard print fedora proudly plopped on his head.

“You really bought that stupid hat?” I chuckle calling after him carrying 2 heavy, giant bags full of clothes.

“Yeah duh-“ He begins looking back but trips over his feet across the exit door frame.

I bring a plastic bag-occupied hand up to cover my mouth to hide a giggle.

“Shut up.” He directs me with a pointed hand even though I hadn’t said anything.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kinda goofy?” I laugh, shaking my head and clicking my key fob to unlock the car.

“Goofy?” He gasps as if he’s offended. “Valerie this is peak fashion.”

I chuckle and roll my eyes, “Get in the fucking car, will you?”

He laughs and matches my actions of throwing the heavy bags in the backseat. He slides in the passenger of my blue Mercedes rental and the clunky weight of his lanky body shakes the small car. He stuffs his legs into the tiny, allotted space for them. I would make a comment about how large he is, but I’m not in the business of boosting men’s egos.

I press the push-to-start and begin navigating my way out of the parking lot. It takes a bit for my phone to connect and begin playing music, but when it does it fills the car with a familiar tune.

Noah reaches over and spins the dial to turn up the music. It doesn’t fully register in my mind what song it is until Noah speaks up.

“Is this the hippie rock band you’re representing?” He asks, a bit of sharpness to his voice.

“I-I well, no, I just-“ I’m caught off guard and stutter. I’m new to handling more than one client and having them not know about each other seemed like the best course of action. But I particularly didn’t want Noah to know since I knew he’d compare what I do with others with what I do with them.

“It is, isn’t it?” He snaps. “You manage Greta Van Fleet?”

“I… well,” I pause then sigh out of pure exhaustion. “Yes. I manage them.” I say flatly, somewhat annoyed. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business though.”

He’s silent for a moment, seemingly just taking in the song – Lover, Leaver.

“You’re right. They’re nothing like us.” He announces simply. “The voice on that singer is insane though.”

I can’t stop my brows from furrowing, and from one abruptly propping up.

He’s not upset.

He’s not upset?

“Yeah… I know.” I reply cautiously, glancing over at him to decipher the unbothered look on his face.

“Well, don’t look so surprised, they’re good. I can appreciate good music, can’t I?” He lets a few moments pass. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. They sound so familiar…” He trails off in thought.

“I know, you were expecting Harry Styles.” I joke. “But it’s not, so you can chill.” I tap my fingertips across the leather steering wheel.

“I knew it wasn’t Harry.” He shifts in his seat, crossing his arms across his skinny waist with his hands draping over his sides. He rests his head on the door looking out the window. “If it was, you wouldn’t have taken us.”

“I bet you wish it was Harry Styles then huh?” I say as a somewhat half joke and glance over at him while mindlessly tapping my fingertips on the steering wheel. He stays silent, just watching the trees go by. I can’t tell if the silence is intentional or if he’s just zoned out.

Some time passes before he returns to the conversation.

“Well, I don’t care if you represent them. Just know that I’m not dressing up like some wizard man like your other singer.” He warns firmly with a playful pointed finger.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sebastian.”

Next Chapter -> 12 - Liar, Liar*

tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @kingdomof-omens @persuasivus @strawberryruffilo @thebadchic @the-hell-i-overcame @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @cncohshit @dominuslunae [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

A/N: Thank you if you've made all the way to chp 11! lol thank you for reading anything i write. thank you so much for every like, reblog, ask, or comment. It means the world to me truly. Thank you.

i love hearing your thoughts so feel free to share! (i'm really bad at responding to comments/asks but i still love them 🥺)

[therenlover]

One Last Night In Madripoor (An 18+ Helmut Zemo/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Tags: Smut, SoftDom!Zemo, Hook Up, Semi-Public Sex, Drinking, Safe Sex, Explicit Consent, First Meeting, Wall Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Swearing, Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count: 4200~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

---------

Madripoor was a place like nothing you had ever seen.

It wasn’t that the sights were anything special. You could find seedy criminal underbellies lined with neon where the streets ran red with blood anywhere if you looked hard enough. Even the ocean view didn’t do much to set it apart from any other place visually. No, Madripoor’s scenery and architecture weren’t what kept your eyes wide with wonder whenever you found yourself wandering through the winding back-alleys without a purpose. It was the people that kept you around.

Thieves, pirates, and miscreants had been taking shelter at the docks since before anyone there could remember. It was a city borne of the underbelly of society, the people nobody sees, but you saw them. You saw them every day when you stood in the main market waiting for an easy bounty. There were faces everywhere; big and small, tall and short, scarred and flawless. No two people in the streets of Madripoor were ever exactly alike. If you needed to remember someone, their unique face was right there waiting in your mind.

After living on the island for almost 6 months, most people were already cataloged neatly in your mind as friend or foe. This man, though, he was new. He was different.

The night was still young. There was some trouble at the Princess Bar that ended with Selby dead and a few murderers loose in the streets with a price on their heads, but you steered clear. Going after the killers meant going up against hundreds if not thousands of trained bounty hunters and assassins and no amount of money was worth dying over now, not while you were so close to freedom. Instead of chasing your doom, you decided to head to your room, get dressed up, and head out to wherever the music was loudest in search of a place to forget about your problems for the night. The thudding sounds of poorly DJ-ed club remixes led you to Leonardo’s Place. That’s where you found him.

You were two drinks in and sticking close to the wall when he stumbled into your line of sight. What initially caught your eye was his dancing. He couldn’t move for shit. What kept your attention, though, was his face.

There was transience to him, like at any moment someone could bump into him and he would disappear without a trace at their touch. Despite that he was gaudy. Everything about his clothing screamed wealth and fine taste from the thread count of his obnoxious purple turtleneck to the shine on his boots. He was strange, a walking contradiction, and one who had never had the pleasure of gracing your presence or screwing you over in the past. In the simplest of terms, he intrigued you. With nothing left to lose you downed the last of your cocktail and made your way to the gap in the crowd where the stranger had staked his claim. It was game time.

“You come here alone?” You asked. Your voice was barely a whisper above the heavy thrumming of the music.

He gave you a long look up and down before answering as if he were trying to size you up. Something about having his gaze linger on your body made your heartbeat soar. “I’m not looking for company,” His accented tone was gruff but left a sliver of room for reconsideration. You took the chance. What could go wrong?

With as much tact and grace as you could muster you let yourself slip a little closer to him. “What, do I look too expensive for you?” you teased, before backing off with a grin, “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not here for that. My job is a little more… dangerous.” As you danced, the hem of your dress rode up your thigh just enough to reveal the knife holster in your garter belt. It pleased you greatly to see this handsome stranger do a double-take; that meant he was looking at your upper thigh in the first place. “I just liked what I saw in you… do you like what you see in me?”

Somehow, your little joke had endeared him to you, however minutely. Instead of brushing you off the man paused his jerky dancing for a moment to really take you in. Then, he caved. “Would you like a drink?” He asked.

You smirked. “Who would I be if I turned down a free drink from a handsome stranger,”

He met you in the middle as he offered you his hand. “I never promised it would be free,”

So, the two of you found yourselves at the bar, bodies leaned into each other and away from the rest of the sweltering crowd as the bartender slid you your order. The stranger was drinking a brandy straight while you opted for a sidecar. It was enough alcohol that you were starting to feel pretty buzzed, but you still felt in full control of yourself. You took a long sip before speaking. “So, what should I call you?”

It took him a moment to respond but once he did, he seemed sure of himself. “You can call me Helmut, but Baron is fine as well,”

You cocked up an eyebrow. “Is that a nickname?”

“More of a title,”

He took a drink as you gawked. “Like royalty?”

“Not like. I am,”

Your cheeks flushed. The rational part of your mind was so stunned by the ease with which Helmut lied that it seemed to short circuit completely, leaving you very puzzled and more than a little intrigued. “Well, pardon me, Mr. Baron. What’s royalty like you doing in a place like this?”

“There are plenty of reasons a man like me would have business here. A woman as beautiful as you, though… not so much,” he waved his hand in loose gestures as he spoke, “Why risk your life and beauty for this? A life living in the underground where you cannot so much as dream of seeing the stars?”

You finished your drink in one large swig. It burned down your throat but you relished in the pain. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be born in a place where we can see the stars. Funny enough, though, I’m just about to get out,”

“Is that right?”

“I finally saved up enough money from small jobs to buy my way out from under the Power Broker’s thumb,” Something about the way Helmut smiled at you made you feel safe. It was like you could tell him your worst, darkest secrets and not feel an ounce of fear or guilt. “I’m nothing special here, a small-time bounty hunter, and I kept it that way for a reason. I’m not valuable and I don’t know much. If I just pay my dues and keep the money coming until I can get their claws out of my back, I should be free to leave with a freighter tomorrow morning,”

Helmut was quick to respond. “Ah, travel by freighter. It’s terribly dangerous to be a stowaway, you know? Impossible to predict quite what the seas will be like,”

“Well, that’s just a risk I’ll have to take to get out of here and stop… what was it that you said I was doing? Risking my life and beauty?”

The two of you chuckled as Helmut took one last drink to empty his glass. Then, the conversation stilled. Around you people were alive, gyrating to the music as their pulses thumped to the beat, but it was like they weren’t even there. Instead, your whole being was focused on the strange man in front of you who had stolen away your sensibilities with his cool tone and thick accent. He made you feel alive. No, more than alive. Every color was brighter, every sound was sharper, every sip of your drink was crisper. He was a once-in-a-lifetime man, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime night. Oh, to hell with it!

“I like you, Baron,” you purred, pressing yourself close to him. His breath hitched the moment you touched him. He acted as if it had been a very long time since he was last touched like that. “And I think you like me too. In fact, I think you like me enough that we should take this conversation somewhere a little more private. What do you say?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his gloved hand made its way around your wrist, and in a moment’s time, he was pulling you across the crowded dance floor towards a small, secluded hallway. You assumed that meant yes.

The instant you made it to the shelter of the shadows Helmut was on you like a man starved. One of his hands was quick to explore the skin just above the hem of your dress as the other pressed against the wall, caging you in and holding you as a more than willing hostage to his affections. He didn’t kiss your face, and you weren’t complaining about that, but he did put his mouth to good use sucking a dark bruise into your collarbone. His ministrations only stopped when a high, keening sound escaped your lips.

“You like that, don’t you, meine kleine schlampe?” he growled through gritted teeth. Something about his tone turned your already weak legs to jelly. The second you went limp in his grip, though, he pulled back. Straightening himself out, he offered you a steadying arm. You took it without hesitation. “I’m terribly sorry to be so rude. I assure you that I am not usually the type of man to hook up with someone on a whim, I’ve simply been… indisposed for many years and haven’t had many opportunities for pleasure, especially not with a woman as beautiful as you,”

His compliment was enough to have you blushing like a schoolgirl. You had killed more people than you could reasonably count, and probably fucked even more, but something about the way Helmut looked and sounded and acted made you feel almost innocent to his advances. He was a drug and you needed to get your fix before he disappeared forever.

“Does that mean you think I’m special?” You asked, all doe eyes with an innocent smile. Helmut ate it right up.

“Yes, schatzi. Very special,”

You hitched a leg up, letting your heel dig into his expensive dress pants and drag him closer to you once again. “First your little slut and now your little treasure? Which one is it, Helmut?”

“And so smart,”

“Move, Baron!”

At your insistence, Helmut was on you once again, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck as he fiddled with his gloves, yanking them off and shoving them in his back pocket before he continued. “So demanding,” he chided, and yet he continued to lavish you with affection, his hand climbing higher and higher up your thigh. Your back was pressed flush to the wall now, and you were painfully aware of just how warm Helmut was. He smelled like a rich man’s cologne and yet his skin tasted of cheap soap when you leaned in to give him a bruise of his own.

“You love it,” you replied. He let out a husky laugh.

“I suppose I do,” he chuckled, and then his fingers brushed over your core. Your knees buckled. Helmut kept you upright with his body as he continued to taunt you through your underwear, but he seemed more confident now, almost cocky. “My needy schatzi, have you no patience?”

Your response was breathless; a confession.

“Not with you,”

Something about your words lit a fire in Helmut’s eyes. In an instant he had your leg hiked up while he ground his hardened length against your clothed wetness. Your mind went blank. He felt big. A mindless whimper fell from your lips.

“How do you want me?” Helmut asked. As he spoke he ran a light finger down your elevated thigh. You offered up another whimper. “I’ll need you to use your words and tell me what you want or I can’t give it to you,” His tone had you wet enough that you worried you were dripping.

With a gulp, you managed to fumble out the words. “I’ll blow you first if you promise to fuck me,”

That had him grinning like a wolf. “Perhaps you are my little schlampe, so eager to get down on your knees for me…” And you were. Even on shaky legs, you found yourself happily falling to your knees as the Baron fumbled with his fly. It was only then that you found yourself gazing down the hall towards the cacophony of lights and sounds and people maybe 20 feet away from your hiding place in the shadows. As if he could sense your discomfort, Helmut paused. “Are you alright?”

You nodded quickly. “I just forgot we were out in the open for a second,”

“Do you want to stop? If the location is the problem, I would gladly pause so we can find a new hideaway,” he stopped short, looking down and meeting your heavily lidded gaze, “or perhaps the idea of putting on a show excites you?” Your heart jumped out of your chest. Helmut noticed. “Well, if my little schlampe is so keen on putting on a show, she should get a move on,”

That was your cue to get to work. In a swift motion, you finished unzipping his fly and shifted his boxers, letting his lovely cock spring free. It was a pleasant penis and far as they went, average in length but thick with a leaking purple tip at half-mast. Just looking at it made you clamp your legs together.

Slowly, you gave a tentative lick up the underside of his length. He felt heavy on your tongue in the best of ways. Helmut jerked upward, a man possessed. You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

“Less talking, more working little schlam-” you cut Helmut off quickly by taking most of his length into his mouth. That seemed to shut him up. His wolf-like grin had dissolved into a slack-jawed mess the second you started to suck him off. Oh, this was going to be fun.

For the most part, the Baron let you set the pace, bobbing your head and taking as much of his length as you comfortably could, but after a short while his hands were buried in your hair as he fought the urge to buck into your throat, hard. With a particularly rough snap of his hips, Helmut pulled away.

“You are an angel from heaven, schatzi,” he groaned, pulling himself slowly from your mouth as you got your first good deep breath in a while, “but a deal is a deal, and it wouldn’t be quite fair if I got to have all the fun, now would it?” Your breath hitched in your throat. Finally time for the main event.

Helmut was surprisingly gentle with you as he offered you a hand and helped you back up, only pausing to wipe a line of dribble off your chin with his thumb. With anyone else, it would have felt wholly humiliating but with Helmut… well, it did things to you you would rather not admit. You quirked up an eyebrow, though, when he got on his knees in turn, mirroring your past position. “What are you doing, Baron?”

“I simply assumed my sweet schatzi would enjoy a reward for taking my cock so well,” his words had you biting your lip as your cheeks flushed, “now be a good girl and take what I give you. I want to hear those pretty noises you made earlier,” With that, his face disappeared under your skirt. He pulled down your panties and… snickered?

“What now?” you groaned, squirming as his hot breath hit your exposed nub.

“You’re sopping wet,” he replied. Out of habit, you moved to shut your legs but found Helmut’s large hand was holding them open. “I do enjoy being sandwiched between your thighs, but you shouldn’t hide yourself from me. Take your pleasure. You’ve earned it,” That was when he began his assault on your folds.

You had been with plenty of partners over the years, all with varying proficiencies when it came to giving pleasure, but no one had ever made you feel quite as good as Helmut did while you gripped his hair and rode his face with reckless abandon. He always hit just the right spot, alternating between sucking on your sensitive clit and running his rough tongue in sloppy circles against it. In no time flat your pleasure was building toward’s its peak as your knees trembled.

“Helmut,” you squeaked, “Helmut I’m gonna cuuuUUOH!”

You were suddenly thrown over the edge of pleasure as the Baron worked you open with his fingers, pressing that spot inside of you just right. It was a revelation. Nothing would ever compare to him and you hadn’t even fucked yet. Once you had regained some semblance of stability he emerged from his place between your thighs, face slick with your juices, wearing the expression of a cat that got the cream.

“You make such lovely sounds for me, schatzi,” Helmut groaned, rising from his place at your feet and reaching into his pocket. While he fumbled for a condom you took the time to actually remove your panties, lifting one shaky leg at a time before balling them up and tossing them on the ground. You could grab them later. Or not! In all honesty, your ruined undies were the last thing on your mind as your watched Helmut roll the condom onto his proud cock, pumping himself a few times. “Now, are you sure you want this?”

You had never felt more sober in your whole life despite the drinks you’d downed earlier.

“God, yes,”

“Wonderful,”

He caged you into his body once again, lining himself up on your slick folds, and then with a pronounced bite against your collarbone, he was entering you. It wasn’t painful or uncomfortable, you just felt full, like a missing piece of your body had been completed. For the first few thrusts, you were too blissed out to really take note of anything around you, but once you tuned back into the world of the living you realized Helmut was talking. Well, babbling was more like it. He seemed to simply be speaking his stream of consciousness into your ear as he pistoned in and out of you like a madman. There was a jilted rhythm to it, but the abnormality kept you on your toes.

“I won’t be letting you go any time soon, schatzi, and definitely not on some dank freighter like a rat from the gutters. No, you will travel with me. Once I help my friends and slip away from the front lines I can take you anywhere your little heart desires. Paris, Vienna, Australia… Mein Gott, what a sweet cunt,”

Any sane woman, after hearing his sex-drunken musings, would have run. They would have heard the wild ramblings of a madman and left after their little fling was done to never see him again. It was only rational. He didn’t even know your real name. Sane women didn’t run away with strangers claiming to be barons they hooked up with in a seedy club selling stolen Van Goghs in a hub of the criminal underworld.

The only thing was, though, that you weren’t a sane woman.

You were a killer, a child left in the streets to live or die who had scraped themselves together and dragged themselves towards life. So what if the idea of some rich mysterious benefactor with a good dick coming in to save the day sounded fantastic? It was fantastic. Like your own personal version of Pretty Woman. Even if he wasn’t as rich as he claimed to be, being poor and getting dicked down by him was better than being poor and alone.

For just a moment, and with no regrets, you let yourself get lost in the fantasy and just let go.

It was as if Helmut could sense a difference.

“Are you close, little schlampe?” He gasped, letting his thrusts take on a faster staccato rhythm.

You could do little more than moan and nod as he pounded you into the wall. That seemed to be enough for him to get the message, though.

“What a good girl,” he purred. His mouth was so close to your ear, his hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh with each heaving breath he took. As he chased his own climax, he brought a hand between your bodies and rubbed tight, wet circles around your clit. It was already sensitive, your body was only barely recovering from your first orgasm, and yet something about the overstimulation was thrilling, like racing towards an impossible dream. With a shout, you came for the second time, melting into Baron Helmut’s arms as he quickly followed.

The two of you stayed there, slumped against the cool wall and still connected by your dripping sexes, for a few moments, breathing heavy. Surprisingly, you were the first to speak.

“Wow,” you breathed, letting a soft laugh escape your lips.

Helmut returned the sentiment. “You were wonderful,” In a strange moment of intimacy, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, but then he pulled out, tying off the full condom and tossing it to the ground as he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his fly.

“Are you just gonna leave that there?” you made a gesture towards his litter.

“They have janitors,”

A burbling laugh escaped from your lips. “That they do,”

Back in the main room of the party, the crowd had only grown larger as the night progressed. Nobody had seen you, nor had they noticed your cries as they danced and drank and made merry under the neon lights. You were, for all intents and purposes, invisible at Helmut’s side. Within and without. There was something exhilarating about knowing he was the only one that truly saw you in a room packed with hundreds. It was like something out of a twisted fairytale.

“So…” you broached the subject gently while you pulled down your dress to protect your modesty, “Did you mean what you said back there about Paris and Vienna, or…”

“Oh, you heard that?”

You snickered. “It was pretty hard not to with you breathing in my ear,”

“I apologize,” he leaned against the wall beside you, shoulder to shoulder in the darkness, “but yes, I meant what I said. I-”

Suddenly, from down the hall, a booming voice interrupted your moment.

“There you are!”

“Goddamnit, Zemo, I thought we told you to stay low not hire an escort,”

There, at the mouth of the hallway, stood two massive men. They were obviously displeased, and though their faces were obscured by the lights you could tell you weren’t the one they were after.

They called him Zemo… where had you heard that name before?

Helmut stepped away from the wall with a shrug. “At least I didn’t cause a scene by forgetting to put my phone on silent,”

The larger of the two men stayed where he was, while the other walked to meet the Baron in the middle.

“I swear to God, man, you’ve gotten ten times more insufferable since I learned you were rich.

The Baron shrugged. “It comes with the territory,”

“But you don’t have to be such a jackass about it,”

You felt it was a good time to chime in.

“Thank you so much for that, Helmut, but I think I should give you guys some privacy,” you said, straightening out your dress and walking deeper into the hallway. There had to be an exit somewhere…

“Wait!” When you turned, you found Helmut rushing to meet you. The men in the background looked shocked and almost smug. “Save your money. Meet me out at the airstrip tomorrow afternoon if you feel like seeing me again. If not, know that the Power Broker doesn’t let go of assets cheap, and you just slept with a man with a million dollar bounty, so buying your freedom isn’t an option. If you want to go without me, you’ll have to hitch a ride on a cargo ship but not as a stowaway. Working for your keep is the best way to stay under the radar. Nobody can touch you once you’r-”

You cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “I’ll see you at your private jet, Baron,”

He smirked. “So you will,” With as much gusto as a man could muster, he returned to his companions but not before offering one last goodbye. “Farewell, schatzi, until tomorrow,”

As you leaned up against the wall once more, you watched them go with a twinkle in your eye.

“Who was that?”

“None of your business, James,”

“Guys, what the hell did I just step on?”

“I believe that was my used rubber,”

“ZEMO!”

-------

a/n: I hope you enjoyed the filth! I haven’t written for Zemo before, even though I’ve loved him for years, but he’s definitely going into my main rotation now. If you have any ideas, send them my way! I’d love to fill the void, because there just aren’t very many Zemo x reader fics out there. If you enjoyed this, maybe reblog or leave a comment! I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thanks again!

Please do not post my works to any other sites, thanks! <3

[toorusluvr]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ADRENALINE: KAGEYAMA TOBIO.

characters: kageyama tobio x f!reader

cw:  angry sex + unprotected + vaginal penetration + hair pulling/grabbing + slight degradation + missionary + kageyama blowing your back out uh + oral (f! receiving) + c*wgirl position um.

wc: 3.1k

crossposted on my ao3 🤍

The sound of the buzzer surprised you when you snapped out of your thoughts and came back to reality. The match had just ended with Sao Paolo 4 - Ali Roma 3. You watched your boyfriend's team shaking hands with their opponents. The look that was plastered across your boyfriend's face, the infamous Kageyama Tobio, was evident, at least to you, that he was frustrated over their loss.

His face was red, and his body ran hot. Kageyama stepped out of the court and gulped down his mineral water. The plastic bottle was scrunched up by his massive hands before being thrown in the garbage bin near the bench. He sat on the bench while their coach gave them some honest feedback from the match. Kageyama tried to calm himself down, but he just couldn't. It's an important match, and sadly, they lost.

You knew when he's mad, you wouldn't even dare to go and comfort him because he told you before that he dislikes being comforted when he's angry. He's afraid of hurting you with the words he didn't mean to say. What you did was, went straight to your shared apartment and prepared a comforting dinner for him. He must have been starving after running around the court all day.

The door clicked open from the outside, and you immediately woke up from your quick nap. You have fallen asleep on the couch after cooking for Kageyama. His eyes landed on you, who was rubbing your eyes. "You're home", he heard you said with a groggy voice. Kageyama looked at you with an annoyed expression. It was obvious. Somehow you got scared by how angry he looks sometimes.

"Tobio", you breathed out when he threw himself onto you. He pushed your back all the way against the couch. His thighs were residing on either side of your body, caging your body with his muscular built. Kageyama's hand touched your face lovingly before lifting your chin in a forced manner.

"Look at me, baby," he said. You did not dare to make any eye contact with him. Perhaps, you were scared. He would be scared if he were in your shoes too. Kageyama lightly slapped your face, "I said, look at me, slut."

You hesitantly looked at your boyfriend in the eyes. He flashed you a cocky smirk when you finally looked at him in the eyes. Your heart was about to jump out of your chest when you locked eyes with Kageyama. His presence was like a different person.

"I want you all to myself tonight. Understood? I don't care if you're tired or anything. Just take it all like a good fucktoy you've always been, alright? Hm, baby?" he needed to lash out his frustration on someone, and you're his little cocksleeve. You need to oblige him nevertheless.

You mustered your courage to nod your head. At last, you nodded your head slowly. Obliging your boyfriend's request to please him. Your throat felt dry, and it hurt when you know what is about happen. It's not like you disapprove of it, but angry sex with Kageyama will always leave your legs bruising the following day. Has it always been a good time? Yes.

Kageyama's lips hungrily kissed yours. His hands could not stay still to his sides, always needing to touch you on any parts of your precious body. His fingers reaching for the buttons of your pyjamas as he sucked on your sensitive skin. A soft moan escaped your lips when he nibbled on the same spot over and over again.

He threw your pyjamas top aside. Only leaving your upper body naked without a single thread. The cold air made your nipples turned perkier than your boyfriend's doing. What more when Kageyama twirled his fingers around them teasingly. The back of your head hitting the soft cushion of the couch as you tried to breathe normally. Heavy breaths started to fill the silent living room when your boyfriend continued licking and sucking on your sensitive nipples.

Kageyama held you by the waist as he latched his lips on your nipples, taking one of your nipples in his hungry mouth. His warm tongue twirling around your nipple as his free hand fondling your other breast — massaging them with a firm squeeze. Soft whimpers coming from you sounded so fucking beautiful in his ears. Writhing and begging him to give you more and more.

"Tobio," you breathed shakily when he left a trail of wet kisses along your lower body before tugging on the waistband of the bottom of your pyjama. His hands removed your bottom off of your legs quickly. You shut your eyes closed as you felt his hands rubbing on your bare thighs. You could feel every inch of his fingers against your skin.

Kageyama's eyes landed on the wet spot forming on the material of your panties. "Always so needy for me, aren't you?" he clicked his tongue. His fingers rubbing your clothed cunt for more friction. A soft whimper elicited from your mouth as he rubbed your core teasingly. Kageyama got impatient and slid off your drenched underwear and tossed it aside.

You are now naked, body on display for him. His gaze was filled with lust and anger. Kageyama harshly laid you on the couch. His massive hands spreading your legs apart so he could have a better view of your wet cunt. Your pussy glistening with arousal slick, and you looked cute trying to cover yourself.

He kissed your inner thighs before his lips sucking on your skin to leave hickeys. It's like a work of art, and Kageyama has always been proud of the marks he leaves on you. It feels like he owns you as his property. No one else gets to have you except him. He's not obsessive. He just likes to claim what is his. And your pussy? It was never yours. It's his.

You felt his minty breath fanning over your core. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his warm tongue lay on the entrance of your core. The tip of his tongue gliding up and down your drenched pussy. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your orgasm building up. "T-tobio," you whimpered once you felt he got too close to your clit. Your fingers in his soft black hair tugging on it lightly to hold yourself back.

Kageyama chuckled when he watched you throwing your head back. "Fuck, baby. You look so pretty moaning my name like this. Moan, my name louder, baby," he said breathily. The tip of his tongue circling on your clit before sucking on it gently.

You watched Kageyama savouring your taste, his tongue lolling while sucking your pussy as he eyed you from below. It's such a pleasant view. "Oh- god", you let out a loud moan as you felt the tight knot in your lower core crashing. "T-tobio, please. Please make me cum" you pleaded. Your grip on his hair loosened as you tried to grind your pussy against his face. "Please, please, please", you writhed.

Kageyama watched your chest rose up and down, indicating your orgasm was near. He would never let you come on the first try. He moved his face away from your pussy, and he harshly took your chin in his hand. "Turn around for me, slut. I am far from being done with you," he gritted through his teeth. You obeyed his order and turned around to get on all fours for him.

He gave your ass a powerful spank that left a red handprint on your ass cheek. You winced in pain as your body jolted forward due to the powerful impact. Kageyama used two of his fingers to collect your wet juices. The squelch noise made you wanted to hide your face in embarrassment. He collected your wet juices on his fingers before inserting them down your throat. "Suck your juice, baby. Taste how fucking good you are."

You sucked on his slender fingers until they are clean. Kageyama scoffed before he rubbed on your clit in a circular motion. Your body wriggled even though his strong hands kept you to stay still. He got annoyed at how you couldn't stay still for him, and you earned another spank from him. "Can't you fucking stay still for once?" he jeered.

"I can't", you replied while struggling to catch another breath. "Feels too g-good", you whimpered as your hands clutching on the couch.

Kageyama turned your whole body over without even letting you come. You felt empty when he removed his fingers from your aching cunt. "N-no," you murmured under your breath. Not a second after, Kageyama hovered on top of you. He grabbed you by the waist and carried you to your shared bedroom without saying anything.

The door to your bedroom was pushed from outside by Kageyama. He then threw you on the bed. You felt the bed dipped with his weight when he hovered on top of you while taking off the white tee he was wearing. He extended his arms on either side of your body and inched his face closer to yours. His eyes scanning your naked body being displayed underneath him.

You could feel your face turning warmer as adrenaline coursed through your veins. Your eyes trailing your boyfriend's movements in silence. Kageyama then rubbed his palms against the inner of your thighs once again. His fingers collecting your dripping wet juices before licking them clean off of his slender fingers. You shut your eyes closed as your fingers clutching onto the bedsheet.

Kageyama spread your legs wider so he could bury his face in between your legs. He glanced over you from below and saw how you were whimpering quietly made him wanted to give you more than you deserved tonight. The tip of his tongue rolling on your slick folds. He felt your body moved, but he held your thighs wide open to prevent you from moving. Kageyama sucked on your juices, alternately licking your folds and using his fingers to pleasure you.

When you felt his thumb reaching for your clit and started to rub slow circles on it, you let out another sinful moan. Your back arched lewdly against the soft mattress. Your knuckles had turned white from clutching onto the bedsheet. "Tobio," you mumbled quietly. Drools forming on the corner of your lips, and your mouth felt dry. "Please", you begged.

"Please what, baby? Say your words" he made a snarky remark.

"Please fuck me already," you spat out in frustration. You then realised what you said may have sounded differently to Kageyama. You heard he clicked his tongue before he flipped your body over. Your face now buried in the soft mattress below you. Kageyama pulled your legs towards him. He gave your naked ass a harsh slap before pulling your hair. He leaned closer to your ears, "Then beg."

You shut your eyes closed as your breath hitched. "Please, Tobio. I want your cock inside me," you pleaded. Your hair was still pulled by his hand. He let go of your hair. Kageyama placed his hand on your waist. And with a sharp thrust, he slid his cock inside of your pussy. You gasped when you felt the stretch burnt. Kageyama's breath became staggered when he felt your tight walls clamped around his throbbing cock.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath when your pussy swallowed his cock all the way to the shaft. "Your pussy is taking my cock well," he snickered. He gave your cheek another powerful smack before he thrust into you harshly. His hips slammed onto yours. The grips on your waists were hurting you a little. But the pain did not matter at the moment as you wanted to cum on your boyfriend's cock so badly.

You let out a deep moan with your head being buried in the bedsheet. Kageyama pinned your head down as he relentlessly fucking your pussy. He slightly threw his head back when he felt so close to coming inside you. He had to hold himself back from coming too fast. Kageyama grunted softly as he pulled your hair back. He pulled your chin closer to give you open-mouthed kisses, while his hand grabbing your hair. Your tongues twirled around each other as both of you moaned into each other's mouths.

He broke the kiss and pinned your head down on the mattress again—both of his hands grabbing on your waists as his hips slamming onto yours harder than before. You felt the familiar coil forming in your stomach. "Tobio," your pleas were muffled against the bedsheet. Kageyama then brought pulled your hair again and made you faced the headboard while he's rearranging your guts.

Moans and pleas came out of your pretty little mouth. Drools in the corner of your lips as your jaw was left wide open the entire time. You sniffled back your tears, "Please, please, I'm coming, Tobio!"

Kageyama let out a deep groan as he felt your walls clenched around his cock. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix — your orgasm approaching closer as he continued fucking your sloppy pussy. He heard you let out a shriek as he gave the final thrust before your orgasm washed all over you. Your face planted on the mattress as you tried to regain your breath. Kageyama then came right after you — spilling his cum inside of you.

He collapsed beside you. Kageyama brought your body closer to his and gave you kisses on your forehead. There was a comfortable silence in your shared bedroom for a moment. "I know you can do it for me once again. Come on, baby," he said.

You got on top of him and locked eyes with him for a second. Kageyama then bucked his hips for you to slide his cock inside of your dripping pussy. Your mouth slightly parted when his cock stretching your walls once again. He let out a soft groan when your pussy swallowed him as a whole. His hands on your waist, carefully guiding you to ride his cock.

Kageyama eyed your beautiful face — your hair sticking on your forehead because of the sweats. Your pelvis moving on its own even though you were struggling to take his cock. Your boyfriend let out a chuckle when he saw you struggling. "Cute," he murmured under his breath. "A pathetic whore," he slipped out. You then got on your feet while crouching on top of him.

He watched your tits bouncing as you rode his cock. Your hands on his toned chest while riding his cock. When you felt the familiar knot forming in your lower core, you let out another moan as you threw your head back. The pleasure was different tonight. Kageyama removed the strands of hair that fell on your face. He groaned softly when he felt his cock twitched inside of you. Both of you were so near to coming for the second time tonight.

"Mmm, I'm coming" you bit your lower lip. Your pace became quicker while chasing your orgasm eagerly. "H-ahh... Tobio," you moaned your boyfriend's name for the nth times. Kageyama rolled his index and thumb around your perky nipples. You felt another tear dropped on your face while your high approaching faster. Whimpers and soft grunts filling your shared bedroom.

"Come for me, baby," Kageyama let out a deep groan. He threw his head back against the mattress when he felt so close. You nodded eagerly — your finger playing with your clit to stimulate your orgasm faster. Both of your legs were trembling, and when your orgasm crashed, you let out a deep moan before collapsing onto your boyfriend's body.

You felt cum dripping on your thighs. Laying on top of Kageyama, you breathed heavily to gain your composure back again. He caressed your head with so much care. "Do you want to do it again?" you heard him asked. You groaned slightly before facing him.

"What? Didn't I tell you I won't stop even if you are tired?" he raised his eyebrows at you.

Ah, of course, he remembers that. "Fine," he heard you said. Kageyama smirked before he got you off of him.

This time, he fucked you in missionary. Kageyama pulled your body closer to his while his right hand squeezing your throat. With a shaky breath, he glanced over to where his cock was drilling in and out of your sensitive pussy. The clear white string coating his cock and your pussy, eventually making a mess on the clean bedsheet.

Your hips bucked as you were struggling to keep your eyes open to look at your ethereal boyfriend. "Fuck, Tobio. It-it's too much," you mewled.

Kageyama could feel the strong grips from you. His hips slamming onto yours harder as he felt so close to coming once again tonight. The stretchy feels of your walls kept drawing him in — clouding his mind from any rational thoughts. He just wanted to fill your cunt full with his seeds.

The soft sound of your cries echoed together with the sound of his balls smacking your ass in your silent bedroom. You clawed on his toned biceps as you rolled your eyes back. "Tobio, right there!" you choked.

Your boyfriend let out a pleased hum. His left hand playing with your sensitive nipples before latching his lips on it. He gently nipped on your nipples and sucking on them with soft grunts coming out of his mouth.

Your chest rose heavier, and your moans became broken when you felt your climax approaching. "Please, Tobio," you cried.

Kageyama picked up his pace before folding your legs in half. His cock buried deeper in your pussy — the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again. He heard you mumbled incoherently while begging to come with his permission.

He thrust harder into you when you let out a sudden scream. "Fuck," you sniffled. Your mind was clouded with lust as you tried to recall what happened after coming down from your high.

Kageyama let out a deep groan when he painted your insides again. His cum trickling down your thighs before he pulled out his cock. "Hm, that was amazing," he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

You smiled when Kageyama peppered your face with soft kisses. "No, I'm not done yet," you heard him said.

How many times did you come tonight? You have lost count. The next thing you knew was, you had to get a day off from work the next day. You were limping for the entire day. Kageyama still took care of you, though.

[moonstrider9904]

Moon Pie

Chapter 13 of Moonlight

{series masterlist} | {next chapter} {previous chapter}

{crossposted to AO3}

Chapter summary: Clair and Crosshair have their first tastes of full freedom, and Clair finally reveals to Crosshair the greenhouse she'd planned on gifting to him. Meanwhile, the bakery continues to take shape.

Warnings/tags: fluff and romance. Some soft smut (18+ minors dni). Vaginal sex, outdoor sex, lots of making out. Wholesome interactions with all of the batch.

Word count: 4.6k

Playlist: evensong

Neither one of them had known more peaceful days. Even before the unfortunate call to Coruscant, it wasn’t always in which Clair and Crosshair could have a whole day off at the same time; with the versatility of the hunting schedules and the development of the bakery, usually one of them was working while the other one enjoyed some time. It was the very reason why that morning, with a glow fairly similar to the one when Crosshair had had to ship out to Coruscant for that final trial with the Republic, was one of the best yet. They’d have the whole day for each other, and it hadn’t happened in a while. His time on Coruscant had been more than either of them wanted, but they both knew they could be grateful and hopeful for the days to come.

They were both finally free, they could finally get back to what they’d been planning.

Clair figured once the bakery was settled and her schedule could be more regular, days like that one would be more frequent. She and Crosshair would be in more control of whatever happened, and that thought pleased her so much it brought a large grin to her angelic face.

Just when Crosshair thought nothing could light up the very planet more than the sun, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and everything was perfect: the two of them sitting on the little bench outside their cottage, with a full view of the garden and the sounds of nature surrounding them. The day before, when Crosshair had returned with his brothers and Scarlett, so much had been going on that he hadn’t been able to get a moment alone with Clair until night had fallen, after which they were both so tired they slept like rocks. He was just so happy to finally be with her, and seeing the little grin on her face made him melt.

“What’s got you so happy, Dumpling?” He asked her.

“Oh, just thinking,” she answered happily.

“About?”

“How good progress is going with the bakery,” she said. “How bright things look for us both. How happy I am.”

Crosshair smiled at her and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “What else do you need for the bakery, besides the obvious? I noticed you didn’t have a name for it yet.”

“Actually, I do have a name in mind,” Clair said with a tiny grin. “Not that Tech and Wrecker’s options for a bakery’s name aren’t fine or anything.”

“Ah yes, the Assembled Dough bakery,” Crosshair shook his head and nearly facepalmed.

Her laughter filled the garden musically while he admired her in silence until she quieted down, only leaving that of the birds and the sway of the trees in the background before Crosshair looked at her again.

“Well, what is it?”

The tiny grin showed up again. Whatever it was, Crosshair knew she wanted his full approval of it, and she suspected she’d have it.

“Moon Pie.”

His lips instantly curled up into a smirk for him to chuckle at the name.

“What?” Clair laughed. “I’d thought about naming it Berry Pie, but that’s your name. Moon Pie’s just a bit deeper.”

“How?”

“Well, the Pie is in your honor.”

“And the Moon?”

“Mora’s. It’s what she calls me, and I like it. And none of this would be happening without her.”

Crosshair chuckled again. “Seriously, how do you ever come up with the cheesiest nicknames?”

“You’re the one who came up with Dumpling first!”

“Yes, and mine was a means to give you some affection in my own shitty-prick way,” he chuckled. “Yours was all lovey-dovey and sweet.”

“It made you fall in love with me, Berry Pie” Clair smiled at him.

“Oh, darlin’,” he gently kissed her lips. “A lot of things made me fall in love with you. But seriously, Hunny? Munchkin?”

“Munchkin is Mora’s nickname for Hunter, I had nothing to do with that one,” Clair laughed. “Even though I love it far more than Hunny.”

“Wait until Scarlett gets a load of those pet names,” Crosshair chuckled.

A bit of silence went by before he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Moon Pie… I love it,” he said before kissing her again.

“I’m glad you do,” she said. To the untrained eye, all of Clair’s signs would have ended there, but Crosshair’s enhanced eyesight allowed him to see the way in which her eyes moved differently. Suspicious, he raised an eyebrow at her only for her to continue averting her gaze.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he said.

“Not so much hiding,” Clair shrugged. “I’m just… trying to find the right time to show it to you.”

Crosshair’s suspicion didn’t fade, and Clair could only laugh softly in response. She stood up and took Crosshair’s hand, leading him to the back of the cottage and past the gates; she abruptly stopped and looked at him again with a mischievous look on her face.

“You’re going to have to cover your eyes,” she giggled.

“Fine,” Crosshair grumbled. He put one hand over his eyes and let Clair take the other while she continued leading him out into the forest, until they finally stopped and he felt her let go of his hand.

“Okay,” he heard her speaking. “Open your eyes.”

Crosshair did as she said, his eyes immediately softening as he lay them upon the wood and glass structure in front of him. The morning glow reflected on the glass and he couldn’t make out any details from the inside except for a bit of green in the ground, though he figured that could also be from the forest all around. Nevertheless, it was obvious what it was about, and a million thoughts and feelings swarmed around Crosshair that all he could do was stand still and speechless.

Clair knew her man all too well. She gave him a bit of time to take in what was happening, all the while with a massive grin on her face. She’d already gotten enough good looks at the greenhouse, and now all she could watch was him. Slowly, she took his hand when she deemed fit, and she began to lead him into the greenhouse. In his observative nature, Crosshair just kept staring at the glass structure. How long had it taken her to build it and how in the world did she pull it off?

“Come in,” Clair beckoned when Crosshair was just underneath the door frame.

The warm air hit his skin and contrasted with the cool, morning air from the outside. The scent was earthy, fresh even in the humid air of that greenhouse. Inside, the greenhouse seemed much larger than on the outside, and Crosshair was baffled at how she could even fit a bench in there. A path was clearly lined with cobblestone, and the rest of the ground was made of fertile soil, some patches of which already had baby plants sprouting. Some walls and shelves were lined with flower pots and large boxes also filled with dirt, and wherever they were, they were all labeled in Clair’s neat handwriting. Crosshair recognized the names of a few flowers, but the crops would mainly consist of fruits and vegetables. He also noticed that some of his favorites occupied the best spots in the greenhouse.

Clair stood in the middle of the greenhouse where the cobblestone paths crossed. Even in the scenery of possibly the greatest gift anyone had ever made for him, besides her very existence, Clair stood out with her charming smile, her warmth.

“How did you do this?” Disbelief still flooded his voice.

Clair laughed softly. “I didn’t do it alone.”

“Mora?”

“And Iroh,” she answered. “And a few villagers.”

Crosshair felt like he could facepalm, though not of annoyance. He didn’t want to feel indebted to anyone, much less, like he was welcomed or even loved by the villagers. That was a thought he feared rather than despised, in his own, odd, sniper way, his soldier mind threatening to make him feel he didn’t deserve any of it. As though Clair could read his mind, and Crosshair felt by then she probably could, she walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his torso, looking up at him with big, soft eyes.

“It really wasn’t a problem, they were all happy to help,” Clair tried to persuade him.

Crosshair attempted a smile at her, but it came out weirder, just as he expected. He only felt her arms around him tighten, finally bringing his gaze back to her.

“Do you like it?” She asked, for a moment genuinely afraid he wouldn’t.

And then, every fiber in Crosshair’s body softened. “Of course I do.” He hugged her back and kissed the top of her head. “I love it, Clair. I just can’t believe you went through all this for me.”

“What are you talking about? I’d go through anything for you.”

Crosshair felt like his heart would melt.

“Besides, I had a blast,” she mumbled into his chest. “And I baked a lot of muffins for everyone who helped, so that was fun too.”

Crosshair chuckled, the sound choked as if his voice would break. “Clair…”

“You always do nice things for me, Crosshair,” she answered. “I wanted to do something nice for you in our own home. It really wasn’t a problem.”

He hugged her tighter and got down on his knees to rest his head on her chest. “Our home…”

“Our home,” Clair reciprocated with a kiss to his forehead.

Crosshair stood back up and carried her alongside him. With her feet swept off the ground, he lovingly kissed her and repeatedly declared his love for her in the middle of his greenhouse.

He could already see himself sneaking in there in the mornings to check on the plants, maybe sometimes before Clair would even wake up. He’d pick up something fresh from the crops that they could add to their breakfast, maybe some herbs for Clair to brew tea with her expert hands while he cooked something, and then they’d both go about their day. Back in the battlefield, he’d feel doomed if he dared to think something of the sort. And now, there was Clair in front of him, in a greenhouse she’d helped build as a symbol of their love finally finding a home where they could stay, grow old together so that one day the two of them, maybe accompanied by Wrecker, could go shake their fists at younger generations in the village.

A sole tear dropped from Crosshair’s eye, and while it shocked Clair at first, she then echoed him by dripping strings of happy tears as well. She dried her eyes as Crosshair carefully set her back on the ground, his fingers still locked with hers as he gazed into her eyes.

“How can I ever thank you?” He whispered.

“Crosshair, there’s nothing to thank.”

“Clair, you never saw me on the battlefield,” he said. “I was alone all the time. No target ever escaped my aim. I was a silent danger, and now… now you’ve given me something I never would have dared to wish for.”

Clair squeezed his hands. “It took two people to build what we have now, Crosshair.” Gently, Clair cupped his cheek and he leaned into the warmth of her palm.

“And if I were to tell you everything you’ve done for me, we’d never get out of this greenhouse,” Clair added.

Crosshair chuckled softly and he kissed the ball of her hand. “Still. Thank you.”

She smiled up at him. “Always.”

After a soft kiss, the two made their way out of the greenhouse and back into the fresh air of the forest. The chirping of the birds added a magical effect to the greenhouse, standing there peacefully in the edge of the forest. Hand in hand, Clair and Crosshair walked back to the outlines of their fence and through the grass and flower fields surrounding their cottage, and all the while, Crosshair could barely take his eyes off of her.

In the middle of the field surrounded by lavender and a few other flowers, walking on the soft grass and illuminated by the still rising sun not far from their cottage, Crosshair suddenly came to a stop. With a grin, Clair gently tugged on his wrist, but he wouldn’t move. All he did was continue to look at her with a dreamy smile planted on his lips.

Clair chuckled. “What is it, Cross?”

He pulled her closer to him and firmly placed his hands on her waist. He leaned down to kiss her with love, but it didn’t take long for Clair to pick up on the lust that glazed his kissing. Crosshair pressed his body onto hers, wrapping his arms tightly around her, and in a swift movement, he brought them both to the ground. Clair yelped and giggled, always dazed by his strength, and while he kept kissing her, she quickly caught on to how hard he felt between his legs.

She lay on the grass, her hair fanned out on the green between the flowers, with Crosshair on top of her shielding her from the sun. His kisses grew stronger, his hands ran all over her body, and he pressed so much to her body as if he wanted to mold himself into her. Clair gladly kissed him back, but with a quick whimper she stopped him and looked at him, pleasantly surprised at the love and lust in his eyes.

“Here?” She panted. “Now?”

Crosshair smirked. “Yes, here and now.” He leaned into her and resumed kissing her, his voice smooth like a purr. “Let me love you.”

When his kissing trailed down her neck, Clair sunk back into the bed of grass and let Crosshair do what he wanted with her. He always wanted to mark her whole body, emphasize that she was his, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was kiss her lips. Unlike other times, he simply couldn’t stop himself from kissing those full, warm, soft lips.

He felt her fingertips brushing the silver curls on the back of his head, and with skilled hands, his own fingers wrapped around the edge of her skirt and pulled it up. He softly pulled down her panties and slid them off her legs, casting them aside, brushing his fingers over her pussy that was already wet for him. Crosshair never stopped kissing her; in his trance, he managed to remove his shirt and pull down his trousers, brushing his shaft over her folds as he moaned softly.

Clair looked at him. His body seemed to glow in the sunlight, and despite the obvious craving as he continued rubbing his cock on her clit, his voice whenever he moaned was softer than ever. So were his eyes, as Clair came to notice fairly quickly as well. In all the time they’d spent together, Crosshair had never been as loving as at that moment, and that was surely saying something.

The cool air of the morning managed to blow past his member, and it contrasted with the wet slick on his skin so much that he ached for the warmth he could find inside of her. Carefully, Crosshair slid himself inside of Clair, reveling in the moan that dripped from her lips with every inch of his length that stretched her out. Slowly he began to thrust in and out of her, his hands on the sides of her head as his fingers dug into her hair. The ground gave him all the leverage that he needed; the scent of all the flowers around them and the sunlight hitting his bare back took Crosshair to a state of bliss that he almost felt hypnotized.

Clair, sensitive from the rubbing earlier, wrapped her arms and legs around Crosshair’s body. She’d never felt him so fully inside her, and rather than him constantly pulling in and out of her, it seemed like he was just grinding inside her, carefully hitting all of her most sensitive spots. Tension bubbled in every corner of her skin; she knew the pleasure would be immense. With his warmth and that of the sun, it wouldn’t take her long to tumble into ecstasy, and the feeling of his lips constantly kissing hers like a meal made her realize this was probably what heaven itself felt like.

Our home... The words echoed simultaneously in their minds, further proving that they were one and the same. They’d be with each other their whole lives, in peace and away from any torment that lurked above them in the past, facing new things in the upbringing of that which they were still building. What better way was there to celebrate?

Crosshair was so lost in his feelings that he didn’t even realize when he began saying, and repeating, every form of declaration of love that he knew. He started in basic, words which Clair could understand fully as they pranced into her ear, until she heard him speaking in fluent Mando’a. The sound was so delicate, so beautiful, and though she didn’t explicitly know the words, Clair could feel them sinking into her skin as he whispered them into her lips.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum…”

I will know you forever...

He grinded harder into her and held her tighter as if being pushed over the edge by the very power of the words he was speaking, and soon, Clair’s moaning filled his ear like music. A raw, passionate grunt escaped him as he clenched the grass, and Clair watched as every one of his muscles contracted with his strength as he moved harder and faster between her legs. Crosshair’s forehead rested on hers, their eyes gazing into each other, only closing once they resumed their blissful kiss while they moaned in unison. Clair tightened all around him, all but also claiming him as hers.

While her moaning harmonized with the sounds of nature, Crosshair continued chanting his love for her until with a final grunt, he released into her and filled her up in the way they both loved by now. Clair mewled tenderly, always loving the sensation of his warm cum inside her like it were the first, the sight and sound of her so adorable that Crosshair was compelled to kiss all over her beautiful face and simply take care of the woman he loved.

They both remained there, him lying tired on top of her, occasionally laughing softly together. They both felt like they could fall asleep under the sun, but once Crosshair decided he didn’t want his back to burn up, he got up and carefully helped Clair up with him. It was when he noticed the leaves and blades of grass sticking around on her hair that his laughter brought her out of her trance too, to which she blushed and started weaving a few of them out of her hair.

“You do look adorable like that,” Crosshair slurred.

“How?”

“All messed up because of me,” he said seductively. Both of them standing, he picked up his shirt and her panties from the ground, and with his free hand he began leading her back to the cottage. He didn’t bother put his shirt back on; he actually found he rather liked the sun on his back and chest. As for Clair, so long as her dress’s skirt covered her, it wasn’t like she’d need her panties from there to the inside of the cottage.

“Want to do it again inside?” Crosshair smirked at her.

Clair slapped his chest playfully, though blushing at how amazing his body felt. She reciprocated his suggestiveness and looked up at him with a sly grin.

“You’re just dying to get this dress off of me, aren’t you?” She giggled.

Crosshair growled and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder and carrying her all the way back to the cottage.

“You really can read my mind, darlin’.”

“It’s not that hard to do,” she answered. “You have that look on your face and you’re still hard.”

Swiftly, Crosshair switched to carrying her bridal style so he could look her in the eyes with a smug grin.

“Keep playing like that with me, and I’ll have to go hard on you, Princess,” he purred at her.

“What’s the matter, Prince? Scared you’ll break me in half?”

Crosshair growled again and hurried into the cottage with her still in his arms, well prepared to turn Clair into a flustered, mewling little mess under him.

*

After that perfect morning, Clair and Crosshair headed into the village to be greeted by the rest of the batch already working a bit on the bakery. Wrecker moved some things around, Tech kept track of all the expenses and his own to-do list to finally get it running fully as well as a registry of some pre-placed orders from the villagers. Hunter had gone off somewhere, still busy with finishing up his own cottage in the middle of the woods. Meanwhile, Crosshair told Wrecker how the bakery would be arranged.

Clair and Scarlett watched from behind the counter as their boys worked. Though they’d known each other for only over than a day, they could both feel comfortable around each other and talk as if they’d known one another for ages. Clair watched as Scarlett took in the scenery and noticed the subtle smile on her face, and a part of her was still awed at how pretty her red curly hair was.

“How are you liking it here?” Clair asked her.

“Well, I’ve got Hunter, I’ve got my bestie here, and it’s so quiet. Trust me, I love it here.”

“You don’t miss the big city?”

“I mean, I’m a city girl and all,” Scarlett answered. “But when Hunter came to me that day and told me to come with him, I couldn’t resist. I’ve always known I wanted to spend all my days with him.”

“That’s so romantic!” Clair sighed. Before that, she hadn’t really thought of Hunter being one for romance, but she had to admit that the image of Hunter going to Scarlett on Coruscant and telling her to drop everything and live with him made her swoon.

“Well, that’s Hunter,” Scarlett blushed, mischievously leaning closer to Clair. “And last night? Hoo-hah!”

Clair hummed. “Girl, I’ve been there with Crosshair, I know what you mean.”

“What about me?” Crosshair said.

“Nothing, Berry Pie,” Clair winked at him.

“Hey, Scarlett,” Wrecker cut into the conversation and positioned himself next to Crosshair, wrapping an arm around his youngest brother’s shoulders. “Now that you’re part of our family too, it’s our duty as brothers to let you know of Hunter’s embarrassing moments and qualities.”

“You guys didn’t do that with me when I started dating Crosshair,” Clair said.

“That’s because Crosshair’s bad qualities speak for themselves,” Wrecker said.

“Thanks,” Crosshair slurred.

Scarlett chuckled. “I appreciate the gesture, Wrecker, but Hunter happens to be quite perfect. There’s nothing bad about him.”

“Oh yeah? How about the fact that he’s the only one not grinding here at the bakery?” Wrecker questioned.

“You’re going to choke on those words, big guy,” Hunter’s voice filled the bakery all of a sudden, making Scarlett light up like the sun.

They all saw Hunter entering while holding a large wooden item, which seemed like a sign, although its contents were still hidden from the rest’s eyes. Scarlett pranced over to him and greeted him with a kiss, which made Crosshair’s and Wrecker’s brotherly instincts surface as they both pretended to gag.

“I’m so glad to finally see you again,” Hunter told Scarlett.

“We’re glad to see you too, Hunny,” Wrecker teased.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Hunter rolled his eyes. “And don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, Munchkin,” Crosshair shot his classic smug bastard grin at Hunter.

While Scarlett giggled at both nicknames, Hunter directed Clair a control your man look.

Clair shrugged. “Mora’s the closest thing I have to a mother, which makes Crosshair the closest thing she has to a son in law… I’d say he has every right to use the nickname.”

Hunter rolled his eyes one more time only for a chuckle to overtake him. He then walked up to Clair and held the sign up, its contents still invisible to her.

“Anyways, despite your boyfriend being the usual jerk, I made something for you,” Hunter told her.

“He’s my jerk. Now what have you got for me?”

With a kind smile, Hunter finally flipped the sign and it made Clair’s heart skip a beat. Neatly carved into it were the words Moon Pie Bakery, and it had a few swirl-like designs along the edges highlighted with light purple paint. Down in the middle, Hunter had carved a crescent moon and above it was one of Clair’s signature muffins.

“Hunter…” Clair sighed. “This is beautiful, how long did it take you?”

“I woke up early to get it done, it was nothing,” Hunter answered.

“Thanks so much,” Clair hugged him tightly.

“Wait, you only just told me about the name this morning,” Crosshair said with only a sliver of jealousy in his smooth voice.

“Oh, I told Scarlett last night,” Clair replied.

“I told Hunter two seconds after that,” Scarlett added.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Crosshair said.

Clair looked at Hunter again. “This really is lovely, thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Hunter gently patted her shoulder. “Just tell me where to put it, alright?”

“I’m thinking dangling down the center of the main doorway, how would that look?” Clair said.

“That would be most according to the place’s design and it will catch the attention of the highest number of people walking by,” Tech entered the room with his signature datapad in hand. “I am very pleased to say that with our current rate, this bakery could be fully running in a week. Plus, since you gave out muffins to the villagers, everyone’s in love with your baking. They want more, so much that some have already pre-ordered a few things.”

“Tech, that’s amazing!” Clair said, touched by the efforts they were all making. “Guys… I really don’t know how to thank you enough.”

Crosshair walked up to her and pecked the top of her head before also looking at the rest of the family. “I could say the same. You really didn’t have to get that into this.”

“Well, we wanted to,” Tech replied.

“I’m earning my free muffins,” Wrecker said confidently, looking at Clair, only for her to shake her head at him. He then pouted, but shrugged it off.

“I mean it,” Clair said. “Thank you guys.”

Scarlett went to hug Clair too, which only made Wrecker call for a full-on group hug with all of them before they each returned to what they were all doing.

A part of Clair still couldn’t believe how lucky she was, seeing the way she’d fulfill her dream a second time, this time for real and in company of those she loved. Crosshair left from behind the counter and made his way to help Wrecker out again, all while Clair couldn’t stop staring at him.

It seemed everything was going nothing short of perfectly with the bakery, her home. Looking at Crosshair, she realized there was only one thing left for her to achieve everything she wanted in order to begin with the rest of her life.

Of course, time would tell when that would happen.

[maybege]

Safe And Warm - Part 2

Summary: The journey to get Thalassa to Coruscant continues and Paz and you get closer. (Anastasia AU)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.4k | Rating: T

Warnings: once again Disney-level fluff, some tense moments but nothing really dangerous, Mandalorians do not wear helmets in this AU

Here we go! The second and final part to this little AU. Thank you everyone who has commented on and reblogged the first part, I was so happy you liked it. This part also coincides with @agirllovespancakes ‘s 7 Days No Smut Challenge which I highly recommend you check out as there are so many wonderful contributions. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy it!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

The next day, you mostly spent in the room that Thalassa and Din had slept in.

It was amusing, the dark circles under Din’s eyes and the way his brows were in a constant frown.

“You owe me,” he hissed as soon as Paz stepped over the threshold, “Princess here wouldn’t shut up for even one second. It’s a wonder she survived that long on that muddy planet we found her on. I would’ve strangled her years ago.”

Paz only chuckled.

That night, it was felt almost like a routine. None of the passengers tried to talk to you this time around, the dark look on Paz’s face proving enough to keep them away.

The curtain was pulled closed and he had his back turned to you as you got changed. He could hear the shuffling behind him and once you had settled down, he got undressed as quickly as he could.

When he laid down, he felt your arm brush against his. As he turned towards you, his hand found its way to your waist on its own and you smiled, shuffling closer.

“Here we could –“ he put the blaster behind your back.

The metal scraped against the wall and when he noticed that there was not enough space he gently pulled you towards him until you were flush against his chest.

“Is that all right?” he asked hesitantly, his chin on top of your head. You nodded against him, your nose dragging along his throat and goosebumps erupted all over his skin. You were so close …

“Will you tell me why you’re doing this?” you asked him suddenly, “No one would ever spend more than one day with Thalassa out of the goodness of their heart, much less smuggle her into the Core Worlds.”

“Her family will pay a good prize to those that bring her back,” he admitted, almost scared of what your reaction would be. He wanted to add that he was happy to do it now that he got to know you. That he was happy to be with you, here at this moment, and that he would happily abstain from the money if it meant he could just stay here with you.

“I can imagine,” you whispered against him, “All she ever could talk about growing up was how much money her family had – sometimes I wonder if that is the only reason my uncle ever kept her. Apart from the undying love my aunt had for her, of course.”

How anyone could love Thalassa was a mystery to him to Paz did not say anything. Instead, he just held you close.

“I’m flattered you thought that I was her,” you murmured a few moments later, so quiet he could barely hear it, “I – no one ever thought I was more than a farmer’s daughter before.”

“You looked – you were radiant,” Paz replied, “Areradiant, I think. Doesn’t matter if you’re a princess or not, I think – I think you’re beautiful.”

He felt the heat of your cheeks against his chest and his heart warmed. “Thank you, Paz,” you whispered as the light outside shut down, “Thank you for taking me with you.”

And in the darkness, as he remembered that he would have to say goodbye to you on Coruscant, his heart hurt.

*

The days on the ship were absolute perfection.

Or as close to perfection as they could be.

You spend the days either in the common rooms or in the small room that Din and Thalassa shared. Paz made it a habit to clean his blaster every day, just to have something to spend the time on. Din did it as well and there were more than a few moments where Paz contemplated taking the weapon away from Din to prevent him from hurting the constantly chattering princess.

But most days it was not too bad. There were ways you were able to entertain yourself – either by watching a longer holovid on one of the datapads or playing cards. Thalassa had expressed interest in watching one of the loth cat races but Din and Paz had steadfastly refused to take her there on the grounds that if a bounty hunter was anywhere on this ship, he was sure to be at the loth cat races.

And in part that was true and Paz was convinced that Din said it in an attempt to keep her safe. But Paz also had another reason: He did not want to leave you.

Because as the days and nights wore on, he noticed that whenever you were in the same room (which meant always) you would drift towards him or vice versa. No matter if you started out sitting next to Din or Thalassa in the morning, you always ended up right next to him, often talking quietly to each other in a corner of the room.

He had gotten used to your figure next to him, having pulled your knees against your chest as you let him explain to you the different mechanisms of the blaster he was cleaning.

“You’re good at that,” you had said once, smiling at him, “Explaining stuff.”

“Well, I am a teacher,” he had revealed with a teasing smile, “Back at home, I mean. I teach our foundlings about the world and everything they need to know to survive in it.”

You had nodded, resting your chin on your knees and your eyes had been so soft he had wanted nothing more than to kiss you. “It fits,” had been your response, “Paz Vizsla, the teacher.”

Other times you would volunteer to accompany him to the cantina, getting some food for the four of you so Thalassa did not need to leave the room. (“Less exposure, fewer chances for her to be recognized,” Din had shrugged and Paz had agreed.) And with you walking next to him, both of you talking about everything and nothing, Paz only barely registered the jealous looks of other passengers, clearly directed at him.

But he could not care, not when you were so happy to choose the meal of the day, trying out different delicacies from all over the galaxy – stuff you had heard of as children or that was so strange to you, you could barely imagine its taste, all of it landed on your plates.

When the night neared, you would sometimes challenge him to a game of dice which you hopelessly lost every single time but Paz could only smile at you, trying to show you the right way to throw the galactic dice, his broad hands holding yours and his heart skipped a beat every time you asked him to show you again.

Yes, the more time passed, the more Paz allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to spend his life with you.

*

With the ship having safely arrived on Naboo, the next leg of the journey was pretty easy. You needed to get on the train to Theed to catch the next ship that would take you to Coruscant.

“I am sure you’ll like it, Princess,” Din huffed, carrying his bag and hers, “The next room will be much more to your tastes.”

“I can only hope so,” Thalassa replied coolly, shielding her face from the sun, “Thus far the trip has been rather underwhelming.”

Paz chuckled, grinning when he caught you rolling your eyes. To be fair, Paz was pretty sure that everyone would be happy about the better accommodations. In comparison to the ship they had just left, it was almost luxurious. They would have a bedroom big enough to accommodate all of them with an ensuite bathroom and room service available. He could not wait until he had the chance to take a good long shower and get cleaned up.

Not one to waste credits where it was unnecessary, Din bribed the train personnel to let you stay in the luggage cabin much to Thalassa’s dismay. But as Paz helped you up, his hands on your waist, he noticed how giddy you were. You were grinning from ear to ear and he felt his own lips tug up in a smile. One thing he lamented about the better accommodations was that he would not have you next to him every night.

Sitting down on the floor, he watched as your skirts flared up with the wind as the train gained speed.

“I can’t believe we’re this close already,” you said, gazing out at the glittering sea under Naboo’s sun, “It feels like yesterday where you picked us up.”

“I am happy we did,” Paz replied quietly, feeling how your pinkie finger brushed against his thumb and turning his hand so his palm was open to you. His heartbeat quickened, hoping that you got the hint and took his hand but he also did not want to force you.

Your smile warmed his heart while the sunlight warmed his skin. He felt your fingers brush over his palm, moving to interlock your fingers when –

“You have never been to a gala, have you?” Thalassa asked you suddenly, “My family always threw the biggest feasts when I was younger, I can’t imagine it will be any different now. Oh, wait until you see the dresses and the food! It is more than your village could ever imagine.”

“You have seen the dances I have been to,” you reminded her with a grin, “None of them could be called galas at any point.”

“That is true, you have never danced with a partner before have you?”

“I – well I did not need to,” you stuttered, pulling your hand from his and he grumbled internally, “Will I need to know how to do that?”

Thalassa scoffed, “Of course you will, sweetie,” she turned to Din, “can’t you teach her? Or are you two going to embarrass me as well? Oh stars, here I am, returning after years of separation and the group I am with can’t even dance properly.”

Paz rolled his eyes, not saying anything as he rolled up his sleeves. His suit jacket was somewhere behind him on one of the crates, weighted down by a bag on top of it.

“C’mon,” Din said with a heavy sigh, “If I can learn to do it, you can too.”

You looked a little apprehensive at first, standing up to stand across the dark-haired man who held out his hands for you. Happy that she had got her way, Thalassa started to play a common tune on her datapad, something that even Paz recognized from his home.

But when Din started to move, trying to lead you across the wagon, it became clear that it would not work out at all. It was more stumbling than dancing, really, and Paz cringed when he saw how unintentionally harsh Din was grabbing your hands. No wonder you looked uncomfortable, turning your head to face him.

Paz took that as his sign, standing up and straightening the wrinkles in his pants. His heart was pounding in his chest as he approached you. Funnily enough, both you and Din looked relieved.

“Let me,” he announced, grinning as Thalassa kept playing the tune on her datapad.

“I don’t think I will learn it, Paz,” you admitted shyly, avoiding his gaze, “Maybe I am too clumsy …”

“If I can learn to do it, you can learn to do it,” he repeated Din’s motto and gently grasped your hand, pulling it to his mouth for a light kiss.

“M’lady,” he offered, bowing his head formally, “May I ask for this dance?”

“Why of course,” you answered in an equally exaggerated voice, sounding much happier than you had before.

With the music in the background, he pulled you to his chest and started to lead you through the empty wagon ins low steps. As you grew surer, he got faster and soon you laughed with him, fitting so perfectly against him. Stars, he did not remember the last time he had had this much fun.

The melody got slower and so did the steps but he did not let go of you. Instead, he kept you even closer, feeling your heartbeat against his.

“You are a good dancer,” you said with a smile.

He twirled you around with a grin, watching as your skirt flared.

“You are a good dancer too,” he murmured, his forehead falling against yours. Your breath audibly hitched in your throat and it felt like you were alone in the wagon, “Maybe we could dance at the gala if you want.”

“I’d like that,” you whispered back, “I always feel comfortable with you, safe and – safe and warm.”

He opened his mouth. He wanted to tell you how he would keep you safe if he could. How he would make sure to always be by your side if that was what you wanted. How he wanted you to continue to travel with him and not leave him on Coruscant. His hand on your back wandered up to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “I –“

“Kriffing Imps,” Din cursed, “Get back, get back, we need to hide.”

Immediately Paz stepped away from you, pushing you behind him with his arm in front of you.

“Get the bags,” Din hissed, already unlocking the safety of his blaster.

Thalassa was surprisingly quiet, her eyes wide as she pulled the bags from the crates with as little fuss as possible. She handed one to you as Paz grabbed his blaster, switching off the safety.

The one disadvantage they had with being in the luggage cart was that they were the last on the train. There was no way they could escape the imminent arrival of the guards and it made him sick to his stomach, especially when he was highly aware of you behind him.

“They will discover us,” you whispered, clearly scared. He saw them coming closer, slowly checking every wagon.

Din looked outside. “We need to get out of here before we cross the water, we won’t survive the waves.”

That was when they must have noticed you. Shots rang through the air and Thalassa ducked, screaming in fear as the carte behind her took a hit. Paz cursed, rushing you behind the crates as he and Din tried to return the fire. But with the slim doorway and the crates in the way it was difficult to keep cover and do any significant damage.

With a kick to one of the doors, Din managed to create a new exit, the ground only a blur as the train rushed towards a bridge across the sea. But as the Imps got closer, so did the water and soon it was clear that the meadows would be your only escape.

Paz was sitting behind the crate next to you, leaning forward to shoot. He heard a scream but even if he had managed to hit someone, there were still too many to cover the time until they would arrive in Theed.

“We will need to jump,” Din shouted.

Thalassa squeaked in shock, “We can’t! The train is moving,” another shot rang, “And they are shooting at us!”

You were sitting right next to him, eerily quiet, your hands trembling. He could see how scared you were and the thought of something happening to you made him sick to his stomach. No, as the Imps came closer, he knew he could not bear to see you hurt. His gaze met Din’s and he nodded, the plan clear.

“You jump while I cover you,” Paz announced.

You looked up at him in shock, your lips trembling as you shook your head, “Paz please, I – I am scared.”

He grabbed your hand hastily, pulling it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “I promise it will be all right, just trust me. I will be right behind you, you just need to jump for me, can you do that, love?”

You nodded frantically and with a push of his hands, you stumbled over to where Din was waiting at the exit. The wind was rushing and got sick when he saw how close the sea was.

“Now!” Din shouted, pushing Thalassa away with a scream, you followed. As second later Din followed.

Paz did his best to shoot a few Imps, kicking out the bags into the air. When they reached the doorway, he knew it was time to leave. In his haste, he knocked his shoulder against the doorframe, shouting in pain as he threw himself through the opening just before the train crossed onto the water.

The landing was harsh but he did his best to roll it out, groaning as his shoulder throbbed with pain. He could hear a few shots, the Imps attempting to hurt him even after his escape but they failed. Thank the stars they did because he did not have it in himself to avoid any bullets now.

He grunted, his head resting against the grass as he held his shoulder, trying to get the pain to stop.

“Paz!” a voice shouted and footsteps came rapidly closer, “Paz, Paz are you all right?”

It was you.

You bowed over him immediately, your face blocking out the sun. Gentle hands framed his face and he smiled tiredly as he blinked against the light. Stars, you were so pretty he did not even care about his shoulder.

“How are you?” you asked quietly, your brows furrowed in worry, “You – it looked pretty bad.”

His hand closed around yours on his face, pulling it to his lips again. “I’m feeling better now that I am seeing you,” he mumbled against your palm, “Are you all right?”

“I am perfect,” you smiled, running your fingertip across the bridge of his nose, “So – so what do we do now?”

“Where’s Din?”

“Oh, he is taking care of Thalassa, she had a fright and he told me to make sure you are okay.”

“If I tell you I am not, can we stay here for a little longer? Just the two of us.”

“You would want that?” you murmured with a chuckle, “Take a nap in the sun right here?”

“I can’t imagine anything better,” he replied, his hand holding yours to his chest closing his eyes and just enjoying the calm around him with you by his side.

*

It was decided that in order to get to Coruscant on time, you would walk back to Theed.

The walk was not too strenuous and even though it was long, it offered some wonderful views of the Naboonian landscape and nature. That and the climate was nice. It was not too warm, not too cold and there was just the right amount of breeze in the air.

Even Thalassa seemed to be in better spirits.

That was, until Din had to tell her that there was no way you would be able to catch another passenger ship to Coruscant today.

“But then how will we get to Coruscant?” Thalassa asked in terror.

“I think I might know someone,” Din grumbled.

Paz snorted.

You, walking beside him, looked at him questioningly. He only shook his head, already looking forward to Thalassa’s distraught face when she would see what Din had meant.

*

It was not even a commercial passenger ship. It was a freightship to Coruscant and Thalassa’s (and yours) face could have made him laugh if it hadn’t made him wince. His shoulder was still hurting as if a loth cat had decided to bury her teeth into the muscle but he simply shouldered his bag on the other side.

That friend of Din’s, Peli was her name, had owed him a favour and a few placed on the board of the freight ship were apparently enough to cover that debt. Which is how he found himself next to you, sitting on the floor of the hull.

The one advantage this had was that freight ships were much quicker than any other mode of transportation. You were huddled up next to him, your head on his shoulder, his coat laying over you.

You were fiddling with his large hand in yours, playing with his fingers. Paz was fascinated by how small your hand was compared to his and maybe it was the pain or the exhaustion but he spread his fingers completely out, waiting for you to catch on.

He heard your small huff of laughter when you understood what he wanted to do. Gently, you laid your palm against his, seeing how his hand dwarfed yours. He smiled before closing his hold on your hand and pulling you closer until you were completely seated in his lap.

You hummed, settling your head on his shoulder, your breath fanning against his neck.

“How long until we’re there?” you asked quietly.

(Somewhere a few rows back, Thalassa was complaining about one thing or another. But he was good at tuning her out in favour of listening to you.)

“Only a few hours,” he muttered quietly, “By this time tomorrow we will be there. Then, it will only be a matter of time until we can find Thalassa’s family at the gala.”

“Have you thought about what you want to do – when it is all over?” you asked carefully.

“I will go back home,” he answered, “With the money, we can build a new school. I can get some improvements on my home done, some repairs.”

“That sounds lovely,” you answered, with a smile, “Do you think I could visit you sometime? You and the students, of course.”

“I would want nothing more,” he said quietly, “I could show you the lake, the forest, there is this nice walk up the hill from where you can see the stars at night, you would like it.”

As you both fell asleep you did not know you dreamt of the same thing.

A future together.

*

Coruscant was loud and bright and glittering.

And word spread fast – really fast – because as soon as they stepped foot into one of the spaceports, an elderly woman approached them, introducing herself as a distant aunt of Thalassa’s. A distanced aunt who had arranged for food and lodging for the entire stay.

Paz had never wanted to hug a stranger so badly in his life.

The hotel they had been ordered to was one of the finest places he had ever stayed in and they all got their individual suites. A whole suite.

“It is beautiful”, you breathed next to him, looking up at the decorated ceiling, “I don’t think I have ever seen anything this beautiful.”

Paz bit his lip. I have seen you, he wanted to say, I have seen you smile and that will be the most beautiful moment of my life.

But he did not say anything. No, he simply nodded and disappeared into his room, taking the longest shower of his life and dressing in a new suit before swallowing three bacta pills at once.

It did not take long for Thalassa to be completely back in her element. For the gala, she would need a new dress. Which meant that no price was too high, no amount of glitter or skin showing too much. And because he and Din wanted to make sure that she would remain safe until they could get the reward for finding her, they needed to accompany her on her trip.

Her trip through every single shop Coruscant’s elite had to offer.

With every shop they left, the bags got increasingly fuller and heavier and as the designated carrier of goods Paz was a little grumpy. But that soon passed when he saw how happy you were, grinning and joking with Thalassa as the latter tried on dress after dress.

As Thalassa was trying on more and more dresses – no end in sight as the wallet of her family seemed to be bottomless – Paz was sitting on one of the chairs, watching you.

You were busy staring at a mannequin at the back of the store. Your eyes were wide and your mouth slightly open in wonder as your fingers brushed over the glittering fabric of the dress.

“Would you like to try it on, ma’am?” the attending salesperson asked you

A sad smile formed on your lips and you shook your head. Paz frowned, leaning forward to hear what you said.

“No thank you,” you declined, “it’s really beautiful though.”

“Are you sure?” the woman asked again, “It’s a beautiful gown, I am sure it would look wonderful on you. Especially for the gala.”

“I can’t afford it,” you replied, shame on your face and in your voice. Paz’s heart broke for you and he frowned, unable to stop thinking about your sadness.

He watched as you looked wistfully at the dress, making your way back to where Thalassa had just stepped out of the dressing room. She was wearing a bright red number and turned this and that way to admire herself in the mirror while Din looked to be suffering even more, knowing that h would have to carry most of her purchases.

“You look wonderful,” you smiled, your eyes roaming over her dress, “Do you think you’ll wear it to the gala?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thalassa mused, her tone falsely indecisive as if she didn’t already know that she would buy the dress.

Paz could barely concentrate on whatever was said. All he could think about was your sad smile and how you had gazed at that dress so longingly. This entire day money was spent on Thalassa. But – you didn’t seem to have anything to wear for the gala.

As the group departed the shop, Paz motioned for Din to walk off without him. His brother in arms nodded knowingly, raising his eyebrows in an I told you so motion. Paz ignored him.

“Everything all right, Paz?” you asked, staying behind as you noticed he hadn’t followed you.

“I think you should try it on,” he blurted out, motioning to the dress, “For me … please.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, “I –“

“Yes,” he nodded, “Yes I am sure and I know you want to. Come one, love … for me.”

A few minutes later you stepped out of the dressing room, looking absolutely magnificent. Paz’s mouth gaped open as he sat in the chair. The fabric left your shoulders bare and there was a slit up your leg and stars you looked pretty. As you saw yourself in the mirror, your whole face lit up and he could only feel the warmth in his cheeks as you twirled for him.

“It is so beautiful,” you murmured in awe, hands gliding over the fabric, “It is like the colour of the night sky.”

“You look … you look perfect,” he brought out, his voice hoarse, “You look really beautiful.”

“Well, it – it was nice having it tried on,” you smiled, clearly trying to mask your sadness and his heart broke.

As you disappeared into the changing room, he whirled around to the saleswoman, “How much?”

She smiled at him knowingly. “We would be able to deliver it to your accommodation without her knowing about it,” she said as she slipped him the paper with the number.

It was not as high as he had feared. And with the pay coming in soon, this would be nothing.

“Good,” he nodded, “It should be a surprise.”

*

After a rather exhausting shopping spree with Thalassa, you were happy to be back in the hotel.

It was nice to see her in her element and certainly good to know that everyone here behaved like her. Even if it was a little annoying.

You sighed as you returned to your room. The gala was approaching fast and you were still thinking about what to get dressed in. You had brought your only good dress from home but that had been the standards from home. This here was something else entirely.

With a look at the grey fabric, looking colourless against the vibrant furniture of your hotel, you remembered the dress you had tried on. How Paz had looked at you so adoringly. How his voice had hitched and made your heartbeat quicken.

It was frustrating that you could not afford it and you wondered if maybe Thalassa would lend you one of her dresses if you asked her.

You let yourself fall onto the soft couch in the bedroom, taking in a deep breath. Yes, you were feeling a bit down. Everyone was getting ready for the opera gala and you felt like you were the only one who would be completely out of place. Even Din and Paz knew how to behave around high society, it seemed, and you clung to the idea of just … hanging out with them the entire night. Not that you wanted to do anything else anyway.

Sitting up, a box on your bed caught your eye and you frowned. You recognized the symbol from the shop and your heart skipped a beat. Quickly you stood up and walked over to your bed, keeping your eyes on the box in case you blinked and it disappeared.

Excitement grew in you and you carefully lifted the top, you squealed and let it fall back into place.

The dress.

He had bought the dress for you.

Your hands trembling from excitement and you were sure your face hurt because you were smiling so widely.

With a look at the clock, you knew you needed to hurry and you practically ran under the shower, getting ready as quickly as possible. When your body was dry enough, you hurried to the box, pulling on the dress and grinning when it fit perfectly. It was even prettier than in the shop and for the first time, you allowed yourself to truly admire yourself in the mirror.

You were excited and you looked excited. And happy and bubbly and in love and –

“Knock, knock, can I come on?” Paz’s voice sounded from outside and your smile got even wider.

“Yes, come on in!” you called, turning around to greet him.

The man stepped inside, faltering as he saw you, if only for a second, and your heart raced in your chest. He was all fancied up in his black suit and tie. His shoulder looked broad and strong and you saw that he was not wearing a blaster. He was truly ready for high society.

“Got you a present,” he murmured almost bashfully, “ I thought Thalassa could not be the only one with a bit of jewelry.”

“You already gifted me this,” you gestured to the dress, “And I will never be able to thank you for it, I – thank you, Paz, it is so lovely and it means so much and I –“, you sniffled, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Hey now,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you, “no crying, this was supposed to make you happy.”

“And it did,” you whispered, burying into his chest, “It does.”

“Good,” he said, his arm wrapping around your waist, “Because I remember that a pretty lady promised to dance with me tonight.”

“And she intends to keep that promise,” you smiled up at him, resting your chin on his chest. It was warm and safe and familiar and your heart hurt at the thought of never seeing him again.

Then he pulled a smaller box out of his jacket, “Good, now are you ready for your second present?”

You nodded. He made a circle motion with his finger and obediently you turned around so your back was to him. You gasped when you felt something cold touch your neck and when you looked in the mirror you saw that it was a necklace he was fasting at the back of your neck.

It consisted of white gemstones, glittering in the light of the lamps and you felt you had never worn anything this expensive. You were captured by his gaze, feeling your chest and cheeks heat up with how he looked at you. His rough fingertips grazed the sensitive skin on your throat and back of your neck and goosebumps erupted everywhere his touch went. You never wanted him to stop touching you.

“You look stunning,” he said, holding your gaze, “Like the stars.”

“Thank you, Paz,” you whispered, slowly leaning back so he could rest his chin on your shoulder, his arms enveloping your middle, “It is beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” he replied with a smile, “Now, are you ready to stun some old rich people?”

You giggled, your heart skipping a beat as he took your hand.

*

The only way to describe how you behaved in the opera was the following: a couple. As soon as you stepped out of the speeder, your arm had wrapped around his and you remained by his side the entire time. A fact that made him immensely proud.

He had watched with you by his side as Thalassa had reunited with her family and Din had received the payment in full. You were the one he was seated next to in the little private booth before the performance was starting to be honest he did not want it any other way.

He never once let go of your hand, his thumb constantly drawing patterns on your skin as you talked about all the different novelties this performance had to offer.

And it did not seem like you wanted him to either. You kept whispering about all the different things you saw, the pretty lights and dressed and clothes and the food as you shared a few appetizers with him. You both watched Thalassa in the booth with her family, getting reacquainted after years of being separated from each other.

But by far his favourite part was that his lips brushed your skin whenever he spoke into your ear.

“Everything is so beautiful here,” you murmured to him, gently squeezing his hand, “it is exciting isn’t it?”

“It is,” he agreed, keeping his eyes on you, your excited smile, and the way your free hand kept drifting to the necklace he had gifted you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear,” you admitted bashfully, tilting your head closer to him, to hear him better. Paz’s heart skipped a beat as he leant closer, his lips now brushing your ear. “I said,” he murmured, “It is beautiful and – I think you are the most beautiful person here.”

He heard your breath hitch and gathered his courage to lean down and press a soft kiss just beneath your ear. And as if that was not enough, he raised your hand softly against his lips again before leaning back into his own space.

You looked at him softly, a small smile on your lips and he could see how your chest heaved.

Then, you took his hand back, pulling it against your lips this time and pressing a gentle kiss against each of his knuckles, all the while keeping his gaze. Paz forgot how to breathe. And suddenly he knewhe needed to tell you now, needed to askyou now.

“When our business is done here,” he began, his throat dry and scratchy, “Would you – would you maybe like to – I mean with me, would you like to –“

“Thalassa invited us to dinner afterwards, would you like to come – oh, I am sorry.”

He had never hated Din more in his life.

*

Paz was pacing the hallway in front of Thalassa’s room.

The entire dinner he had not gotten any chance to talk to you and suddenly it had been time to go and he had overheard someone talking about how you would be offered to stay here. With Thalassa. As her assistant or something.

He had not even been able to call your name or grab your hand before the princess had whisked you away into her room and now everything felt too tight and constricting. Panic flooded him. Panic that you might accept the offer. Panic that he could not tell you how he felt. Panic that he had lost you before he even had a chance to offer himself to you.

It felt like an eternity before the door opened and you looked almost surprised to see him there. Paz’s heart pounded in his chest, a feeling of now or never coursing through him. You opened your mouth but he stopped you before you could say anything.

“Let me just –“ he murmured, “Let me just say … this. Please don’t go, love, please don’t stay here, I – I know I have nothing much to offer, certainly not as much as this,” he gestured around the grand hallway, “But … by the stars, I will make sure you will lack for nothing, I promise.”

You did not say anything.

“I – I love you,” he confessed, his shoulders dropping relief of finally having said what he had kept with him for so long, “and I – please stay with me, please come home with me, I – I can’t bear to say goodbye to you now.”

You looked at him with big eyes, teary eyes, stepping closer to him. “Paz,” you murmured, searching his gaze for something, “I declined the job offer,” you looked down at your hands, nervously fiddling with them. Automatically he took them in his, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles.

“I love you too,” you whispered with a smile, “Very much so and I – I don’t want to say goodbye to you yet.”

“What are you saying,” he murmured, a wider grin on his face, raising your hands to his lips, “You coming home with me, love?”

“Yes,” you smiled, nudging your nose against his, “I am.”

With your words echoing in his head, he leant down and softly pressed his lips to yours. It was a slow kiss, one that you immediately started to reciprocate and goosebumps erupted all over his skin at the feeling of your lips against his. Stars, you were soft and warm and wonderful.

He felt your hands on the back of his neck, playing with the short curls there and he smiled against you, stepping closer and wrapping his arm around your waist. A giggle escaped your lips and he gripped you tighter, chasing your mouth with his as you pulled away to breathe. You did not complain one bit when his lips landed on your jaw instead, gripping his shoulders tighter as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Whatever journey lay ahead of you, you would master it together.

[pr1ncessm00n]

hey everyone :) a little chat/ serious psa below

sorry for my unannounced hiatus lol- i’ve had a bit much on my plate. but my plate is cleared! i can’t say the last chapter of common sense will come this week because i’m still drafting and i want it to be a perfect, long, ending to this series 💕 it’s my favorite one i’ve written so far so i want to do it, and y’all, justice!

i also started a stan twitter! so if you would like to go ahead and follow that my username is @mikasas2casa (hehe creative ik). i am also on AO3 where i will crosspost my fics! my ao3 used is the same as my tumblr, but i haven’t uploaded anything yet as i’m still trying to make it work. i refuse to join wattpad tho that’s too far gone for me, rip old wattpad you will be missed.

i won president at school!! so that means more responsibility, but hey it’s what i wanted so i’m very pleased :)

serious time…

the only thing i ask is to please not flood my inbox with asks about when i’ll update again lol. i try to be as active as possible but sometimes i just can’t sit and chat or respond to everyone asking me when i’m gonna write. it makes me feel rushed and like i’m only seen as a source of entertainment lol. while i did have sunday as my usual update day, i’ve tried my best to abide by it but i am human and things do come up. which is why i’m letting everyone know ahead of time that this sunday nor this week is a guaranteed publish date. yes i am working hard on it and i have not put it off, but i am also a full time student, work two jobs (one internship which is unpaid), and frankly this is a side hobby for me. it doesn’t mean i don’t love it, but obviously i have priorities and i won’t be able to write if i’m broke and degreeless lol. rudeness doesn’t really get you anywhere besides blocked so i just wanted to make that clear! i also have a bunch of requests to work on so i’m trying my best to provide multiple sources of content. i do enjoy writing but when people send me rude asks or rude messages directly it kind of sucks the fun out of that.

i also want to make it clear that i joined tumblr as a creative outlet and with no intention to gain a bunch of followers or be noticed! and i do appreciate almost 500 followers in such a short time and over 600 notes, i didn’t join for clout at all so not to sound like a total bitch but if this is becoming toxic i won’t hesitate to leave, and then we all lose. so i think it pays off to be nice if im writing something you supposedly want me to continue lol <3

and please, while i don’t mind interacting with you guys in comments just please be mindful that i have my own struggles and like i said, tumblr is my safe place to escape that for a bit. so if you’re trauma dumping in my inbox or dms it’s kind of uncomfortable for me and i am not qualified fo give anyone advice on how to deal with traumatic situations lol so just please be mindful that i’m just a nineteen year old trying to write fanfiction. i’ve already had some pretty crappy interactions with online friends in the past so i just prefer to keep my space sometimes, and i’m not averse to friendship! but i do prefer to just be a bit more private sometimes lol. i know that sounds weird bc i tell y’all updates on my life and stuff but that’s more general stuff, not deep dark personal secret time lmaoo so let’s be mindful of that please.

thank you for all the support and appreciation you’ve shown <3 and no i’m not mad at any of you (except the rude nonnies in my dms demanding an update?? i wish youd expose yourself so i could block u lol) but im just not very good at establishing boundaries and thats something i need to work on without offending anyone!! ok i talk too much bye guys <3 see u soon!

[maydaymadier]

Time

[Disclaimer: I’m currently slightly more than halfway through the c2 finale and I’m going to try and avoid spoilers since well, there’s still like 3hrs of content to get spoiled on.  Will likely crosspost to my ao3]

“Time, it takes time, not days or weeks or years.  Time.”

Caleb Widogast was right, though to be precise it takes 100 consecutive days of inscribing a teleportation circle in the same place to make it permanent.  Nicodranas was the first teleportation circle Essek Thelyss finished.  100 days of pounding sun and coastal heat felt fitting to start his time.  He had his trepidations about better acquainting himself with Yussa, less so with Ms. Lavorre.  The Nein asked why he needed to make a teleportation circle in Nicodranas, they already had access to Tidepeak Tower’s.  ‘Yes, however, we will not have to give anyone advance notice to use our own.’  

Jester made something of a habit of bringing him a new parasol or sunhat each time she visited, even brought him tinted glasses she found once.  If he knew she was coming he’d make sure to wear one of them.  

Each time he ran out of chalk he’d wrap himself in illusion and teleport himself to Zadash.  Meanwhile, the stores in his towers grew dust-laden, his absence from the Dynasty more suspicious, and he bought his chalk from Enchanter Sol.  The Mighty Nein were a family, regardless of any distance, and he had the means to make distance mean nothing.  So Essek Thelyss carried on.  And on the hundredth day, he stepped into a circle in Nicodranas and stepped out in the Blooming Grove.

He was invited in for tea, as expected, and accepted as was polite.  The next day he found the spot behind the temple where the grass had been flattened by the circle delivering him and started his next hundred days.  He ‘compensated’ for his intrusion with his floating meditative guard each night.  Caduceus seemed to pick up on what he was doing faster than Jester had, by a thin margin.  The remaining Clay children would poke their noses in once and a while, curious about their drow visitor they’d only met briefly before but they remembered him helping garden after Ikithon set the temple ablaze.  They would offer him a plate at meals, he insisted on using his own rations in a strange dance of hospitality and being a polite guest.  

At one point, after finishing the day’s circle he considered venturing through the Savalirwood to Glory Run Road, find Mollymauk’s grave.  But it felt disrespectful to Kingsley somehow in a way he couldn’t articulate.  If he were to be more dramatic it felt like an invasion of privacy to the rest of the Nein as a whole, intruding on a moment on a place where they were unknowing adversaries.  So he kept inscribing circles in the grass and sometimes he found fresh chalk in his component pouch.  On occasion, Caduceus found saplings and cuttings of Xorhasian plants on his windowsill.

On the hundredth day he stepped into the circle in the Blooming Grove and came out under Caduceus’s tree in the Xorhaus.  He was far more careful with this one.  The Xorhaus was sparsely used, bordering on abandoned at this point, more than ready for the Nein to inhabit it once again.  Beauregard, oft accompanied by Yasha, used it the most for when they visited Rosohna on Cobalt Soul business.  The Bright Queen had been more than amenable to working with the Soul once she knew they were dismantling the organization that had stolen the beacons.  

Though it took three days before Beau realized he was working on making a circle on the roof, pruning away his extra time by trying to tame the garden, clad in his rose-patterned gardening gloves, what with his lackluster previous experience.  She offered to go bring him chalk from his towers, anything else he might need that he’d left behind when he was posted in Eiselcross.  He accepted the offer, to eschew suspicion, asking for some simple components that filled any wizard’s pouch.  Sooner than later, soon enough Beau couldn’t knock the truth out of him (not that she needed to do that or would, he was growing increasingly susceptible to disappointed stares from his friends) he stepped into the circle in Rosohna and stepped out in Rexxentrum.

His skin crawled and felt like it would slough off with each passing day.  He wasn’t so bold at this point to attempt and make a circle on Soltryce’s grounds but he did take pleasure in chipping away the next hundred days in the courtyard of Trent Ikithon’s now abandoned tower.  It was a joy, absolutely cathartic tearing apart what little remained hidden away of the bastard’s stores.  The most valuable and precious artifacts and components were hidden in ways only an archmage would even know about or know how to unlock.  Malicious clumsiness might have gotten him to break an important, now inert, magical tool or two as he rummaged through the tower for chalk.  

Though one day, he noticed an owl perched in a tree, watch him for an hour, disappear for a few minutes, reappear, so on and so forth for the whole day.  He had a good idea who the owl was but she never watched him again after that.  If she wanted to know what he was doing here, fine.  It wasn’t like either could rat out the other without drawing unwanted attention to them both.  So on the hundredth day, what little remained of Trent Ikithon’s personal study even more thoroughly destroyed, he stepped into the circle in Rosohna and stepped out.

Essek chipped away at the for now final circle under the watchful light of Pelor.  Passively, the part of him that absorbed every ounce of knowledge, regardless if he cared or not, wondered what the connection may be between whatever the Luxon is and the Dawnfather.  Just a fun little thought experiment to occupy him while he worked through the next hundred days.

By the end of Brussendar, with Highsummer fast approaching, he’d decided that he ought to have brought at least one of Jester’s hats.  Though more importantly he’d decided that the thought was silly and any connection between the two deities must be entirely aesthetic.  Nothing he didn’t already know but what else can a wizard do but overthink?

It wasn’t the same level of festivities he’d heard about with Harvest’s Close but Highsummer seemed to be the close second in Blumenthal.  He sat, disguised in the shade of an oak probably as old as he was and simply watched from afar.  Somewhere in the crowd, he saw a flash of copper.  Tried not to think to much of it.  Red hair seemed slightly more common in this corner of the empire.  He caught the sweeping arc of a long, striped scarf being tossed over a shoulder.  A leather coat dusting at the ground (though he had looked so good in purple).

Caleb Widogast stepped out of the crowd and sat under the oak with him, “I suppose a criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.” “I suppose I have,” Essek stared at his feet. Caleb offered him some sort of sweet roll wrapped in paper, “I was not talking about you.” He ignored the comment, “How long has it been?  Since we last spoke.” “Four hundred and eighty-six days.  About a year and a half to be informal,” he just set down the roll next to his hand when he didn’t move to take it. “I keep thinking one day it will have been enough time.” “Looking for the specific number will drive you mad.  Are you just going to keep making circles across Wildemount until you feel that you’ve atoned?” Essek took the roll but only held it,  “I know that I cannot make up for everything.  What are you doing here, anyways?” “I have been trying to convince myself to visit.  Maybe try to pay my respects if I can stomach it.  The others had already told me what you were doing, but Astrid told me where you were going.  Figured now was good a time as any,” his expression darkened, the reality beyond the afterglow of a hard-won victory whispering into both their ears. “I-,” Essek started. “Did you know I was from here before you picked it or did you just want to taunt Rexxentrum by hiding in their breadbasket for a while?” Caleb stared him down. “I knew.” “Alright then.” “I hope I have not intruded in some way by coming here.” “I suppose we were both curious about the echo.  It’s right up your alley, prodigious dunamancer and whatnot,” Caleb glanced back up at the revelers before turning his attention back to him “I would not discount your own skill, you’ve picked up dunamancy quite quickly and with a level of skill I have rarely seen.”  Maybe they can just talk about magic. “Danke.” There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation.

“When do you think-?” Essek tried asking. “I don’t.  I will not pretend to know when enough time will have passed for the past not to hurt us anymore, Essek.  And counting it in teleportation circles will not make it go any faster,” he said, though with the crushing sadness to his eyes of a man who wished he were wrong. “I am trying to make it easier for us to see each other,” he said with easy authority. “It is much easier to see each other when we don’t run off to the four corners,” Caleb added on with a tired chuckle. “What are you implying?”  Something caught between excitement and unease hit him. “I can stay.  Help you finish the circle here, we can leave, make another.  As many circles as we want.  We can have the continent at our fingertips.  Maybe even go back to what remains of Aeor in Eiselcross.  Devexian couldn’t have been the only mechanical inhabitant.  For all we know there is a city of automatons underneath the ice now,” Caleb got more excited and dreamy as he went on, the unbridled excitement of a mage faced with knowledge. “That sounds...nice...,” Essek trailed off, trying to sound as neutral as he could manage. “Do you want that, Essek?”

It felt like the word was tearing its way out of him, “Yes.”

[dayurno]

@andrewsrabies and i had a very productive conversation on the kandreil server about catholic au kandreil so here it is the result of my moral obligation to write it as an ex catholic school student

no tws this is just gay as hell. i also might crosspost it on ao3 at some point. so who knows. please be aware this is definitely a little bit blasphemic

the father.

“You will never have him.”

Neil smirks. “Are you talking from your own experience?”

The roof is too windy, too dark —  Neil, with his back to Andrew and draped over the ledge, knows just one push would be enough. He doubts he’d ever resist the fall: Palmetto Academy is too lofty of a building to match its even loftier saints. 

Yet Andrew does not dare to approach the ledge, and Neil does not turn around to see him. There is no reason to, when both know what they are here for — “He is better than you,” Andrew tonelessly points out, the edge of irritation making something red and ripe unfurl inside Neil, “in every conceivable way.”

“One thing we have in common,” Neil observes, crushing his cigarette against the ledge. “You do not strike me as worthy of Kevin Day, either.” He pauses, then lets his smirk widen. “Not that it stops you, of course. He is the best thing you want. The only, too.”

A heartbeat. Two. Neil would never survive the fall —  as he would never survive Kevin. Some choices are easy to make with your head on the line. 

“Are you a believer?” Andrew asks, at last, his voice ghosting over Neil’s back. It drips and overflows, patiently waiting to sink Neil beneath the waves, every turn of his tongue vicious. 

How can a tongue so cruel be used to kiss someone so good, Neil wonders. Surely Kevin had a taste for poison. 

“Oh, am I?” Neil muses, turning ever so slightly. He does not find Andrew —  doubted that he would. Andrew is as much of a nothing as Neil is. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“You will not have him.”

“Why?” he hums. “You won’t let me?”

“I find it useless to repeat myself.”

Neil taps against his wrist watch. “You should know better than to think that that has ever stopped Kevin before.”

“Define that,” Andrew lazily prompts. A challenge.

“Me, being worthless. Another thing the two of us have in common.”

“We,” he viciously hums, “are nothing alike.”

“No,” Neil agrees. A lie, not his first and definitely not his last. “You hate me and I hate you. Let’s see who hates best.”

Andrew’s gaze burns against Neil’s nape. “I do not hate you more than I want Kevin.”

“How sweet of you.”

For one, Neil wants Andrew to be proved wrong: in some twisted way of his, he wants Andrew to hate him as much —  or perhaps even more —  than he wants Kevin, if only to solidify Neil as a permanent presence in their not-relationship. Hatred, he thinks, is just another form of obsession; almost as intense as desire, but not as contagious. 

One thing was true, though: Neil would not leave Palmetto without having felt Kevin Day’s mouth pressing against his, sweet and young and oh so ill-advised. If that meant having to push through the taste of Andrew’s sour tongue, so be it. The sweetness of Kevin was worth it. 

Neil taps against his wrist watch again, not bothering to look back at Andrew as he says, “Tick tock, your detention is about to start. I believe you have some daily worshipping to do.”

“Daily worshipping,” Andrew scoffs, but, Neil notices, does not disagree. “Is that what you call it when you imagine it in your head?”

“Oh?” Neil drags out. “How Christian of you to think I have to imagine.”

He cannot see Andrew through the ever-thickening fog of tension surrounding them, but Neil knows the twitch of his eyebrow well enough to build a picture in his head. “You will not have him,” he repeats. His voice is far away now — so ready to leave, Neil muses. For all of Andrew’s so called toughness, Kevin’s mouth must keep him on a tight leash. “Even you, stupid as you are, would know not to touch what is mine.”

Neil turns to look at him, catching only a glimpse of Andrew’s pale hair under the dim lighting of the staircase that leads to the rooftop. He hovers by the doorway — waiting for Neil’s next move. Calculating, even; math Neil barely knows the numbers to. “I will make you no promises we both know I will not keep,” is what Neil hums back, dragging out his words like cheap perfume across a hotel room. “I can touch anything, and Kevin doesn’t seem too opposed to it. Kind God of yours, right? Always thinking of those who have less.”

Andrew does not reply. He slams the door behind him, and Neil is once again alone on the roof. 

He lights another cigarette.

Smiles.

Lets it burn.

Rinse and repeat.

the son. 

“And then you— Andrew, you’re not listening to me,” Kevin sighs, his upper lip curling into a soft frown under the egg-yellow lights of the detention office.  

I believe you have some daily worshipping to do. Andrew Minyard hates everything about Neil Josten, from the sharp tip of his tongue to the dim freckles on his cheeks, but for once he is right —  when was the last time Andrew had fulfilled his worshipping duties? Was it last night’s mass, or this morning’s confession? 

Either way: it has been too long. A good Christian is always ready to do better, and Andrew has never been one to slack off on divine duty. 

“No,” Andrew agrees, because he does not lie to Kevin. Leaning against the edge of the teacher’s table and looking all high and mighty with his primly tucked dress shirt, Kevin looks as if he knows he’s worth gold, or at least as if he needs a reminder. “I am not.”

Kevin’s dark eyebrows furrow. “What has gotten you so distracted that you can’t even listen to me?”

Foolish, foolish man that Kevin is, to think that Andrew has ever thought of anything but him. “You,” he replies, blunt and toneless. “Pretty mouth of yours. I couldn’t hear a thing.”

 “Andrew,” Kevin warns, dropping the hands he had just been using to gesticulate. 

“Yes?”

“What are you trying to do?”

Andrew feels the corners of his mouth twitching. “Why, complimenting what is mine. I do it all the time.”

Kevin’s mouth closes, cheeks blushing a ripe red. He is too far away for Andrew’s liking, but preamble is Andrew’s only game, and the view is rather pleasant from his spot at the second row of seats. “You,” he slowly says, raking a hand through his hair, “are too much.”

Andrew motions dismissively, leaning back on his chair to take in all of Kevin’s image. “Kevin and his unwavering self-restraint. So good, hm? I like you best when you give up control.”

“You do not like me.”

“Oh,” Andrew muses, smile sharpening, “I like you.”

It makes Kevin roll his eyes, the reply, but it’s quite fond. “I told you that if you want a kiss, you just have to ask for it.”

He hums in acknowledgement, but changes the subject, “Does your God forgive you for what we do?”

“She knows I’m good,” Kevin replies, all warm smiles and deep dimples. “She’ll forgive me.”

Too good, Andrew thinks —  too good to have anything to do with someone like him. And yet. “Come here, then,” Andrew beckons, motioning him forward. “Give Her something to forgive you for.”

Kevin’s answer is a huffed out laugh, but he complies: Andrew watches in barely-concealed anticipation as he slides through the first row easily, stopping near Andrew’s seat and gracefully leaning against his desk, keeping some respectful distance between them. “I thought I said come here,” Andrew remarks, resting both of his hands on Kevin’s knees. 

Mine, he thinks. And fuck Neil Josten for expecting anything else.

“Lead the way,” is what Kevin says, offering his hands for Andrew to do with them what he wills. 

He does. He tugs on Kevin’s hands to bring him into his lap, to which Kevin easily complies, crossing his hands behind Andrew’s nape and offering him a curious look. “You’re angry about something,” Kevin quietly points out, tipping his head to the side.

Andrew’s hands fly to rest over his thighs. “Ran into your friend at the roof just now.”

Kevin mulls that over on his head for a little before guessing, “Neil?”

“Mhm,” Andrew replies, “the very one.”

It doesn’t fluster Kevin —  Andrew hadn’t it expected it to —, but it does prompt a pensive look in his eyes. “I suppose it makes sense that you don’t get along. You’re too alike.”  

Andrew brushes his lips against Kevin’s, reaching a hand to lightly tug against his tie. “The only thing we have in common,” he says, “is that we both want you.”

Kevin doesn’t look surprised by the new piece of information, but leans in to thoughtfully nibble on Andrew’s lower lip. “Yes,” Kevin agrees, as if he knows the extent of both their devotions —  as if he’s not surprised at all by the enormity of their desire. “You do.”

“And you like it,” Andrew points out.

He is silent for a small while, a warm weight on Andrew’s lap. “He asked me for one kiss,” is what Kevin chooses to eventually say, “and one kiss only. Before he gets expelled.”

“And you love a lost cause.” Andrew tucks a strand of hair behind Kevin’s ear. “Will he get his kiss?”

“I won’t let him get expelled,” Kevin answers, nuzzling against Andrew’s palm as painstakingly eager as always. “I’ll strike a deal if needed. He has potential.”

“To what?” he wondered aloud. “He is nothing.”

Kevin frowns. “No one is nothing. Everyone is worth something.”

“Savior complex,” Andrew teases, fitting his palm against Kevin’s jaw and bringing him down. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“One kiss can’t hurt,” he says. Not an answer as much as it is a thought. 

Andrew hums, fitting their noses together. “But do you want him?” he asks, brushing his mouth against Kevin’s. “Or do you just like that he wants you?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“No.”

“Hm,” Kevin says, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

Then leans in. 

Andrew forgets what he was talking about. 

the holy ghost. 

“Have you thought about my offer yet?” Neil asks, perched on top of a bench as he stares over at Kevin, the early morning light brushing through his auburn hair. Palmetto’s garden is paler than it has ever been at Autumn’s peak, but Kevin loves the season —  finding Neil on his morning was just a bonus. 

Kevin stretches his arms out lazily, feeling Neil’s eyes follow his every movement, before replying, “What can I give you to make you stay?” 

Neil smiles, tight-lipped. “I don’t stay, Kevin.”

“Well,” Kevin draws out, supporting himself against the bench Neil is perched on to stretch his right leg. “Then I suppose you don’t want that kiss like you say you do.”

“Oh,” Neil’s smile melts into a lazy smirk, the dark bags under his eyes competing against the brightly lit end of his cigarette. “Oh, you don’t know how bad I want it.”

“Prove it,” is Kevin’s easy reply, his rosary dripping down his chest as he moves to stretch his other leg, Neil’s eyes boring holes through the exposed skin. “Put some effort into staying. Don’t let yourself get expelled.”

Neil mulls it over in his head for a moment, but Kevin is in no rush —  this early in the morning they are the only people awake on campus, which means there is no danger of interruption that is not divine. 

Good Lord, Kevin quietly thinks to himself, all of my life I have been good. Let me have this. 

At last, Neil prompts, “You sure think highly of yourself to believe that one kiss is enough to make a man stay. Aren’t your people supposed to be humble?”

“I’m God-fearing,” Kevin corrects, “not stupid. I see how you look at me.”

“We all have our gods,” Neil hums, turning around to straddle the back of the bench and stare straight into Kevin’s front. “I’m just wondering what I have to do to keep the Goddess on my side.”

“Which Goddess?”

Neil smiles. “You.”

“Stay,” Kevin replies, “and I will be close enough for you to get tired of me.”

“Oh, I don’t reckon I will.”

“Can’t know if you never try.” Kevin bends to stretch his left leg one more time before pulling himself up, now face to face with Neil. “And you still haven’t disagreed with me, so I’m guessing a kiss is enough to make you stay, after all.”

“Hm,” Neil hums, thoughtful, without ever taking his eyes off of Kevin’s face. “It might just be circumstance. You should burn those shorts of yours before the fire of Hell does.”

Kevin tips his head to the side in challenge. “But Andrew likes them so much.”

“I’m sure that he does.” He breathes into the smoke of his cigarette one last time before killing the flame against the bench. At last, Neil concedes, “Keep my interest, Kevin Day, and I’ll stay.”

“You’re interested aplenty already,” Kevin observes as Neil’s eyes dart downwards. “So much so I might have to schedule a session at the confessionary for you.”

Neil swipes his tongue over his teeth like a snake licking venom out of its own fangs. “Why wait? I’ll confess to you now all of my thoughts.”

“I recognize I’m a creature of the divine, Neil, but I’m not fit to be a priest.”

“Of course not,” Neil solemnly agrees. “What would be of that Andrew of yours, if you were?”

Kevin presses his lips together, the memory of Andrew’s bed still fresh against his skin. “He’d be just like you,” is what Kevin limits himself to replying. “Just waiting to get expelled.”

Neil’s mouth spreads in a smile that’s a bit more genuine, not snarky or coy as it usually is, and Kevin offers him a curious glance. “Ah, so the rumors are true: you did straighten him up. Was one kiss enough, I wonder, or was Andrew more expensive to keep?”

“He knew what he would lose if he got expelled,” Kevin replies, “and he made his choice.”

“So you say,” Neil hums. He pushes himself closer to Kevin almost lazily, using his hands to keep himself up at the same time as Kevin leans an elbow against the back of the bench to stare up at Neil, meeting him halfway. “The Catholic church owes you so many converts. You are a Saint among men.”

“It is the men that I often convert,” he chooses to say. “They are easier to lure in.”

Neil chuckles under his breath. “I think Andrew and I are just weaker than the majority,” he observes, then pulls away to light another cigarette. “Go have your run. Burn those shorts when you’re done with it.”

Kevin rolls his eyes, but does what he’s told.

Not the shorts, though —  those stayed in his closet.

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 1

I told myself I was gonna take a break. I lied. I wanted to write a whole bin of Sin for Simeon. I’m sorry, not sorry at all. Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list: Chapter Masterlist: Here Crossposted on Ao3: here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Paring: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 4,900 ish Genre: Smut Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, hints of dirty talk? Summary: Sent from the Celestial realm to observe and study humans; Simeon made a name for himself as the illustrious author of The Tales of the Seven Lords. After reaching acclaim for his first series, he's having trouble writing his next great hit. Good thing you're there for him as his manager and editor to help him work out the... kinks in writing.

Trip

The most dangerous aspect of humans was their innate ability to tempt even the most stalwart and steadfast of angels into a world of sin. Simeon was not immune to their ways, no matter how reclusive he became. It was easy to study them from afar, learning about them through numbers and sales numbers. The masses were easy to sway with a few pretty words. Blending in with humans was a trivial task for him. All he had to do was make a few public appearances for book signings and some launch parties for a new series; otherwise he was free to observe and study from afar. 

After the international success of The Tale of The Seven Lords, Simeon found himself feeling rather empty. He needed a new project to keep him entertained in the human realm. However, no matter what he started to work on, it didn’t inspire the same sort of passion he had for his older series. He needed a new genre, a new style of writing to refresh his passion for words. If he was going to make it in an ever changing market, he would need to adapt as well. Yet, no matter what genre he tried, every draft he came up with seemed too mundane and overdone. 

Everything except, for the temptation of writing something much more salacious than his last work. 

Just entertaining the thought had him on a slippery slope of falling from the grace of the Celestial realm. Sure, the strict protocols of olde had been loosened over the centuries. Many angels realized that enforcing perfect adherence to the standards of purity set so long ago no longer applied to modern times. Rules had been loosened and enforcement had relaxed to the point where Simeon was almost positive if he wrote an absolutely obscene novel, he didn’t risk losing his Celestial powers. 

The only problem was that he had no experience in the genre at all. He threw together a vague plot and outline, thinking it would be all he needed to inspire him. Surprisingly enough, the publishing house allowed for the drastic change in genre, confident that he would be able to create another best seller. Just having that much trust put in him made him want to succeed even more with the haphazard novel idea. 

But, despite his determination to make his new manuscripts lewd, he was at a complete loss as to what, and how to write them properly. The outline he presented to you seemed excellent on paper. Even if it had a few plot holes, you knew he could patch them up with a little work. So, it was natural that you would push the approval and leave him to his own devices to work on the manuscript. You were sure that an author of his caliber would be able to break into a new branch of the literary market without any issues. 

But, after several months of waiting, you had no contact at all from him regarding the progress of his new book. The industry needed proof of his work in order to justify their investment in him. Being so renowned, the pressure was on him to create something magnificent. You could only imagine the kind of stress he was going through and as his manager and editor, you were responsible for making sure he met deadlines. You hated to rush his process, but there was no way he could meet the dates set by the publisher if he didn’t give you something to work with soon. 

After trying to reach out to him several times by phone and email with little to no response, the only option left was to go to his abode and see just what he was hiding from. No other outline he submitted had passed so this was his one and only chance to continue his writing career. You patiently waited after knocking on his door, hoping he would answer and wasn’t going to ignore you any further. You knew how serious writer’s block could be; but you hoped he wouldn’t let that get in the way of being a professional. 

Luckily, the door opened soon enough and you were ushered in by an extremely tired and frazzled looking Simeon. He lead you to his office after you had taken off your shoes and changed into the guest slippers he offered. Simeon didn’t speak to you during the whole exchange, a shell of the soft spoken and attentive author you had come to know after so many years of working with him. He shuffled into his office, an obvious slouch in his posture and slumped behind his desk before gesturing at the empty chair across from him. 

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” You said and he sighed in resignation, burrowing his head in his hands and running them through his hair. You felt terrible adding stress onto him, he looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they almost looked like deep bruises. 

“Yes… You want a manuscript…” his normally soft voice sounded hoarse and you wondered if he had eaten or drunken anything at all that day. “I’m almost done with the first draft… would you like to come and see?” He turned his laptop towards you and you started reading what he had so far. 

All seemed well and good at first. The characters were believable and the premise, though a bit cheesy, was definitely acceptable for the genre. The further you read, the more you noticed large gaps in his writing. Whole paragraphs seemed to be missing and sentences ended midway. Dialog was left unfinished and by the time you reached the end of the first chapter, it was a mess. You could already feel the inevitable headache you were going to get from editing for him. 

“Uhm…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my best work.” 

He tried to smile, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. You reached out to him and held his hand, rubbing your thumb in reassuring circles on his palm. “You’ve worked hard on it, still. What’s got you so hung up though?” 

He got a little flustered at your question, nervously running his hand through his hair and looking to the side. Writing such a topic with no experience in it was proving to be difficult for him. He could research all he wanted and consume all the media he could to aid him, but there was just something missing. His lack of knowledge was showing and he wasn’t sure how he could keep being composed about his failure so far. He gestured at the screen and shrugged, trying to get his message across without using words; but, when he saw your confused expression, he had to speak. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he finally admitted. “I want to write this so badly, but I don’t know how to… describe the scenes the way I want to.” 

You sat back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest and nodding. You could only imagine the difficulty he was having in producing the quality content you were sure he was used to coming up with. With deadlines looming above your head, you needed at least a chapter to submit to the publishing house so they knew actual work was being done. You sighed, trying to think of ways to jump start his creativity. The gloomy atmosphere of his office didn’t seem help. The lights were dim and the curtains were all drawn. It didn’t feel like a place that could invoke the imagery he was going for. “Let’s move somewhere.” you suggested finally. “Do you have a room with lots of sunlight? Maybe a change of mood will help.” 

“Ah… there’s the sunroom..” he said. “But I don’t know if just changing where I am writing will help the situation. If it hasn’t gotten done here, I doubt it will anywhere else.” 

“Just try it.” you encouraged, already unplugging his laptop and taking it with you. “It’s so gloomy in here, even I’m getting depressed just sitting around. Come on, which way is it?” 

“Ah… this way.” He said, shamefully shuffling out from behind his desk and showing you the way to the sunroom which overlooked a rather well manicured garden with a variety of flowers in full bloom. You marveled at the bright, airy feel of the room and took a second to really appreciate his choice in decor. 

“Wow, would have never pegged you as the kind of guy who gardens.” You teased, flopping onto the couch he had in there and lounged in its plush confines. Looking through the glass ceiling, you watched a few clouds drift by while Simeon got comfortable in a recliner in the corner of the room. You could tell he was still a bit frustrated, but you knew getting him some sun would do him good. 

“Well, when I don’t have any pressing deadlines, being with the plants helps relieve stress. It’s unfortunate that I cannot give you a tour this time.” 

“There’s plenty of opportunities in the future. They’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. You know I’m going to keep hounding you until your manuscript is finished.” 

He chuckled, nodding and opening up his laptop. You let silence pass between the two of you, going back to watching the clouds while the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard lulled you into a daydream like state. You grabbed onto one of the large, decorative pillows he had on the couch, clutching it against your chest while you made up stories in your head about the clouds above. If you weren’t so stressed about turning something into the publishing house so soon; it would have been a perfect, calming afternoon. 

The clack of the keyboard stopped after a little bit. Whatever inspiration Simeon had when he entered the room seemed to have fizzled out and he was stuck in yet another rut, writing one word and deleting it over and over again. You sighed, turning to watch him as he gnawed on his thumb, mumbling to himself. 

“What’s not working?” You asked, your curiosity piqued. 

“Just… this scene… it’s not working. I can’t envision it.” He grumbled. Looking up at where you were laying on his couch, clutching onto the pillow, he was suddenly struck by a brilliant plan. The worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he broke out into a slight smile when he realized how he could get his creative juices flowing. “Help me… I need inspiration.” 

You sat up straight, ready to assist in any way you could. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” You asked. 

Simeon squinted, in the right light, you looked similar to the main character he had written. His plan could work if you reenacted the scene he had in mind. The issue was actually explaining the scene to you in a way that didn’t make his body feel overheated. He was already playing with fire by writing such a lewd book, pushing his limits further felt like he was sliding right down a slope heading towards a great fall. There was no other way, he reasoned. As long as I do not defile her, it’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, he got up from where he was and walked over to you. 

“I need you to…. Uhm… Well.. how do I say this… I’m having trouble writing a love making scene and I need some… visual aids.” You blinked, processing his request and then looked him up and down, feeling your whole body heat up at once. You were sure you had kept your crush on him a secret. To have him ask you so suddenly to provide visual aid for an explicit novel felt like too big of a jump for you to comprehend. “Oh… Oh no, no, no. You don’t have to do anything with me.” He said, gesturing wildly when he saw you pointedly stare at his crotch. “You can just pretend that this is the ‘lover.’” He took the pillow from your arms and laid it on the couch. 

You didn’t know if you should have felt relived or disappointed that he wanted you to reenact a sex scene with a pillow and not him. It was all quite a bit to take in, but the desperate pout on his face was something you couldn’t ignore. And both your jobs were on the line. You sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay… But only because we have deadlines coming up.” You said. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” 

Simeon smiled for the first time that day, hurriedly moving back to his computer and preparing to take notes on what you were doing. “I’m ready when you are.” he announced once he opened up a separate document. 

“You sure you don’t want me to just, you know… do you?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you started to undress. It was embarrassing for sure; but part of you relished in seeing Simeon so flustered when it came to the nature of lewd things. You wondered why he had bothered submitting such an outline at all when he wasn’t familiar with how to write erotica; but his determination to branch out to other genres had won you over in the end. It just fell upon your shoulders to show this man how it was done. 

“I… No… I can’t. I need to write.” He stuttered. Do not defile her, do not defile her. Her womb is sacred and not something you can toy with… Even if he wanted the first hand experience, he still had rules to abide by. 

“Alright, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” You shrugged, unbuttoning your blouse. “Don’t forget, part of the sexiness is in the tease.” You explained, taking your time to sway your hips side to side as each button came undone. Trying to seduce a pillow was so much more boring than trying to seduce Simeon. The things I do for this job… 

You made sure to waggle your ass as you peeled off your pants, tossing them to the side along with your blouse. There was something thrilling about being in a room made of glass. Any woodland creature that decided to come visit his garden at that moment would also get an eyeful of your progressively bare body. The rush of having Simeon watch you as you stripped had your heart racing. 

At the very least, you knew your efforts weren’t in vain. You could hear the furious clacking of the keyboard as you gave the pillow in front of you a sultry look. As lame as it all was, it was still rather arousing to know you were being watched by the man who you had crushed on for so long now. “Alright… sir. I’m going to need you to lay down. You have a problem that only I can take care of.” You said to the pillow. You tried hard not to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. It wouldn’t do to break the mood, especially when you could tell Simeon was definitely getting some writing done. 

You got back onto the couch, straddling the pillow between your legs once you were in nothing but your underthings. Licking your lips, you pretended that Simeon was under you and not the decorative cushion. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his lean body under your own, squirming in discomfort as you took control of the scenario. There was just something about how gentle and soft spoken he was that made  your heart flutter with the need to dominate him until he was a flushed, moaning mess. 

Using that fantasy in your mind, you slowly started to gyrate your hips onto the pillow, throwing your head back and moaning. “Oh yes…” You breathed, pleasantly surprised at the stimulation you got from the friction of your panties rubbing against your spread core. You hummed, content with the thought of Simeon holding onto your hips to keep your steady. If he wanted to watch, then you were going to give him the best show available. 

You grasped at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the fabric of your bra until they were sensitive little buds that made you gasp. As you continued to grind against the pillow, you could feel your essence starting to flow, no doubt you were going to leave quite a substantial wet mark on the pillow if you continued. You wanted to pause and warn Simeon of what was about to happen; but when you turned and saw the look of concentration on his face, you didn’t dare break his focus. 

He’ll just have to deal with it later… You figured going back to that happy place in your mind where the writer in front of you was actually under you. Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to hear him moan as you pressed your heat against his cock. Surely he must sound absolutely angelic when he cums. Pushing slipping your hands under your bra, you pushed the fabric away, peeled it off your skin and threw it into a random corner to pick up later. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” You purred, looking down at the cushions below you, wishing you had something sexier to talk dirty to; but you would have to make do with what you had. 

Leaning down, you grabbed a pillow to act as your ‘lovers’ head and started to kiss it. It was so hard to ignore just how disappointing it was to make out with a lump of fabric and not the beautiful man in the corner who was so engrossed with his writing, you might as well have been invisible to him. You could only use your imagination to fantasize about how soft Simeon’s lips must be. He always took such good care of his skin and he had an ethereal glow about him, as if he was blessed by the sun itself. You moaned into the pillow, hating the rough canvas you were pressed up against, but at least your pussy was getting something out of how much you were humping the pillow. 

You came up, gasping for air after having half smothered yourself with a pillow and glanced over at Simeon again. Even as he was furiously typing, you could see that he was at least a little affected by the show you were putting on. Good, I would have hated myself if he’s not even a smidgen turned on by this. You smirked, looking down at your ‘lover’ and pretended to whisper sweet nothings to them before getting off the couch. 

Simeon made a small sound of protest when he saw that you were no longer straddling the pillow, but he quickly shut up when he saw that you were divesting yourself of your panties. “Oh… carry on.” He mumbled, going back to his document, though his eyes continuously flicked up towards you to make sure he was capturing the moment properly. 

Feeling your bare pussy rub against the rough fabric of the pillow sent shivers of pleasure up and down your body and you moaned, riding it harder than before. The stimulation was great, but it wasn’t enough. Really, you wanted to have Simeon buried balls deep in you and not at his computer. However, your priority was your job and that meant sticking to what you had to work with. “Fuck…” You groaned, clenching your inner walls around nothing and wishing that you had at least a toy to fill you up and give you something to ride. 

You ground against the pillow, your essence soaking the fabric and leaving a sizable wet mark, but you didn’t care. It was all the stimulation you could get and you were going to work it for all it was worth. One hand went back up to your breast, rolling your pert nipple between your thumb and forefinger, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure you were giving yourself. “Yeah… you like watching me touch myself, babe?” You asked no one in particular; but truthfully, you hoped Simeon was really enjoying what he saw and heard.. 

His fingers on the keyboard never ceased moving as he vividly described the scene before him. He was so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t even notice himself getting hard. There was too much to write and no time to think about the attention the rest of his body was asking for. He licked his lips, his gaze constantly going back and forth from the document to your body. You were acting out the scene so well, he couldn’t stop writing; he needed to record every detail. You were everything he had imagined his main character to be; effortlessly confident, commanding in the bedroom and dripping with sex appeal. Even if it was a spur of the moment suggestion, he had no regrets considering he was getting so much more writing done in the last half hour than he had in the past two months. 

Your breathing came out in short little pants as you tried to chase a release that just wouldn’t come with so little to work with. You reached between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, groaning loudly as you made love to yourself. You didn’t know how long the scene was supposed to be, but your thighs were getting tired of riding an inanimate object and you just wanted to get off now. 

“Mm fuck.. You feel so good…” You breathed, closing your eyes and imagining Simeon sliding inside of you. The first pass must feel so good. You fantasized about lowering yourself onto his cock slowly letting him savor every inch that entered you. In your head, his bright blue eyes glittered in lust, watching his dick disappear into you until your hips met and he would moan at the feeling of being completely buried in you. “Yeah… just like that…” You moaned, rubbing circles at your clit while your inner walls clenched rhythmically at air. 

You went back to dragging your pussy across the fabric of the pillow smearing your essence all over to get as much out of the scenario as you could. Your fingers rubbed your clit harder, pushing you ever closer and closer to release. “Oh… Oh… I’m so close…” You whined, announcing your climax mere seconds before it happened. The last push you needed was looking over at Simeon and seeing him completely engrossed in what you were doing. His fingers frozen on the keyboard and his comfortable pants with a rather impressive tent in them. 

“Fuck. Simeon.” you cursed, cumming all over the pillow. Your fingers slowed their pace around your clit, rubbing your labia back and forth as you rode out the orgasm. You fell forward onto the pillows beneath you, still slowly humping them while you let the initial high pass and the afterglow set in. It wasn’t until the haze of pleasure passed that you realized you had called his name while getting off on his couch in front of him. 

Simeon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way you called his name. Everything had gone smoothly until you had cried out for him while in the throes of your climax. He had stopped everything he was doing just mere moments before you did that; and now, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to continue with what he was writing. 

For once, he was tempted to throw away whatever celestial blessings he had to take you and be the real reason why you screamed his name. 

Shoving the indecent thoughts to the back of his head, he turned back to his document, writing a sentence and erasing it, repeating the action over and over again while his brain looped the beautiful image of you as you came on his couch. Now, he noticed the tightness in his pants, the obvious boner he sported as a result of such an experiment. But, he couldn’t be mad at it. He had achieved a groove in writing and he was sure he could finish the draft you needed in time.

Simeon let you rest a bit and gather yourself together on the couch. No doubt both of you were aware of the slip, but he could pretend it didn’t affect him as much as it did. Eventually, you had the courage to look back up at him, only to find him busily typing away at his computer. Sighing, and running your hand through your hair amused that he could stay so calm, you got up and started to get dressed. “So, I’m guessing moving somewhere else worked?” you asked, keeping your tone light. 

“Hmm… yes.” He agreed, half paying attention to what you were doing. He couldn’t bear to look at you while you were exposed and waited patiently until you were fully clothed until he made eye contact and spoke to you again. “I definitely got some good notes in. I’ll just need a little more time to flesh out some of the filler scenes and I’ll email you the draft in a couple of days.” 

You let out a laugh, surprised that he was able to focus on work still after what he had just witnessed. He truly was as innocent as he presented himself to be sometimes. “Alright, well. I’ll look forward to reading it.” 

“Will you be back?” he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You were so helpful, I think I might need more help for the rest of the book.” Not, like I want to see something like that again… No, I just need it for research purposes… 

“You know I’ll be back.” You laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “I have to bother you at least once a month to make sure you’re on schedule to finish.” 

Simeon slouched into his chair and let out a soft laugh in relief. “Of course, how could I forget.” In his mind, he was already planning new scenarios for you to play out. There would be much more research to be done, and supplies to be obtained before your next visit. But, all those things could wait. For now, he closed his laptop, noticing how low on battery it had gotten.Time had slipped by him, the sun already well on its way past the horizon. “It’s getting late…” He commented, trying to change the subject to something a little safer than the masturbation session you just had in front of him. 

“Yeah… I’ll get going and let you work in peace.” In a moment of bold recklessness, you stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, babe. Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make me do for you.” you teased, giving him a coy wink before showing yourself out.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Simeon let out a deep sigh, laughing out loud at the predicament he had put himself into. He wanted to quit everything and dissolve into the ground. He wanted to continue writing and see your body writhe in pleasure. He wanted to also defile you and sate himself inside of you. Most of all though, there was a growing darkness within him, one he didn’t even notice just yet; and that part of him craved to see you put in your place to beg for him like the god he knew he was. 

Pushing all his desires down and curbing his lust for the time being, he moved his computer back to his office and let it charge for the rest of the evening. His mind still swirled with the image of your exposed body riding that pillow in the sunroom. The early evening sunset made your body glow with an almost angelic light; and for once, he felt jealous of an inanimate object.

Quietly padding back into the sunroom, he looked at the soiled cushion; feeling a surge of heat rush through him when he saw the wet spot you had left behind. Licking his lips, he approached it like it was a wild animal, tentatively poking at it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to still feel your warmth lingering on the fabric. He could feel shame rising up in him as he laid down on the couch, rested his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of your arousal. 

His hand reached down between his legs, slipping past his pants and to his hard length that needed his attention. Turning his head to smother his moans and to surround himself with your unique smell, he teased and pleased himself, putting himself in the scenario you had played out just mere moments ago. 

“Oh… oh fuck…” He groaned surprised at how little effort it took to make him cum and ruin his pants to the thought of you bouncing on his cock and calling his name. He was quickly falling down the deep end of temptation and he could feel the darkness of sin encroaching. 

The scariest part was the fact that he didn’t care at all. 

[thefluffzone]

Where the Ocean meets the Forest, Chap 4

First of all, I am SO sorry I kept you waiting that long! Since I crosspost on Ao3 and actually planned the post here at the same time I have NOT seen that it actually didnt post here. I am SO SO sorry!

fem!Reader / m!Eivor

Chapter 3 (and the other chapters linked there)

Music Tipp: Wardruna - Kvitravn

A few days after the feast, Sigurd took some men and Basim to travel to the Ragnarssons. But before he left, he told Dag to follow Eivors orders – much to the dismay of the subordinate. Then, he ordered Eivor to gather allies and ressources for the village before following him. The first house to be built should be the forge. All settlers were at the docks to send the Jarl off and after the people scattered, you saw Eivor rushing away for his own preparations. At first, you wanted to go after him to tell him your good wishes for the passing, but somehow you had the feeling that it would not be necessary.

And your feelings were right: you were currently trying to bribe the raven couple in the tree next to the longhouse when you heard a quiet whistle. When you turned your back you saw the blond man grinning at you and your heart jumped. First you laid a finger on your lips to show him to keep silent and then you waved him closer. „They start to trust me and I know that she will lay eggs soon.“, you explained very quietly and threw some nuts to the ground a few steps before the birds. They stared at the both of you very curiously. „You will leave today as well, right?“, you asked him. He stepped a bit closer and embraced your shoulder with one arm. „Yes, but I will not be far.“, he whispered to not startle the ravens. „Close to us is a village whose Jarlskona seems to need some help. I will go and hope she will be helping us in return if we need reinforcements one day. But before, I will take the men to raid some of their monasteries. We need to build Gunnars forge as soon as possible so he can aid the settlement with tools and weapons. After all that, we will come back for a short while and then I will take the men to meet with my brother.“ You nodded „When you come back from the christian temples, can you bring me something?“, you asked out of nothing. He lifted one eyebow. „Of course, my dear. What is it?“

You slowly backed away from the birds and he joined you. Then you grinned at him. „Nothing much, but I guess those.. monk people have chickens. I need eggs because ravens love them. But only if you find any. I mean.. It is probably uncommon to ask a Drengr for chicken eggs.“, you stuttered. For a second, he just watched you, then he chuckled. „I expected a nice necklace or any other jewelry, so I think chicken eggs are not much of a problem.“ He eyed you while you laughed. Something in him wanted to kiss you right here and there! But the thought did not feel right. Not yet. Eivor still was not able to take his glance away from your lips until he realised that the lovely tone of your laugh had stopped. You watched him now too. „Eivor..?“, you asked softly. „What is the matter?“ Your heart thumped at his intense stare. Then he realised his behaviour, cleared his voice and said: „I have to go now, my men are waiting.“ You nodded. „Take care and make the gods proud.“, was your answer. He took your hand and squeezed it. Then he bent down to you to kiss your cheek, smiled one last time and left to his ship.

Days after days came and went and you did your best to help Randvi and everyone who needed a helping hand. One day, you just stacked firewood on the side of the longhouse with some of the children, a horn was blown on the river.Randvi left the house so quickly, it seemed like she just materialised beside your little helpers. „That is Dags horn.“, she told you with a big grin. „Come with me, Sif, let us welcome our raiders.“

You went with her, but at the docks was no sight of Eivor, only his men were there to gather goods from the ship. Randvi watched your face become sad then she pated you on the back and went to talk with Dag. Yu wanted to turn back again to the house, then Bragi called out to you, then he rushed to you with a tiny wooden box. „Eivor told us to bring the goods from the first raids back while he gathers allies.“, the Skald explained. „So the forge can be built as soon as possible. He told me, this box here is for you and only you. What did you ask for?“ You opened the box and laughed out loud. Eggs! Bragi stared into the box, then to you, like he would ask for an explanation. „It is good for the birds, Bragi. With those, I hope I can give you warriors your messengers sooner.“, you answered to his unspoken question. He nodded. „Then I will help Eivor to bring you more.“, the man stated and went back to the ship.

The work went on after that visit and thanks to Eivor, you were able to tame the raven couple fully, even with not having that much time because you helped Gunnar often. You managed to convince them to nest in a cage you built on the side of the longhouse and you let the door of the cage open. You even slept beside the cage so they would not fear you nor other humans.

And that is how Eivor found you some days later. He returned right after sunrise, only Randvi and Gunnar were awake and talking in front of the new house. He greeted both of them, updated Randvi about their new ally and then he came looking for you. When he saw you from afar, sitting beside the cage asleep and protected by a thin blanket, he smiled. He went inside the house to get a plate full of fruit and bread and a pint of water, then he approached you slowly. Not slowly enough – one of the ravens croaked and you opened your eyes.

He smiled when he saw you with your sleepy glance. You had some moments before you realised who stood in front of you. „Eivor!“, you exclaimed and stood up as fast as possible. „Since when are you back?“ You hugged him so tightly he nearly lost the items on the platter. But he continued to laugh and urged you to sit to the next table. „Sit, my dear. And eat. Randvi told me you are with your ravens day and night, you need nutrients.“ He placed pint and platter in front of you and sat beside you. „I would say I am here for around half an hour and already met Gunnar and Randvi. Gunnars house looks good! But did Bragi bring the box?“ You nodded and tried to speak with a full mouth – again to your dismay and Eivors fun. He laid his hand on yur shoulder. „Eat, please without scattering it on the table my dear. I will be right back if you allow it, but I have to go and wash.“ He winked. „Or else I will scare away your birds, reeking of blood, sweat and grime.“ He laughed out loud as you blushed, because he used the same words you did when you teased him during the feast. He went back into the house and you finished eating, then yu saw him coming back out again. Minus his armor he had some items with him and you were able to watch him discarding his tunic by the fountain. Fully aware of your staring, he washed his upper body and hair, combed the latter and the beard and finally redid his braids while humming a song. You could simply not tear your eyes away from him.

You damned Freya for giving you those thoughts.

[toorusluvr]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ CALIFORNIA: IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

characters: iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

cw:  car sex, unprotected sex (please use protection if you hate kids), iwaizumi has a praising kink! mutual pining lol. if there's more let me know.

wc: 3k

crossposted on my ao3 🤍

The gush of the sudden heatwave was unbearable, you must admit. Stepping foot in California, a foreign country with no one to pick you up at the airport, felt awkward and scary at the same time. Your only goal was to visit your best friend, Iwaizumi, at the college he was studying at. Your plan was to give him a call once you arrived at the destination soon.

Taking a cab from the airport, the beach view came into your sight. The way your eyes shimmered at the beautiful view of people surfing and enjoying themselves at the beach was enough to tell that you actually had a great start being here. Iwa must have had an enjoyable time being here.. Is he homesick? It suddenly popped into your mind. He must be having a great time being in California. The weather’s great, and the scenery is pleasant.

The cab driver helped you with your luggage, though it wasn’t as handful as the other tourists, you still need help getting your big luggage out from the trunk. You heaved a deep sigh, breathless after dragging your luggage onto the concrete pathway. Without stalling your time, you searched for your phone in the pocket of your pants. Scrolling through your contacts, you finally found his contact number.

Within the first three rings, he picked up your call. His raspy voice greeting you the first thing. You heard he cleared his throat. “Hey, why are you calling me? Isn’t it like 11 in the morning there? Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, considering your fucked up sleeping schedule?” a laughter was followed after he nagged you.

You laughed, entertained by his own way of making fun of you. “If I was in Tokyo, then the answer is yes. But I am not in Tokyo, to be frankly speaking!” you were hoping he would catch on to what you were saying. Your presence here was to surprise him, after all!

Iwaizumi had just finished training at the local gym. He wiped the beads of sweats forming on his forehead with the towel hanging around his neck. He glanced over the clock on the wall, 6:15 p.m. Don’t tell me that you are here? he thought. “What are you on, Y/N? Are you talking in your sleep right now?”

This guy, you grunted softly. He caught on but he was afraid if his instinct was not telling him the right thing. “What a dumbass. I’m here in California, you idiot. Come and pick me up at your college! I don’t know your home address for God’s sake!” you burst out. The heat was killing you and please God, can he be quick to pick you up?

He deadass laughed at you. “Are you for real? Oh my goodness! Aight, just give me 10 minutes! I just finished working out. Stay where you are, I am coming to get you!” Iwaizumi rushed to take a quick shower in the shower room. He has to look and smell nice before meeting you. Of course, he would.

“Make it 5, Hajime. I swear to God!” you said, lowkey threatening him. You looked like you were stranded in front of his college with your luggage beside you. Standing awkwardly while the passersby looking at you up and down with a questionable look on their faces.

His sinister laughter made you unknowingly clenched your thighs together. “I swear I’ll be quick. Just stay where you are! Don’t follow any strangers!”

Being the petty friend you are, you counted how long it took for Iwaizumi Hajime to come and get you. He took exactly 7 minutes and 39 seconds to come to your rescue. The matte black range rover parked in front you. Iwaizumi got out of the driver’s seat hurriedly. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were coming, dumbass?” he ruffled your hair. Trying to look good for him ended up being ruined by the person himself.

You rolled your eyes, “Obviously, it’s a surprise visit! Can’t you tell them apart or what?” you laughed, unable to hold your laughter any longer. “Nice car, by the way!”

“It's not mine. I had to borrow it from a friend to pick you up” Iwaizumi told, taking in your luggage into the trunk. He opened the passenger’s seat door for you -- his hand rested on the windshield, ensuring your head to be safe. You mumbled a soft thank you before he got to the driver’s seat.

“Where are you staying, by the way? It's dangerous to be out there all alone. Or, aren’t you afraid?” he asked, his right hand turning the steering wheel to drive out of his campus area.

You hummed, “There's a hotel nearby here I booked. But, if you wanted to pay the expenses for me, it’d be nice!”

Both of you burst into laughter, knowing too well both of you are joking around and no hard feelings involved! “Since you are here, let’s go to In-N-Out that you’ve always talked about” Iwaizumi suggested, his eyes glanced over you in the passenger’s seat. You looked excited to try out the fast food franchise you’ve been wanting to try.

It felt like old times, hanging out with your best friend even in a foreign country feels exactly the same. The skies were getting darker as time passed by. About half before 9, both of you headed to his friend’s car. Iwaizumi needed to send you off before midnight. It's unsafe for you to be alone, especially at this hour.

Sitting in the expensive car, both of you enjoyed talking about anything and everything. Time doesn’t seem to be passing by when both of you are together. How badly Iwaizumi wants you to be there for him every single day. He hesitated to ask you, but it’s now or never, Hajime.

“Uh, why did you come to visit me? Why not Oikawa?” he laughed, an uneasy feeling creeped into his heart. Did he make a mistake? He was just asking a question. There's no way you’ll be offended, right?

Shrugging off your nervousness, you covered it up with a lie. “Apparently, California is much cheaper than Argentina. So, I decided to visit you first before meeting Oikawa. Sounds like a genius idea, no?”

Great, now you looked like a pathetic liar. That doesn’t fascinate him, not even a bit. “Oh- that sounds like a great plan, by the way” he laughed. “You know, I am honored to be the first friend you visited!”

You smiled, trying to think of a sentence to reply. “Yeah, you should be.” Fidgeting with your fingers only made you look like a liar. You turned to look at him, both of you fell into an awkward somehow comfortable silence.

“I think I have fallen in love with you” Iwaizumi confessed. He paused for a moment, “No. Actually, I am in love with you.” He looked serious, yes he was. He had been waiting for this moment to come and it’s finally time to confess. It's about time to tell you the truth.

“Wh-what? Are you kidding or what?” you chuckled nervously. Between him and you, you’ve always thought it’ll be you who make the first move but your assumption was wrong.

“No, I am not kidding” he looked at you straight in the eyes.

Your fingers brushed over your face which is now slightly warmer than usual. You disclosed the gap between both of you, “What if I tell you I am in love with you too?”

Iwaizumi's lips formed into a smile. He didn’t know how to put his thoughts into words, but he was thankful for your presence. Closing the gap between both of you, he moved his hand to your face. His palm cupping your face and pressed his lips on your lips with a tender kiss. “Is this fine?”

With your eyes closed, you nodded confidently. You have always loved how considerate Iwaizumi is with others. “Yes, please.”

Both of you kissed for the first time ever. There was a taste of love instead of lust from two individuals who are looking for home in the right person. Brushing your lips with his thumb, he looked at you once again. “Do you want this? Are we taking things too fast?”

You chuckled softly, “It’s fine, Hajime. It's not like we don’t want this in the first place.” Your eyes looking into his green eyes, before a smile appeared on his face. He nodded, agreeing with what you said.

“Let’s get to the backseat” he whispered, nibbling on the sensitive spot under your ear while his hands caressing both sides of your face. You climbed to the backseat, adrenaline pumping in your system. Iwaizumi gently laid you on the leather seat, spreading your legs so he could be in between your legs.

He easily removed your thin top, unzipping your pants that it slid over your legs so easily. The sudden cold of the night sent shivers down to your spine. “Are you sure you’re fine with this?” he interrupted your thoughts. You held his face in your hands, “I will never regret this moment, Hajime. Trust me.”

You have convinced him to not hold himself back. He nibbled on your sensitive spot over and over again, leaving deep purple hickeys all over your beautiful neck. Clinging your legs onto his waist, you arched lewdly to his touch while your tongues clashing with each other.

Iwaizumi placed his hands on your bare thighs, brushing his fingers over your inner thighs crucially slow. You whimpered softly, your body kept on asking for him to give you more. Everything he has to offer. “Hajime, please. I need you” you begged. “Don’t hold yourself back, because I am not going to.”

Oh, how sweet you looked being under him with your glossy eyes, begging him for more. He would wreck you if it wasn’t for this cramped place. Pulling his shirt off of his toned body, he let you enjoyed seeing his defined abs and chest. “I guess I need to teach my princess one or two things about love, hm?”

You nodded your head, your voice caught up in your throat, unable to speak proper sentences. “Don’t worry, I’ll take a really good care of you. Because I love you” he whispered in your ears.

You tugged on the waistband of his briefs, the tent forming in his boxer couldn’t hide the size of his cock. You gulped, he is unlike the other guys you have dated. He is sweet and loving, sometimes aggressive. Is he aggressive while being intimate too? You wondered.

From the way he parted your legs apart, you knew he’s real good at this. Iwaizumi dragged his two digits on your slick folds, “You’re already wet, baby” he laughed. He looked at you and gave you an assuring smile before he ate you out like a starved man. His tongue laid flatly on your dripping pussy.

His licks made your back arched lewdly to his touch. Iwaizumi never thought the day he'd be making love with his own best friend has finally come. He's in love with you ever since you guys were in first year of high school. The years of mutual pining only made him crave your love even more.

“You’re doing so good for me” he said, smirking at you in a glance. Your fingers intertwined in his spiky black hair while he praised you endlessly. “You’re eager for me, aren’t you baby?” his raspy voice vibrated against your wet cunt.

“Please, Hajime” you whimpered. “I-i want you to fuck me, please.”

“Since you are doing so good for me, I guess I have to give my princess my cock, hm?” With a harsh thrust, a loud gasp filled the car. He gasped when your tight walls swallowed his cock. Using his thumb, he played with your clit as he rocked his hips slowly to build his pace.

You have never heard yourself let out a sinful moan like you did just now. You immediately threw your hand over your mouth to cover your moans. Your eyes rolled back when he pressed his thumb on your clit.

“No, baby let me hear you” Iwaizumi yanked your hand away. “I want to hear you screaming my name, because I am the only one who can make you feel good from now on, hm?” he grunted as he slammed his hips into you.

Your tears formed in your eyes, wrapping around his neck while kissing him deeply. He toyed with your clit while kissing you passionately, hips rocking slowly into you. “Ah- Hajime” you moaned in his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful” he grunted softly. "You’re doing so fucking good for me, princess. Taking my cock so well like this hm? Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nodded eagerly, “Pl-please. Make me cum, Hajime- ah!” your legs wrapped tightly around his waist when you felt your orgasm building up in your stomach. Iwaizumi bit his lips, continuing to grind against your g-spot as he eyed your fucked out face with your eyes rolled back and a single tear dropped down as you begged him to go harder.

“Fuck, you feel so- ah- good, Hajime” you cried out. “Please please please, I am so near!”

With the angle he's in right now, he managed to make you moan as if no one was there to hear. Iwaizumi was big, the tip of his cock bumping your cervix in every thrust, making your legs shaking badly and your lips quivering with pleasure and cries. It felt so fucking good, no one has ever fucked you this good. All the boys you dated were useless, never once making you cum.

Your cunt clenched tightly around his cock, telling him that you’re near. “Baby, come on cum for me” he dragged two of his fingers on your clit, flicking on it as he waited for your orgasm to break.

“Y-yes there! H-hajime, it feels so good!” you moaned, mixed with cries of pleasure. Your nails digging into his back muscle, leaving scratches all over his back.

“Here? Like this, baby?” he hummed through his teeth, flicking your clit over and over again until it made your whole body trembled. “Do you like that, hm?”

You nodded eagerly, words have flown out of your mind. Nothing can ever compare to his cock and the size of his fingers that could easily make you cum. Your throat felt dry from all the moaning and cries. You came around his cock, your cum dripping on his length.

“I need you to cum one more time, okay baby? You’re doing so good for me” iwaizumi caressed your hair gently. He placed a chaste kiss on your lips. You nodded, following his orders. He changed the angle of his thrust, pistoning his cock faster than he did before. His calloused hands playing with your hardened buds before taking one of them in his mouth and started sucking on it.

“Come on, baby” he grunted, biting his lips from cumming before you.

“I- I'm gonna- fuck!” you sobbed, it felt different than your first orgasm. Your legs trembled, “H-hajime please.”

“That's it, baby. Fuck, I'm cumming” he gritted through his teeth. “We can’t make a mess in here” he grunted softly. He looked at his cock being swallowed by your gummy walls. The mess that you made around his cock excited him.

“Fuck, just cum inside me, oh- shit” you sobbed, gripping onto his biceps as you came down from your high.

"Are you sure? Oh- fuuuck” you nodded, panting for air as he spilled his seed inside you with a deep grunt.

He laid on top of you for a moment, trying to catch his breath after spurting his thick cum inside of you. Iwaizumi kissed you on your forehead, “Let's stay like this for a moment. Can't afford messing up my friend’s seat, can’t we?” he laughed.

You chuckled, nodding your head. “Right. I have a tissue, Hajime. Don't you worry. But it’s in my luggage in the trunk.”

Iwaizumi giggled, sealing his lips with you sweetly while he tucked your hair behind your ear. “You did so good for me” he whispered in between the kisses. You giggled, “Yeah, as if we didn’t have sex in your friend’s backseat.”

He laughed, “He would have understand, right? Come on, let’s send you to your hotel it’s getting late.”

"Fuck, Y/N. I love you so much" he kissed you lovingly. You looked into his eyes trying to catch your breath. "I love you too, Hajime. Always have been."

[kashimos-hajime]

twenty questions (7/8) | r.b.

summary: No, he refuses to lose someone else. Not again, not you. Never fucking you. Or, after four years, Reiner meets you once more.

WARNINGS: angst, just conversation, a bit of violence, mentions of trauma, children ummmmm yeee, jean also appears <3 true king pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 8.3k

a/n: reiner returns!! welcome to the penultimate chapter and thank you for being on this journey with me :) again, song is not mine! it’s the wellerman sea shanty hehe

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Morning streams through the curtains.

You part the billowy white fabric, pushing open the window breathing in the late morning air. As always, it’s warm and ripe with the aroma of the fresh bread from the bakery you live above, and as you lean on the windowsill, you hear the door below you chiming with new patrons. You smile to yourself, resting your chin on your hand.

Even still, you can’t help but admire how beautiful it is, especially in the streets here, far away from a industrial zone. The Liberio interment zone is small, yes, but it’s no less beautiful. The architecture of brick and glass all hold an austere beauty, and when the sunset is upon you, the shadows they cast and the warmth that embraces the stone is something you’ve never quite seen before. There’s a church, and you’ve sat inside day a few days before, watching the light stream through the stained glass in amazement.

A knock at the door takes you from your thoughts and you let out a sharp noise of surprise, gaze ripping away from the busy streets. A tremor shoots through you and you swallow harshly, waiting in bated breath.

“The shop’s busy as bees, today!” your landlord admonishes on the other side. You let out a relieved sigh, relaxing a bit. “If you want, I can still save you a loaf!”

“No, thank you!” you shout over your shoulder, reaching to close the window and get ready for the day. Sliding a warm vest onto your shoulders, you adjust the hat on your head and grab your bag from the counter, your bare fingers a bit cold and numb.

You burn at the thought of Reiner. You don’t want to see him, even if you live in the same city now, but all the same, it’s hard to avoid him. After all, it’ll only be so long before you’re forced to confront your past, push yourself into his way because how long, really, can you stay away from him? As you slide the white armband onto your bicep, your heart tightens. You’ve seen the man he’s grown into—handsome, tired, lonely. That only reflects in you.

Pulling your arms through your jacket, you stare at the woodgrain beneath your feet emptily.

Why am I even here? 

Coming to Marley, of all places. Some days, you can’t wrap your head around it, before you’re reminded of the reason. It all has a purpose. You just have to keep going—keep moving forward.

Continuing through your loft, you shove your feet into boots and head out for the day. The festival’s tonight—you have lots to do before then.

.

Night slips in.

Reiner frowns when he realizes he’s walking back to the stage. He’s been trailing after the sound for a good half-hour, but considering they stay relatively nearby his final destination, he’s never felt the urge to detract. 

He still can’t place the tune that’s been hummed, whistled, sang gently and leading him on, and as the sky darkens and the crowd noise grows louder, he realizes that his trail is slowly growing colder and colder.

“Hey, Reiner!” His head swivels to find Gabi waving at him and he meanders over, frowning a bit. “Where’d you go? The others said you wandered off.”

“I took a walk to clear my head,” he says dismissively, ignoring her frown deepening. “I see you’ve recovered from your food coma.” Immediately, Gabi’s frown turns into a pout and she rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine.” He snorts, turning to survey the area. The others are milling about. Zeke and Colt are talking by the bench, and Pieck and Porco are off together, as usual. They’re not half as inconspicuous as they think they are. Finding Udo and Zofia, his brow wrinkles when he can’t catch sight of a certain blond boy. 

“Where’s Falco?”

“He ran off earlier, saying he saw someone he knew,” Gabi says, waving it away. “He’s always being so weird. Who else could he know besides us?”

“What, are you jealous?” he teases, ruffling Gabi’s hair and she lets out a squawk, smacking at his hand. Chuckling gently, he surveys the area again as they walk towards their seats. Zeke and Colt give him a nod in greeting, one he returns. 

“Why would I be jealous?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” he replies distantly. His eyes keep searching, a ticklish feeling at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it or if he can really hear that tune still at the edge of his hearing, nagging for his attention. Sighing, he crosses his arms over his chest. “What Falco does during his free time isn’t on your need-to-know basis, Gabi.”

“I know. I’m just saying—he doesn’t even have any friends besides us,” she says pointedly just as someone calls his name.

“Mister Braun!” Falco skids to a stop in front of him, his forehead gleaming with sweat, even in the cooler night air. Panting, he leans forward on his knees, meeting Reiner’s eyes, and Gabi tilts her head, confused and agitated and betraying her previous aloof words.

“Where the hell did you go?”

Ignoring her, Falco continues to try and catch his breath, barely punching out, “Can you come with me?” before looking down at the floor again, his shoulders rising and falling so quickly Reiner almost feels bad for him.

He frowns. “Right now?”

“You’ll be fine,” Zeke assures. The two look at the older man who glances at his watch. “It shouldn’t start for a few more minutes.”

Reiner debates it for a moment. Then again, it’s not like he’s the number one fan of this show. His presence is for appearance’s sake at this point, and if Falco insists, then it must be something important. Sighing, he nods and Falco takes off again. Telling Gabi to explain his absence to his mom should he not return in time, he walks after the sprinting boy, his mind a whirlwind on the possibilites of why he’s in such a hurry.

Falco stops past a blue curtain that’s near a residential building and points at the arch, smiling. His entire face is flushed and Reiner cocks an eyebrow, approaching closer before hearing a soft voice singing. It only grows as he passes by the blue partition, and his heart picks up as his eyes widen.

“…The Captain's mind was not on greed… But he belonged to the whaleman's creed… She took that ship in tow… Soon may the Wellerman come to bring us sugar and tea and rum. One day, when the tonguin' is done, we’ll take our leave and go…”

He knows that tune. The sailors sang it in the port city after Fort Slava. It’s one of their sea shanties—it’s rare to hear them anywhere except by the water, and when he reaches Falco, searching for that voice, his eyes fix on a figure leaning against the archway underneath the building.

The woman in purple.

Falco runs up to her. A hand is on her bicep when she shifts to look at the boy, and Reiner’s throat swells as his legs move on their own accord. Time seems to slow as Falco turns around, mouth open in words that go in through one ear, and out the other. 

The woman says something, and Falco twists back, frowning a bit, but she only nods encouragingly, and off he goes, running on ahead, down to the end of the pathway out of Reiner’s sight.

A strangled noise leaves his mouth as the blond slips from his view.

The woman in purple’s head snaps up at the sound, and Reiner’s entire body locks when he finally recognizes the face that searches his impassively. The white armband is covered still by her fingers, but when she pushes off the wall, it’s almost as if she bewitches him to come even closer.

And he does, his hand lifting up to reach for her. Reach for what has to be a ghost. No…

No, it can’t be. No. No, I’m seeing things, I am, I—

You lift your hand off your armband, and when his fingers meet your palm, he feels your warmth, the way your skin slides against his as he interlaces their fingers, and he chokes, entire body burning from the inside out as you fold your fingers over his palm, yank him into the shadow with enough force to unbalance him. You side-step and fling his hand off, let him crash to his hands and knees. Pain shoots up his joints and his eyes widen when he realizes his skin has scraped off on the stone.

“Hello, Reiner,” you murmur. He draws himself up, and there’s a strange lifelessness as he looks up to a face barely illuminated by light. You unbutton your jacket and crouch before him, arms on your knees. His skin steams and stitches itself back together and he swallows through a dry throat as your eyes flutter to the white wisps. There’s a raw damage lingering on your face, haunting like ghosts that should be long dead, before you blink.

Your long coat brushing the floor covers black armour, harnesses criss-crossing your legs and body. Your expression is severe, lips pressed in an impassive line, dark shadows under your eyes. The armband around your bicep is slathered in dark red, staining the symbol.

So that’s what you were hiding from Falco.

Reiner half-wonders who’s blood it is. If it’s the owner of the clothes you wear, or someone else’s entirely.

You lift your head, staring at Reiner properly for the first time in years. Clenching your jaw, you only look. You do not speak, you do not move. It’s terrifying. It reminds Reiner eerily of Captain Levi, with the same chillingly placidity, and he remembers how you used to smile so wide you’d complain your cheeks ached, how you would lean against him, clutching your gut ‘cause he made you laugh, and he had never heard a sound so perfect—

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “What are you doing here? Are you insane?” 

You barely move. Only tilt your head mockingly. “Probably.” 

Four years has changed you into a taller, leaner, stronger soldier—and he can only soak that in. You’re…

His breath catches in his throat. 

You’re beautiful.

But you’re crouching right in front of him, and you’re in danger. If Marleyans were to approach now, he’s not sure if he could lie his way out and that blood. How can he explain the blood on your sleeve?

You’d be left for dead, hanged for the crows. 

The image flashes through his mind like cold dread, a trickling drip of an icicle hanging in his mind and freezing his spine.

No, he refuses to lose someone else. Not again, not you. Never fucking you.

It is why he demands again through a hissed breath,“What are you doing here?” Why he stands up quick enough that their heads nearly collide, and you straighten up as well, smoothly running your hands over your coat.

You only look at him deftly as if he is as inconsequential to you as a roach. You don’t even twitch as his hand reaches forward, fighting through the searing ache in his chest. “You need to leave. You shouldn’t be here. I can smuggle you back to the port and take you home, I—.”

Your stare paralyzes him and his hand falters. “I don’t take orders from you. You are not my commanding officer, and I do not need you to tell me what I need.” Your fingers dig into the bloody armband at your bicep and Reiner’s eyes widen as you tear it off, planting it on his chest hard enough his lungs spasm and he lets out a sharp breath. Your fingers spread out over his chest, you step closer. “I don’t need you to save me. Not from Marley. Not from myself. And not from you.”

His hand comes to cover yours, but you slip out before he can touch you, and he’s left with an armband in his palm. Clutching it in a tight fist, he stares down at it for a moment before shoving it in his pocket and turning around.

Your name comes out of him without even thinking as you walk past him, and it must still hold something because you pause, head turning slightly to look at him. “I want to explain myself,” he chokes out, and the corner of your mouth curls into a hollow smile. “Please.”

“Follow me, Reiner,” you order softly, and without question, he falls half a step behind you, eyes trained on the ground. His head is swimming at your presence, and his knees are gummy, stomach convulsing as he tries to come up with what to say. Or maybe, what to say first. He’s had four years to come up with a proper way to say it, and he reaches for his breast pocket, where the letters he’s folded away rest, with shaking hands.

“Please…”

“I don’t know what you think begging will get you.” Something stony falls upon your face. “I’ve had four years to get over the fact that you used me. Now, I think I just don’t care anymore. I’m sure you have your reasons, but I don’t know if it’ll be the truth. You’ve had no problem lying to me before in the past.”

“That’s not true.” He doesn’t know to which part of what you said he means. The last part, every part. “I never lied about how I felt about you.”

“Right. Like I wasn’t just some pawn on your chessboard. Some lonely girl you could use to entertain yourself.” Your pace doesn’t slow, but your tone is laced with anguish you try so hard to cover. “At least Bertholdt had the courage to look me in the face and tell me he was going to kill me.” You stop by a crate, labelled as supplies for the play. Maybe they contain masks, or costumes, and Reiner stops, his shoes skidding against the stone as you reach into your coat.

Pulling out a knife, you wedge it into the crate and pry the lid off and Reiner’s entire body numbs when ODM gear gleams in the straw. It looks refashioned, sleeker, and in two parts, and he catches your hand reaching for the harness. 

Weapons, here.

You aren’t stupid enough to take on Marley on your own, which can only mean—

Shit, shit, shit. 

Dread trickles through his body.

“What are you two doing—Oh, Vice Chief Braun!” You slam the lid shut and press your left arm flush against Reiner’s body, covering it up as someone on their right approaches. Your hand tightens around the knife still wedged between the lid, and Reiner sets a hand on your shoulder, dragging you so he can cover you up better and as a warning.

Don’t do it. You’re stiff against him despite the easy expression on your face, and he sets a harsh glare on the intruder. Let go of that blade. Your entire body is rigid with a hot energy he doesn’t recognize as your fingers only tighten around the hilt. Don’t do it—

“Sorry to interrupt, but those are one of the crates we need for the play. It contains some costumes—“

 The performer looks stricken as you flash him an easy smile and Reiner’s blood freezes when the stranger seems to blush, voice fading.

“I actually work with Lord Tybur,” you explain easily with a tiny laugh, betraying the strength in your fist. “He wants to inspect it briefly before I return it. I think it contains the Helos costume? Gotta make sure every detail’s to his liking!” Your tone, innocent and cheery, floats through the distant sound of the crowd, and Reiner only stares at the performer who seems to shrink in his skin. Your fingers twitch when he hesitates.

“Oh, of course.” He scratches the back of his head, and you give him a gracious nod before he’s walking away.

You watch him go, and Reiner feels the way the air shifts when your smile fades away as soon as it came. You step away from him, loosening the knife from the crate. His hands burn as he reaches for your shoulder again, but you jerk back.

“You know,” you begin quietly, staring at the lid, “all this time, I thought I had actually found people again, you know. I thought you actually cared about me, but really, I realized all you’ve ever done is lie. Even after everything. Even after Marco died, and I told you how I felt about you, you just kept lying. Lying and painting yourself to be a knight in shining armour.”

“I tried—I tried to stop myself from caring about you,” he whispers raggedly, hands rolling into fists tight enough that his nails dig into his flesh, “but it happened anyway. That part of who I was was never a lie.”

“So you never saw me as someone you needed to protect? As this poor, lonely girl who loved you? Who fed your ego and—”

“Of course I wanted to protect you! I loved you, too!” he snaps and distantly, he recognizes this is the first time they’ve ever confessed that what they had… that it was somehow real and too good for him. It nearly makes him shatter. “How could I—“ He closes his eyes, teeth gritting as the flames inside him roar, consuming his heart. “How could I just stand back and watch you get hurt by the consequences of my actions? It’s because of me you were forced to leave the farm, leave that girl. Because of me you knew Marco and Mina and Thomas. You could have been so much happier if you never met any of us—I knew that—I just thought I could somehow—”

“Happier if I never met you,” you echo blankly before nodding to yourself. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds about right.” He flinches but you continue on, “In the end, it doesn’t matter, though. I’ve learned to not let the what ifs haunt me, because my time with you… it still means everything to me.” You shake your head. “That’s the truth. You dropped a building on me and broke my bones. Truth. You left me alone in those walls with Bertholdt dead and Annie comatose, and you did so knowing you are the last damn person I’ve got that I’d kill for. Truth.”

Reiner’s eyes widen as your words sink into his skin like a vicious poison.

So that’s it then. Bertholdt is dead and Annie… Annie’s still alive?

You don’t give him a moment’s breath to ask as you take a step forward. On reflex, he steps back, hands raising, and your eyes flash to his palms. One wrong move, and a Titan will overtake the square. He’s sure he can read the thought in your eyes, but when you look at him again, he only sees cold indifference.

“You nearly killed me, Reiner. So tell me…”

Metal flashes and a breath stalls in his throat as a cold knifepoint digs into the bump along his throat. It bobs when he swallows, lips parted, and you meet his eyes, every inch of agony he’s forced upon you glaring back at him reforged.

“Why shouldn’t I repay the favour?”

His breath stalls, and he looks down at your fingers, wrapped tight around the hilt, nearly shaking. He doesn’t know if it’s because you hold the weapon that tightly, or if you’re just as afraid as he is.

Either way, it doesn’t matter.

“Do it, then,” he whispers. “I’m the reason this all happened.”

Your eyes, wide, search his beseechingly and his heart crumbles to dust. Even after all this time, you still hesitate. Why? Because you think he’ll come back? That he’s… redeemable somehow? 

Reiner envies that—he wants to believe that there is still good. But there isn’t. He knows it.

“I have a thousand questions,” you murmur achingly, as if the words are wrenched from your throat. “Over the years, I’ve tried to come up with some incomprehensible list. I couldn’t decide which was the one I wanted answered the most, but I thought why did it matter? After all, it wasn’t like I’d ever see you again. But here I am, now.”

As you lower the knife, the tip of the blade scratches his skin, light enough only to leave a white trail until it falls away, just like when he held you at blade-point four years ago, the tip of a sword digging into your sternum. 

How poetic that he finds himself here, his life in your hands. This is your retribution, he supposes, and your mercy, fighting for control of your arm, but you sheathe your knife again with a sharp, smooth thrust at your hip. There’s a soft scrape before you set your hands atop the lid, sighing softly.

A terrifying glint lives in your eyes as you smile at him faintly, and hoist the crate into your arms. 

“So, Reiner.” You tilt your head, gesturing for him to follow you down the pathway to a set of stairs that must lead to a deeper cellar. Somewhere he can’t transform in. Smart. You always were, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’d never hurt you again, especially when he’s already done so much to prove that his words are empty. Yet, nothing is more important than protecting you, and Gabi, and Falco, but— “What do you say to a game of twenty questions?”

.

You flip a page. The day’s labour has you sweating into your harness, but all you want to do is just finish this damn chapter. Pulling carts out of mud like a damn mule wasn’t fun, but at least it had you busy. But, God, did you just want to relax for an eternity now.

Even after four years, you’d think your body would grow accustom, but every day, something new tests you.

“Hello?” a voice by your door calls and you look up from your book, smiling automatically at the kid peering into your room. He’s one of the younger orphans who didn’t come from the immediate wreckage of the fall of Trost but rather just a few months ago, you had found him in the woods, walking away from one of the smaller settlements.

You don’t ask, let him come and tell you more, and although you know his name, you know it’s hard for him to talk about anything else.

What you do know is that he is one that still climbs into your bed when there’s a thunderstorm, and that he’s a sweet, yet studious child with a knack for trouble when the girls invite him to hang out with them. 

That doesn’t mean he’s any less attached. He’s probably the one who clings to you the most, and you get up, closing your book. Setting it down on the nightstand, you crouch in front of him and pat his head. 

“Hi,” he says again.

“What’s going on, Xavier?” His red hair is still damp. He must’ve just taken his bath and he shrinks under your hand, probably to protect the clean smell clinging to his skin and locks. Lifting your hand amusedly, you tap his nose. He breaks out into a gap smile. 

He lost his tooth just three days ago, and you remember how proud he was, bursting into the fields during study period to show you as you untied the horses from the plow.

“There’s a man who wants to see you.”

“A man?” You frown, looking over his shoulder. Placing a heavy hand on his shoulder, you pull him into your room, out of the way of the door. “Did he say what his name was? Or if he was military?” The kids know the military insignias. Praying silently to yourself, you glance uneasily at your nightstand where a gun is hidden in the drawer. You could probably arm yourself in time. Xavier tugs at your ear. You look back at him, eyebrows creasing as you glance over his shoulder. 

“He said his name was Jean and that you would know who he was. He’s waiting outside.”

“Jean?” you repeat sharply, standing. Xavier flinches, looking up at you, and you scoop him up before heading to the nightstand, yanking open the drawer and grabbing the gun. Arms worm around your neck, and you squeeze the child closer to yourself as you quietly slip out into the hallway, towards where the other kids’ room is.

“Girls, close the door and lock it,” you order quietly, as you walk into the . The two sisters—Alina and Anya who share the room—look up from whatever they’re doing, and Anya gets up from her bed, but you merely send her a warning look as you  “Everything’s okay. Anya’s in charge until I get back.”

She nods, and you set Xavier down but he doesn’t let go of your neck, hugging you tight to him. Letting out a strangled sigh, you slowly pull him away, cupping his face. Your heart is slow, steady, and you take a measured breath as Alina glances out the window that is right over their desk.

“I’ll be okay. I want to make sure we’re safe.” His eyes flicker over your face and you nod reassuringly.  “You know what to do. Listen to Anya, alright? Try to get some sleep.” The redheaded boy nods and you stroke his cheek with a thumb before he scampers towards Anya’s bed. You stand.

You leave the room, shut it behind you as Alina draws the curtains shut, and your mind is thrumming with ideas of who it could be.

Entering the kitchen, you head to the porch with a quick glance at the window. There’s a figure leaning against the fence, back to you, and your fingers around your gun tighten. Draped in dark fabric and ash-brown hair shining in the oil lamps hanging on the porch, you can’t make out a face as you step into the bracing night.

“What do you want?” 

The figure jolts to his feet, turning around. Edges dulled by the night, you can barely make out his features until he steps into the light, and your finger pad taps the trigger when brown eyes meet yours. Heart lurching, everything rushes back to you and you manage to control the sharp inhale, tempering it into a slow and steady breath that swells up in your lungs.

“It’s been a while,” he comments idly, and you swallow through the hard knot in your throat. Eyes flicking to the gun in your hand, the small smile that had been curving his lips drops away. “You’re a hard person to track.”

“How’d you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy, but Captain Levi saw that some of us were getting desperate.”

Four years.

Four years since you’ve seen any of them except Captain Levi, who only visits to make sure you haven’t been raided by bandits and killed in the months between his check-ins.

In that time, seasons have changed, you’ve sprained your shoulder, it healed; you’ve been thrown off a horse, and gotten back up. You had a period where you would write letters every waking second you were left alone in your room, debating whether or not you should destroy them or send them just for the sake of feeling like you had someone again.

All those letters are still wedged in a box under your bed, so there’s that answer.

Jean stands at the bottom of your porch and you nod, gesturing for him to come in. Your heart plummets as you do so. You don’t know why Jean even bothered.

He closes the door behind you, and you set the gun on the dining table before moving towards the stove, and you ask him if he wants any tea, gracious host that you are. He shrugs and you begin to boil some water. It’ll give you time to look him over as he sits down.

He’s grown the beginnings of a beard since you last saw him. And he’s taller. Way taller than you remember. He’s gotten more muscle, holds himself differently, he’s… still Jean, in all respects, but he’s…

Tired.

You’re sure that’s one word you’re looking for. 

Migrating to the hearth, you wonder if he’s doing the same to you. Studying you like you’re a stranger. 

You start a fire, feeding it freshly chopped firewood from the day before and stoking it before letting it feast.

You never liked doing that before. Swinging an axe down on wood, watching it split. Now, it’s the only time you get alone to your thoughts. You don’t have to focus on chopping wood. All you have to do is swing an axe until it’s nothing more than muscle memory. You can just… be. 

Maybe it isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s why Reiner liked doing it.

You sigh, and grab the iron poker, keeping an eye on the stove. You don’t know if Jean wants to skip the small talk. You do, but mostly because you don’t like it when your old life comes into your new one. You can make yourself believe you can’t go back when no one’s here to remind you, and that the guilt won’t gnaw you until you’re only bones. 

Absently, you remember Bertholdt used to like small talk—Jean seems less so.

“I have news. I don’t know if you want to hear it, but you’re still military.”

“Not labelled a deserter, yet?” you inquire dryly. Everything is moving so slowly around you, yet so quickly. It’s a terrible sensation. “I feel honoured.”

“Let’s cut the shit, alright. What the hell are you doing here?”

“No idea.”

“You disappeared! No one had seen you in weeks—we thought you were dead until the captain came back with strict orders not to look for you, but do you know how ominous that sounds?” Something bites at your gut as you stare into the flames, and Jean shoots to his feet, chair scraping against the wooden floor. “You were our friend!”

His words sink into your shoulders, but you only blink, staring into the growing hearth.

“Don’t you care? You left!”

“I don’t regret it. It’s not like I’m begging to become a Scout again,” you murmur, looking over your shoulder at him. A sort of tiredness pulls at your eyes, and you stand up again, walking around the table. “I don’t know what you want from me, Jean. You came to me first.”

“I want you to care. I want you to come back and fight. Aren’t you remotely interested in what’s going on?”

“I know we have a train, now.” The pot begins to boil and you move towards it, taking out a tin and small metal spoon. “Historia is doing well as queen. At least, that’s what people are saying. She’s expecting. If you ever see her, tell her I’m happy for her.” Scooping leaves into the teapot, you pour the boiling water into the porcelain and let it steep. 

Turning back around, your eyebrows rise when you see Jean has walked around the table. There’s not even a metre between them as he tosses something at you. Catching it, you realize it’s a rolled up newspaper and your heart drops. At his nod, you pry it open and read the contents, fingertips brushing over two rectangular slips of paper within stating a time and terminal.

“What is this?”

“Eren’s gone to Marley by himself. Probably to do something stupid. I have two tickets to go and rescue his scrawny ass.”

“And?” Dread knots at your stomach as Jean closes his eyes, exhaling softly. Pleading, then: “Jean, don’t.”

“You’re the least compromised out of all of us. None of the volunteers would recognize you or would have been able to relay information about you if they have allies back in Marley, and despite everything, I still trust you. Which is more than I can say for Yelena and the others.” You snap the paper shut and toss it onto the table. Shaking your head to yourself, you walk away from him, but Jean only grabs your arm. “You still have a duty to our nation.”

“Don’t try to plead to my sense of national pride,” you shoot back coolly. “I have other responsibilities.”

“What, like tending to wheat?”

“Everyone wants to kill us, so yes, tending to wheat.”

“If we don’t find Eren, they will kill us. He’s our one chance of getting out of this mess alive. As crazy as he is, he’s our one ticket to freedom and we need to find him.”

Turning around to face him, you pull your arm free of his grasp. The lantern hanging is glaringly bright, and something knots in your throat at Jean’s somber expression.

“I fought for our freedom and you know what I realized? There will always be more people out there who want to take that away from us.” You wish you could sound passionate, but you just sound rough and tired. The bite tastes different. “First, it was Titans, then, it was the people we called our friends. Do you think that we’ll ever be free? That we’ll be able to live without a sword above our necks. Levi told me we’re devils in everyone else’s eyes. What’s it matter?”

“Because we aren’t what they say we are. If you lay down and show your belly, why did you become a soldier in the first place?” You jerk back and Jean leans against the table, crossing his arms. “I thought you fought for a dream. Something. Anything.”

“I thought I did, too. I’m just…” A hissing breath, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, turning away. Images of the lake back from their cadet years flash in your head. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

“Tired?” he repeats icily. “You think the rest of us aren’t tired? We all haven’t had the luxury to sit down on a farm and escape all our responsibilities.” 

Head snapping up, your eyes find cold brown chips staring back. Bitterly, you grit out, “Excuse me?”

“Do you think there’s a day that goes by where I think about Marco and how I wasn’t there for him? We all lost someone. You’re not the only person who’s had to go through it. We’re all guilty of something, but at least, I didn’t give up! At least, some of us decided to do something about it!”

“Shut up!” A hand flies through the air but he catches your wrist and twists, pinning you down to the table. Another hand slams your other hand into the wood and you grunt as Jean wedges himself between your legs to stop you from kicking him. Eyes burning, you stare up into the face of your friend and in that moment, the sorrow overflowing spills into your chest as if you are a well and he is the flood. 

He sinks, elbows clacking against the table as he bows his head. His breath is rushed, cool against your face, and you search his features before uttering out a quiet, “Why did you really come here, Jean?”

His eyes widening, his hands loosen. You try to suck your tears back in, but your eyes are burning so intensely you have to let them fall anyway just as there’s a sharp gasp. Jean looks up before he jerks back as if you’ve really slapped him. Sitting up, you twist to look at the doorframe, and your heart drops into your gut when you see a redheaded boy, eyes shining with tears.

“What are you doing?” he cries, and you immediately launch yourself off the table, crossing the distance towards him as Anya appears over his shoulder, helpless. The brunette girl’s guilt punches through you and you lift Xavier up into your arms, hugging him tight before wrapping another arm around the girl and poking your head into the hall. 

Alina’s figure is a mere shadow at the end of the hall, and you sigh, gesturing for her to come. Taking off at a sprint, she charges down the hall and you bury your nose in Anya’s hair just as another body slams into you, latching onto your waist. You close your eyes as Xavier tries to snuggle even deeper into your neck.

“I’m okay,” you keep repeating. “Just a heat of the moment thing. I promise, he’s not here to hurt us. I promise.”

“Are you okay?” Anya murmurs, and you look down. The eldest girl’s pulled her head back to look at you. Her eyes are narrowed, perceptive as always, and her lips are upturned into a faint scowl. You smile faintly, running a hand over her head. 

“I will be. Why don’t you take them back to your room?” you advise, and her eyes wander from you to Jean again. Catching it, you brush your thumb along her temple soothingly. “Go.” Reluctantly, she lets go of you and turns to Alina who still latches onto you like a parasite, but you rest a palm atop her head. “Alina.”

A sniff, and then she steps back, rubbing at her face. Her older sister takes her shoulders, easing her away and you crouch down as Xavier silently grabs onto your shirt tighter in his tiny fists. 

“Xavier,” you soothe. “I’ll be back in just a moment, okay?” You tilt your head. “I promise.” Wiping at his tears, you wait for him to let go of your shirt on his own accord, and when he does, you brush his hair back from his brow and plant a kiss on his forehead. Anya calls his name softly down the hall, and he lingers for a moment more before walking away, head still over his shoulder so he can watch.

You stay crouched until he’s gone and then you let out a soft exhale, head dropping, eyes closing.

“We need you more than you probably need us,” Jean acknowledges quietly, and your eyes open again to look at him. He’s straightened himself up, watching you with softer eyes. He visibly swallows, and you wonder if it’s pity or jealousy in his eyes. “But, we’re outnumbered in trusted senior officers in the Survey Corps. You’re one of them.”

Quietly: “I shouldn’t be.”

He falters for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose not.” He grabs the newspaper again. “But somehow, you are. If Captain Levi trusts you, then so do I. Bertholdt is dead. Annie’s a frozen log in a basement somewhere, and Reiner’s still alive. So are you.” He extends the paper to you. “This is what guilt got us. So what are you going to do about it?”

“Then, how about we go back to my hometown? There’s water nearby. We can go in the afternoons, eat all this food you’ve never had before.”

You haven’t seen a lake in who knows how long. Not since your cadet years, it feels like. Your heart yearns for the blue expanses, to plunge into the cold depths and gasp at how cold it is. You thought you’d given that up, but just there mere thought of it sends your mind spiralling into the images you’ve dreamed of since you were a child. 

“Regret begets regret—don’t have any when you go, and maybe you’ll live a life happier than most.”

You know you’ll never forgive yourself if you never take the chance to see him again. Heart peeling in your chest, you grab the newspaper from him.

“They call it the sea, don’t they?” you finally ask. Jean nods. “A lot of water and there’s… there’s animals in there.”

“Yeah. They live in this salty water and… they eat seafood a lot in Marley. I don’t know if you know.”

“Reiner might’ve mentioned it before,” you say. You look down at the newspaper in your tight fist and swallow. All at once, one door closes and another opens, and you look at Jean, the date and time of the ship already burned into your memory. “He said he thought I’d like it. I guess I’ll keep that in mind when we go.”

Jean’s eyes widen as you hand the paper back to him, your palm scalding as you shove the ticket into your pocket. He says your name softly, but you only hold your hand up, eyes fixed on the floor.

“I’ll meet you there, I promise.” You turn towards the shadows of the hall. In the silence of the night, you hear the hushed whispers of the children you’ve dedicated your life to and your heart disintegrates in your chest. “I just… I need some time to figure everything out.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” Jean’s feet shift along the floor. You look over your shoulder for a moment to find his eyes on you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you reply. “Feel free to stay the night. It’s already late.” He nods, and you flash him the weakest smile. 

Then, you walk down the hall to your children. You have a lot of explaining to do.

.

You stubbornly try to ignore the tears tracing down your face as you reach into the compartment on your pants containing the letters. Reaching for it, you pull it out and crack it open, wondering if it’s even possible to bring yourself to read it.

“It’s not your last question,” Reiner had noted warily as they stood at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah. I guess we have to put a rain check this time.” You had set the box down, looking at him. You couldn’t recall feeling so warm, so empty. So convinced that there was something wrong with how much you still felt for him. “One more question, then?”

A nod, almost hungry for it. “Please.”

“Did you really, really love me?”

The gentlest of sighs, his warm yellow eyes. He had reached out for you, then second guessed, and reached for his breast pocket instead, extending the tin to you. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.”

The entire cabin is quiet as you stare at the ring nestled at the bottom, atop the stack of letters that are wrinkled and must’ve been refolded so many times it’s begun to permanently crease in multiple lines. 

No one’s dared to speak since Sasha died and you look up at the others before back down at the ring again before pinching it between your fingers and lifting it to eye level. You’re not sure what it means to hold it, but you gently close the tin with your other hand, feeling it click shut, and slide it back into your pocket.

The band is silver, rather simple, but it’s pretty, too, in a refined sort of way. There aren’t any gems, but there are simple engravings, lines that curve the metal, causing ripples along the surface and, without thinking, you stretch out your left hand in front of you, trying to gauge which one it’ll fit the best.

Sombrely, you slide it down your ring finger, and let it sit there, lowering your hands and curling them into fists and raising your shoulder, hearing a bone crack. 

You’re exhausted. 

The ODM gear feels strange on your body. It’d been a crash course to get you familiarized with the updates, and you hook a thumb on the strap on your rib cage before glancing at the others. Connie sits with Mikasa and Armin, and Jean is at the back by himself, rubbing at his face hard enough that his skin is beginning to turn red.

You don’t know what to say.

What is there to say? Four years have left you strangely numb.

Jean’s lips pull back into a vicious snarl and his head snaps up to find you looking. Then, everything seems to soften, and he looks away sharply, almost as if to hide his tears.

So you don’t say a thing. Instead, you walk on to the back of the ship, past him, where the prisoners are being held, and you open the door without a noise, first noticing the blond boy. Falco. He looks up at your entrance, eyes wide, and you give him a slight smile as you close the door.

You wish you could hate children for the part they played in killing your friend, but in this moment, you just feel nothing. Not even sadness. You had seen what Marley’s done in the friends you’ve lost.

“Hello, Falco.”

“You lied to me,” he whispers. “You and Mister Kruger—Eren,” he corrects himself. “You used me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” you tell him, looking at the walls. It seems like a supply area, and you grab the bucket and rag that’s been left by whoever checked in on them last. There’s a few clean rags and you walk up to them, crouching before the blond first. He seems to flinch back and the brown-haired girl lunges at you.

You have no problem pushing her aside and pinning her down.

“Don’t touch him!” she yells. “You don’t get to touch him!”

“Calm down,” you tell her calmly. “I’m not going to hurt him, and you are in no position to be making demands at me after you killed my friend.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re a devil. So was she!” she spits as you slowly wet the rag and dab at the blood cracking underneath Falco’s nose. It’s clear whoever was here before only used the bucket and rag as a taunt. Probably telling them they could piss in here if they wanted. A coy coil of disgust wraps around your gut. “Don’t touch him. You’re tainted! You give all of us a bad name!”

Your nose wrinkles as the girl squirms under your hand and you let go of her. Cupping Falco’s face, you continue to wipe at his cheek. The water is cold. You hope it soothes what must be a flaring face.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs dully. Exhausted eyes find yours. “Why?”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea why kids are suddenly soldiers in an adult’s war.” You reach to rinse the rag. Dipping it in water, you begin to wring it out when suddenly, there’s a sharp gasp, and you turn to look at the other child—Gabi. She stares at your hands, eyes wide enough a ring of white is around her irises and you frown. “What?”

“Where did you get that ring?” she asks, voice shaking, and you look down at your hands. “That’s… that’s Reiner’s ring. Where did you get it?” You don’t answer, simply stare at her for a moment, and her breath comes out quivering. “He doesn’t let anyone know he has it. It’s for someone special. That’s—he wouldn’t even tell me. He doesn’t know I saw him with it. He… he —it’s supposed to be for someone!”

“Gabi—“ Falco grabs her arms as you regard her softly, and you have just an idea of what’s going in her head as she points at you. “Gabi, calm down—“

“Why do you have it?” she demands ferociously. “It’s not yours! Give it back!” You drop the rag back into the water, and sit back, drawing your knees up to your chest and resting your arms atop of them lazily as tears begin to trace down the child’s face. “It didn’t even cost that much! You won’t be able to sell it to, you know! Give it!”

“Gabi!”

“You have no idea what that means to him!“

“Stop—“

“You spawn! You devil woman!”

“Are you done?” you ask her quietly, fingers twisting the ring and Gabi inhales raggedly as you look at her flatly. Her eyes widen even more if possible, and she allows Falco to pull her back. Her wet gasps fill the silence and you swallow, tilting your head at your hands. “If you really want to know, I don’t really have an idea why I’m wearing it.” You sigh, dropping your hands and letting your head fall forward. “As for how I got it, if you ever see Reiner again, why don’t you ask him?”

Falco’s eyes widen as you look up and finding him staring at you with a strange scrutiny, and your eyebrows furrow as he lets go of Gabi and straightens up from where he’s sitting.

“Mister Braun didn’t even hear what I said when he saw you,” he murmurs, brow furrowing. “Like he’d just seen a ghost. You and…” He struggles for words, voice unsteady. “Eren said you guys were all old friends. But… but, if he gave you the ring—“

“Shut up, Falco!” Gabi beseeches, grabbing his arm, but Falco only stares at you. “Are you even hearing what you’re saying? You’re accusing my cousin of treason! He wouldn’t!”

“He stayed with you for so long,” he continues, as if in a trance. “Even Eren wondered what was taking so long. He… called it a lover’s quarrel. You…”

“I think you two should get some rest,” you interrupt, pushing yourself to your feet and ignoring the smokey feeling clogging up your chest as tears slip down Gabi’s face and Falco’s face pales at your blatant dismissal. “It’s going to be a few hours until we land, roughly. You’ll want to get used to being somewhere warm before they transfer you to some sort of prison. It’ll be a lot colder there.”

Taking the bucket and the rag, you return it back to its spot before walking out the room and closing the door shut behind you. 

You find the spot you once were standing at now occupied with Floch and his comrades, and then you turn your head to see Jean still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression burning the metal floor.

You amble over to him without a word and lean in beside him, sinking to the floor.

[red-the-dragon-writes]

the misadventures of Skironir and Rubin

crossposted from DeviantArt, written for an "ARPG" on there.

Skironir and Rubin are my ruukans, which are like weird deer moose elk... things. I don't know. They're currently on a quest to get a magical talisman of Gay(tm) from a volcano. Rubin is a directionally-challenged liar, and Skironir is, unfortunately, In Love With Him.

“And you’re sure you know where we’re going,” Skironir said.

“I wouldn’t say I was if I wasn’t,” Rubin snapped back. He was lying, incidentally. He had, like, a vague idea of where to go but… in this weather? In this visibility? The sky was choked with ash. Rubin didn’t even know where the sun was, let alone whether they were going north or south. But the last thing he needed was Skironir bugging him about it. “Why?”

“We’ve walked past that rock three times already,” Skironir said glumly.

“Which rock?”

“That one. The black one.” Skironir gestured towards a little outcropping of some kind of volcanic rock with his head.

“Uh,” said Rubin. “What if it’s just three rocks that kind of look similar?”

“It’s the same rock,” Skironir said. “Look, I told you we should’ve brought someone else along.”

“Who else? Who else would come? In case you hadn’t noticed, neither of us are really overflowing with friends.”

“Well, there’s always Rahh—”

“Friends who can find their way through massive clouds of dust, not friends who will help us steal anything that isn’t nailed down,” Rubin said dismissively.

“Hey, you never know. And besides, aren’t we trying to steal a token? An extra friend or two wouldn’t go amiss, really. This was kind of a mistake—”

“Would you shut up?” Rubin snapped. “I’m trying to figure out where we’re going.”

Skironir grumbled a bit, but obligingly stopped talking.

Rubin squinted at the sky a bit more, struggling to see to no avail.

“I mean,” Skironir said, after a few moments of just complete silence. “Listen, if we just keep going it’s not like we’ll, you know, get any more lost than we already are.”

“Are you joking?” Rubin said.

“Um.”

“You have to be joking, right? That was a joke, right?”

“No, I was serious.”

“We’re not that lost. I sort of know where we are.”

“Is this going to be like the time you got us all lost in the runewoods by accident? I don’t even know how you managed to get us there.”

“What? No. No, I’m not, that was totally different.” Well, he had been lying about knowing where they were then, too. “Probably totally different. At least a little different.”

“I swear to Freya, if you’ve led us around on a wild goose chase looking for something you don’t even know how to find I am going to ditch you here myself, Rubin.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Did you actually—are we really here without any sense of direction? Did you actually do that? Are you for real?”

“Bickering isn’t going to help us find our way any better.”

“So far all that we’ve found is, apparently, a circle to walk in while you lie to me about where we’re going. I think bickering is a better option.”

“Listen, I know where we’re going, okay? I’m serious. I do. I got directions from someone else and everything. I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

“Yes, you would.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

“Yes, you would. You have. More than once.”

“Well, I’m not now. Okay? I know where we’re going.”

“Where are we going, then.”

“Northeast. Like I told you. It’s somewhere at the very foot of the volcano.”

“And you’re really being serious about that.”

“I am.”

“If I find out you’re lying to me, I swear I’m just going to leave you here and go home. I mean it, I will.”

“I believe you,” Rubin said, which was a lie.

“You do, do you,” Skironir said sarcastically.

“I believe you mean it,” Rubin conceded vaguely. “Listen, let’s hunker down and wait for the sky to clear, alright? Just a bit? It shouldn’t take too long.”

“You’d know, would you? Been here before?” Skironir snipped.

“No, but how long could it last?”

It lasted a while.

The sky darkened and got light and darkened again, and the clouds of ash only got worse. It got to the point that they were both dusted gray-white with ash and coughing from whatever it was, something in the air making it heavy and acrid and hard to breathe.

“Sure we shouldn’t just start walking?” Skironir said, at the beginning of the first night.

“No,” Rubin said. “The last thing we need is to get more lost.”

And so they waited, and rested, and when the sun rose Skironir asked again.

“We’re not getting anywhere just sitting here. Are you sure we shouldn’t just pick a direction and start walking?”

“I’m still sure,” Rubin said.

“It’s getting harder to breathe,” Skironir pointed out.

“I’m still sure,” Rubin insisted. “The last thing we need is to get into a place where it’s harder to breathe and then have to stop.”

“Maybe we should give it up,” Skironir said.

“We’ve already come this far.”

“That we have,” Skironir said. “That we have.” And he dropped it, and they waited some more; and then when dusk came again and they were both coughing on the fumes, Skironir brought it up one last time.

“I really don’t think we should stay here.”

“I can’t see how getting lost will help.”

“I think we’re going to suffocate if we stay here.”

“I can’t see how getting lost will help,” Rubin repeated.

“I can’t see how sitting around like a pair of dumbstruck fools will help, either.”

And he was right, so eventually Rubin ducked his head and staggered to his feet, the motion harder than he’d expected. His body felt heavy. Must’ve been the fumes.

“Are— what are we doing now. Are we going?”

“Yeah,” Rubin said. “You’re right. Staying here isn’t doing us any good.”

“And I can’t imagine you can figure out where we need to go from here,” Skironir asked.

“No.”

“So let’s,” Skironir sniffed the air, and broke off into a set of hacking coughs. Rubin fought the urge to wince.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Skironir grimaced. “Let’s go that way.” He inclined his head away from the volcano. Or. Where Rubin thought the volcano was; away from the source of that awful sulfur breeze.

“I think that’s not—I don’t know where we need to go, but I’m pretty sure that’s directly away from it.”

“Do you want to walk into it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No.”

“Then we’ll go this way, and if we’re wrong we’re wrong.”

“I suppose,” Rubin said uncertainly. “We’ve come all this way, though. To go back empty-handed—”

“We can always try again.”

“…yeah,” Rubin said, eventually. “I just—I don’t want to lose our chance.”

“I know. Do you think I do? Obviously not. What do we have, a week left? Two?”

“Not enough.”

“But if we wind up dead, then of course we’re not going to manage it.”

“I know. But if there weren’t any risk, it wouldn’t be an issue—”

“Hanging out in toxic clouds is a little risk?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Rubin said. “Alright. Let’s—let’s get walking, see what we can find this way. You’re right.”

“Right,” Skironir said, and shook his head. “I swear, I can’t wait to get out of this cloud of smoke. I can’t wait for my eyes to stop watering.”

“I know, right,” Rubin said, and shook his legs off a bit. “Let’s head out.”

And they got up, together, out of their little shelter behind the crop of rock, and walked off into the gray haze.

...several days later...

“This is it,” Rubin said. “This has got to be it. Look, remember that whole little nonsense rhyme about the treacherous path and whatever-the-hell?”

“What if it was about something else?” Skironir said, looking dubiously at the sharp path. “I don’t think that can support our weight, if I’m going to be honest with you. Look, it’s practically crumbling.

“The lava clearly used to cover it. If it were that fragile it would’ve melted.”

“That’s even worse,” Skironir gritted his teeth. “Rubin. Do you know how hot lava is?”

“Hot.”

“Yeah. Really hot.”

“If we go across fast enough, it should be fine—”

“It’ll burn our hooves.”

“Not if we go fast enough.”

“Yes, if we go fast enough! Lava is super fucking hot, Rubin. It’s not a game.”

“Okay. Then I’ll try the passageway and you can stay here and then when I get the item you can’t have it.”

“That’s not fair,” Skironir said. “I came all this way.”

“Yeah, but now we have to keep going. And you don’t want to.”

“I just want to be sure this is safe.”

“It’s not,” Rubin said tacitly. “It’s definitely not. But the whole thing isn’t. We’re going into a volcano to get a magical item. What part of that sounds safe to you?”

Skironir sighed. “Yes, yes, I know. But there’s a difference between something dangerous but doable and just messing up out of recklessness. This is the latter, Rubin. You know it and so do I.”

Rubin sighed. Skironir had a point, loathe as he was to admit it. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine, we’ll try to test it.”

“How?”

Rubin sighed. “Uh, I don’t know. Let me just try crossing.”

“That’s… that… kind of defeats the purpose of testing it,” Skironir said.

“I’ll go slowly.”

“Still.”

Rubin snorted and turned away, looking back to the narrow rock ridge.

“Be careful,” Skironir said, evidently giving up on dissuading him.

“I will,” Rubin said.

The ridge was made of black basalt, but shards of volcanic glass poked up here and there, sharp enough to cut. Rocks littered the pathway, as though they had fallen there and gotten stuck. The whole thing was barely the width of Rubin’s shoulders, and it looked uneven. Not something Rubin would want to brave in any other circumstance, that was for sure, and that wasn’t even considering the deathly heat bubbling up from the magma deep below the cavern and running through the walls beside them. One slip would mean death, without a shadow of a doubt. And if he was wrong, and there was a channel of lava running underneath or inside that chasm, even stepping foot on it could mean death, too.

Rubin took a deep breath, shot off a desperate prayer to Loki znd to Odin, and set foot on the walkway. He half expected it to crumble under his feet.

It held. It was slippery, but it held. Rubin tested his weight, and then delicately set down his other foot. The pathway was so narrow that he had to lean his feet towards each other to avoid from setting it directly on the edge. Rocks shifted under his second hoof, and he felt around for a more stable foothold before finally setting it down and attempting to take a carful step forward.

It was slow going, finding the safe footholds, waiting to make sure they’d handle his weight. And the oppressive heat of the volcano only grew more and more intense the further over the ridge he got. Besides and below it, he could feel hot air absolutely blasting up at him, superheated from the laval below, and it was already hot enough to begin with here so close to the heart of the earth. With his luck, the earth would shake underneath him, and he’d go crashing down into that all-destroying heat—

“Please hold still, please hold still, please hold still,” Rubin murmured under his breath, feeling for a safe foothold for his next step.

“What was that?” said Skironir. “Are—are you going to fall?”

“No,” Rubin called back. “Just, uh, you know, I don’t. I think it’s fine, actually. Uh.”

“You sound nervous as hell.”

“I am! I’m walking on a tiny pathway over a whole bunch of lava! Please let me concentrate, so I don’t die.”

Skironir scoffed, but also shut up.

Rubin made it to about halfway over the ridge without issue, and then when he set down his hoof to take the next step, he felt an alarming slide start to happen, and picked his hoof up just in time for a whole section of the path to snap and go sliding down to the cavernous depths below. The path wasn’t destroyed, no, no, it was still walkable, but that was deeply concerning. Skironir hissed in a breath behind him, but Rubin couldn’t afford to focus on him, not if he wanted to avoid meeting the same fate as that cluster of rocks.

The rocks around it, Rubin probed around very carefully with one hoof, seeemed relatively stable, at least, and he kept walking.

“Rubin, I think you should come back now,” Skironir said, as soon as he started up again. Rubin slipped and hastily had to struggle to get his balance back, instinctively turning back to look at him.

“Uh, I can’t,” he said, after a second. “I can’t turn to look at you without overbalancing. I can’t walk backwards on this ledge without falling.”

“Oh, shit,” Skironir said.

“So there’s only one way to go, and that’s all the way to the end.”

“Oh, shit,” Skironir repeated. “Loki guide us.”

“I just hope he doesn’t start moving while we’re on here. The last thing we’d need, ha,” Rubin said, trying to keep his tone light, “would be an earthquake. Could you imagine that?”

“Oh, good gods. You’re going to jinx us.”

“Just… let me concentrate on getting all the way to the edge, okay?”

“We should’ve brought a rope.”

Now that was a good idea. “We should’ve. Next year.”

“Next year,” Skironir agreed.

“Please let me concentrate now.”

Skironir reluctantly fell silent. Rubin could hear him prancing nervously at the edge of the more solid ground.

For his part, Rubin managed, albeit nervously, to make it the rest of the way across the narrow ridge and onto a larger outcropping of rock. He turned, and attempted to school his body language into something a little more reassuring. “Okay, Skironir. Perfectly safe. Now it’s your turn.”

“Perfectly safe,” Skironir repeated.

“Perfectly safe.”

“If I die, I’m going to claw my way back to this earth just so I can haunt you. I can’t believe you’ve talked me into this,” Skironir groused, cautiously setting one hoof and then the other onto the path. Skironir was a shade smaller than Rubin, and he fit on the path a little more comfortably, although not by much. He picked his way across relatively quickly, compared to Rubin, but did so safely for the most part. And for his part, Rubin got to discover a fascinating little tidbit: it was actually more nerve-wracking to watch someone you cared about pick their way over a deadly flow of lava on the world’s narrowest crumbling path ever than it was to do it yourself.

But at least he was doing it safely, Rubin figured. He didn’t put his hooves down wrong once. He didn’t slip, and the rocks didn’t break out from under him. He was nearly all the way over.

Skironir set one hoof down on solid ground, and then the other, and then he put one of his hooves wrong of rthe first time and the entire path crumbled beneath him. Rubin jumped forwards, trying to catch him, and Skironir scrabbled desperately at the uneven surface of the volcanic rock. By some miracle they managed to get him up, and he didn’t fall to a terrible and painful death. Had he been half an inch further back, it most likely wouldn’t have worked.

Good gods.

“Skironir, I— are you okay?” Rubin asked, sniffing him carefully.

“Rubin, how are we going to get back?”

“What? Are—are you hurt?”

“Rubin. The path. How are we going to get out?”

Rubin blinked at the chasm, now inconveniently missing several feet of path.

Aw, shit.

[pratigyakrishnaki]

Urmila’s Duty: Cruel and Unyielding

A/N: I know, I know. Y’all are gasping. “Wow, how much writing is she giving us?” LMAO! This (besides my Ganesha headcanons which are coming!) will probably be the last thing I post in terms of my writing for a while. I’ll be very busy with school so we’ll be back to my regularly scheduled queue. But I do hope you enjoy this. It’s a long (and sad) one! Crossposted to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26137888

Hindu Mytho Event: Day 9 Ramayana

“Well, tell him I’m going too and that’s final. If you go, then all four of us go.” She threw an armful of saris into the trunk in anger, pacing back and forth as she ranted. Sita sat quietly and carefully pulled each garment back out of the trunk, folding it neatly and placing it aside. “Urmila, don’t be like this. It’s my duty to go once I am married to whoever succeeds in the challenge. In the same way it’ll be your turn soon.”

Urmila whirled around from the almirah, eyes flashing, “Don’t you start about duty, Didi. You have a duty to me too! And to Mandvi and Shrutakirti! You don’t think they’re packing right now?” She waved her arm in anger, “I don’t care what Pitaji says, I’m coming with you and that’s final.” 

Sita smiled softly, finding humor in her younger sister’s tantrum and stood up, picking her way around the strewn jewelry in the messy room. 

She threw her arms around her sister, drawing her in for a hug, “Urmiiii-“ 

“Don’t you Urmi me, Didi!” Urmila pushed her way out of Sita’s embrace. “It’s not my fault you won’t let me come with you.” With a huff she sat down on the bed. 

Sita’s brows furrowed as she followed Urmila and took a seat next to her, “what do you mean?”

Urmila threw herself down onto the mattress, hair fanning around her prettily, “Look Didi. It’s not my fault you’re a scaredy cat.” 

This elicited a gasp from the older woman, “How dare you!”

“I’m not lying! You met Rama, you liked Rama, your heart is thinking of Rama. But still you won’t say a word to Pitaji! If that’s not a scaredy cat, I don’t know what is.”

“Psh, you just want me to talk to Pitaji about Rama because of his brothers!” Sita raised her brow and examined her nails at the exclamation from her sister.

Urmila sat up quickly, “That’s not true!”

“I saw you at Vishwamitra’s ashram, all moony eyed over... what did you call him? Oh yes, Rajkumarrrrr Lakshmannnn.” Sita smirked, side eyeing Urmila’s astounded expression. 

“Didi I did NOT!”

“Yes you did!”

“No! I didn’t! You’re just projecting because you probably did the same with Rama!” Urmila retorted quickly, her temper riling up.

“It wasn’t me who called him, and I quote, Priye Rajkumarrr!” Sita’s eyes crinkled as she burst into giggles at Urmila’s offended face.

“Okay fine! I did! I do like him!” Urmila exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Didi, think about it. It’s perfect: they’re four and we’re four! Wouldn’t it be great!” Urmila’s eyes turned dreamy as she fell back onto the bed, thinking about her future with the Prince. 

“But you won’t do anything about it! So now I am definitely coming with you wherever you go!” Urmila poked her finger into Sita’s side, chuckling when the elder squirmed away.

Sita rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Who I get married to is not for me to decide! The bow will decide and it’s my duty to follow it! That’s final! Now get up!” She swatted at Urmila’s head and stood up, gesturing to the room in shambles around her, “and clean this mess!” 

Sita left the room, chuckling good-naturedly, while Urmila, still lying on the bed, began to muse. She hated that word: duty. Her duty was to herself, and to her family. That was it. She’d gladly leave the worldly duty for Sita Didi. Urmila didn’t need to worry, though. She hated being left behind, and maybe, if they played their cards right and God was on her side, she wouldn’t be. Duty be damned.

But fate is a funny thing. Urmila definitely wasn’t left behind when getting married; with God, luck, and a little bit of trickery, she had found her Rajkumar Lakshman. It was vivid to her, her wedding, the travel home, and the night he had asked her for a promise: to allow him to serve his brother. Vivid because it had only been a year - not even, but now, in just one dark, dark night, everything had changed. She wanted to shake the old her; she wanted to slap some sense into the old Urmila: she was so naive. 

But how could she have known that in her haste to not be forgotten, she would be in the same position again. This time, though, the fight was to stay with her beloved. Whatever he said, she would not be left behind. 

“Arya, I don’t care what you say. I’m coming with you!” She argued, ignoring the waver in her voice and the tears streaming down her face.

“Urmila please...” Lakshman stood helplessly, holding his hands out awkwardly. She didn’t know if they were put out to stop her or protect himself. But she would not be swayed.

“No. It hasn’t even been a year! Not a full year! And you want to leave? Without me? No. It’s not happening.” She swiped roughly at the tears streaming down her face, but they wouldn’t stop. How could they when her heart was breaking right in front of her?

“Urmila, he’s my brother!” He gestured helplessly.

“So? I’m your wife! I’m not stopping you from going, but you are not going without me and that’s final.” She wrenched open the almirah, and haphazardly grabbed a bunch of saris. 

Lakshman watched her march over, saris in hand and fling them onto the bed, still angrily muttering about how she would be damned if he left her behind. 

“Look Urmi-“ Lakshman cleared his throat, hoping the pet name would pacify her. 

But, he was proven very wrong when she spun around, eyes flashing angrily.

 “No. I am not your Urmi right now. I am your wife Urmila of the Raghuvansh household,” she marched up to him until she was a hairs breadth away from him. He smelled heavenly, like sandalwood, and her heart broke further in fear that she would never smell that scent again, “and you will not leave me behind.” 

“Urmila! You don’t understand!” Lakshman stepped away from her, frustratedly carding his hair with his fingers.

“What don’t I understand? Make me understand then!”

“I need to be with him!”

“Then go naa! I’m not stopping you! I’m just coming with you!”

“No! I can’t afford any distractions!” As the words left his mouth, he winced, “No wait that’s not what I—” 

“A distraction? Are you calling me a distraction?” Urmila’s anger turned to white hot fury.

“No I—"

“How dare you! I haven’t been in your way once since I came here! Not once!” She shoved a finger into his chest. “I have behaved like an ideal wife! Respectful and loving, and this is how you treat me?”

“Urmila! That’s not what I mean!” Seeing his wife’s rage, Lakshman’s anger ignited, “Listen to me!”

“No! I don’t even want to LOOK at you.”

She turned around and threw open her trunk, shoving sari after sari into it. At any other time, she would have laughed, the scene seemed like déjà vu to a year ago. But this time it was different. So very different.

As she tossed clothes, Lakshman clutched at his hair in frustration, tugging hard. His frustration grew, blowing up like a balloon about to pop. And then, pop it did. He muttered words that made her blood run cold, shocking her still. “I shouldn’t have even woken you. I should’ve left when I had the chance.” 

She froze. Jaw dropped at the jarring blow. The words ringing in her ears, almost not registering. He would what? No he… He wouldn’t… Would he? 

She crumpled to the floor, her knees buckling when she registered the words that tore her heart into shreds, “You- you would’ve left me? Just like that? Without even saying goodbye?” She buried her face into her hands, sobs tearing through her throat, hysteria taking over as she lost control. He was leaving her. 

Seeing her fall, Lakshman’s eyes quickly widened, “Urmila!” He raced over, catching her in his arms, “Are you okay?”

For a moment she was petrified, jaw open in a silent scream, face still in her hands. He shook her again, pulling her out of her stupor. “Urmila! Are. You. Okay?”

She came to, and shook her head, still not showing her face. 

“Look at me.” He held her shoulders firmly, squeezing to keep her with him.

She looked up from her hands, face stained with tears and fixed him with a deadpan look. “No.”

Despite the situation, a laugh gurgled in Lakshman’s throat, but it vanished as quickly as it came when sobs overtook his wife’s figure as she reregistered his words. She shook and he clutched her tightly, the tears flowing freely. She struggled to get ahold of herself and realizing her situation, tried to push out of her husband’s grasp. But he just grasped her tighter. 

“Get off me you- you—” She struggled to come up with an insult, but Lakshman, ignoring her, lifted her and sat her on the bed. He cupped her face with his large calloused hands and wiped away her tears, sighing when they were replaced with fresh new ones.

He took her hands into his and began running his thumb over her knuckles. With a fresh pang of sadness she realized that this would be the last time he would do that for a while. 

“Priye, it’s Rama. It’s Rama bhaiyya. It’s my duty. I have to go; I must go. How can I spend fourteen years away from him?” He looked into her eyes earnestly, and when she looked into the brown ocean of his eyes and saw love, her agony deepened.

“But Arya—"

“Urmi, you and I can live without each other. It will be long and it will be hard, but I will come back to you. I promise. But I cannot, I physically cannot live without Rama.” In her heart she knew this to be true. She could survive this separation, but Lakshman could not live without Rama. He was her husband’s oxygen.

“Then go Arya, just…" Her voice broke as she beseeched him, "Just take me with you.”

“I can’t my love. I cannot do my duty with full earnest if you are there.” He shook his head, and she sighed, her brows furrowed with a mix of anger, grief and heartache. She knew he was right. If she went, he would be torn between his duty as a husband and his duty as a brother and servant. If she went, she would put him through torture, and she could not do that. Urmila had tricked duty before, and it had come back to bite her threefold in the form of some twisted karmic revenge. She was no longer naïve enough to think that her duty was just to herself. It was to her husband, the love of her life. It was to her family, both new and old. It was to her ancestors and it was to the people that her family governed. She was bound by duty, as was he. 

She took a deep breath and wiped her never ending tears. The pause was pregnant, heavy with a question, and finally she opened her mouth and answered it resignedly, thinking, for once, with her head and not her heart. “Go Arya. Go. And I will stay here.” 

The smile that lit up her husband’s face was the final nail in the coffin. He left and her heart was shattered, torn apart by duty. It mocked her. It laughed at her as she wallowed in anguish. This duty would cause her to spend fourteen years left behind, fourteen long, arduous years forgotten, a wife away from her husband as he served his duty to his brother.

A/N (again): This is, once again, for the @hindumythologyevent! And now to my actual thoughts: Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Like just so so so sorry. I like writing angst but it then causes me to be all moody, so I’m sorry if this got you down. But I promise a fun Ganesha thing is coming soon! Look forward to that and let me know what you think! This one was a doozy for me because it was so different from how I write mytho it seemed. I hope I did it justice, because it still seems... almost trivial/childish to me. I can’t really explain it, but feedback is appreciated!

Tagging the mods: @allegoriesinmediasres​ @soniaoutloud​ @1nsaankahanhai-bkr​

And a few mutuals: @incurablescribbler​ @lovingyou-is​ @chaanv​ @heyifinallyhaveablog​ @worddiva179 @supermeh-krishnafan @bigheadedgirlwithbigdreams @ariouseok @iamnotthat @shaonharryandpannisim @will-die-without-chai​ @sthitivinasha​ @jeyaam​ @shellweed​ @rang-lo​ @medhasree​ @tentativetalker​ @wrekalavya​ @ambitiousandcunning​ @vrlndavan​ @dilkishehnaai​ and anyone else I’m forgetting! I’m so sorry for the bajillion tags over and over! 

[ckret2]

Alastor at 3am: I miss the good days when Radio was popular Sir Pent rolling over: Alastor it’s literally 3 am go to sleep

Yeah okay this is a prompt now. I’m also counting this as the radiosnake prompt I owe @hanekdraws even though she insists I don’t.

###

“I miss the old days. Back when the whole world was listening to the radio. Every living room in the world had a radio, it seemed.”

Sir Pentious sleepily grunted. “Alastor, it is…” A pause as he checked. “Three in the morning. Go to sleep.”

“I’m serious,” Alastor said. For the past hour, he’d been laying on his back unable to sleep, staring at the red glow from his own eyes on the ceiling. “It’s… far too quiet, being almost the only one on air.”

He was most powerful at night. The signal that radiated out from him dissipated during daylight hours, and he could only stretch the edges of his awareness maybe a hundred miles; but at night, he was limitless, his soul’s signal bouncing out a thousand miles in every direction and farther. It made sleep difficult, but he’d never minded; he’d been a night owl even in life. Usually—used to be—he’d enjoyed the night, that expanded power, that sense of being infinite.

But these days, the sky was hollow. The other frequencies passing through and around him were turning off. The receptors primed to channel his voice through were all off. When he concentrated, he could sense the higher-frequency signals sharing the same air space, all the television stations and cell phones; but they burned to touch too long, and they were unintelligible to him, just static screams. For a long while he’d thought that he was the one who’d killed radio in Hell, that nobody wanted to own one when the Radio Demon could channel himself through it at any time; but apparently radio was dying in the living world, too.

“What happens to dead concepts? Dead technology?” he asked. “Is there a Hell for irrelevant communication media?”

“Why do you only get this melodramatic in the middle of the night,” Sir Pentious mumbled.

“When you’re awake, I leave it to you to fill our drama quota.”

“How considerate.”

Alastor’s legs were bent and knees pointed up to allow Sir Pentious to more fully surround him: the tip of his tail up near Alastor’s right shoulder, running down his side and around Alastor’s calves, and back up his left side to where Sir Pentious rested with Alastor’s left arm under his head and his back pressed to Alastor’s left side. Alastor could feel scales rubbing over his ankles as Sir Pentious rolled over to rest his head on Alastor’s shoulder instead and fling an arm across his chest. Sir Pentious said, “You feel irrelevant.”

“No,” Alastor said immediately. “I—don’t consider myself in terms of ‘relevancy.’” At the word, the corner of his mouth twitched in what was nearly the beginning of a sneer at the mere concept.

“Mm-hhhm.”

“I’m powerful,” he said, in a way he hoped didn’t sound petulant. “My power is based on the radio but isn’t dependent upon the radio. I don’t cease to have that if all the other stations go away. On the contrary, it just turns me into a one-man clear-channel station! My influence remains even if I am the last relic of a bygone era—”

“You feel old.”

“No!”

Alastor could feel Sir Pentious’s ribs tremble as he laughed wheezily. In retaliation, he reached up and pinched the tip of Sir Pentious’s tail. The entire lower half of his tail squirmed as he wiggled free of Alastor’s grasp and lightly swatted his the shoulder.

Drowsily, Sir Pentious said, “You know what you need to do when the newer generations start trying to replace you, don’t you.”

Alastor let out a long static sigh. “Yes, yes. I know.” He hated it, but he knew. Sooner or later, he had to catch up, or else fall so far behind he’d never catch up again. Either he’d remain the Radio Demon as the very concept of “radio” drifted back into history from being regarded as the cutting edge of technology to being regarded like a quaint medieval magic—or he’d get with the program, learn to translate the higher frequencies, and teach himself to speak on them as well. Maybe he’d become the… Podcast Demon. Ugh. “But you’re going to tell me what I have to do anyway, aren’t you.”

Sir Pentious drowsily slurred a confirmation, then shifted up to press his lower face into Alastor’s hair. The tip of his tongue flicked against Alastor’s ear as he hissed, “Desstroy your ussurpersss.”

With a garbled snatch of channel-switching voices, Alastor jerked his head over to face Sir Pentious.

“Sslaughter anyone who daresss attempt to threaten your ssupremacy.” Sir Pentious had only opened one eye a slit, but he’d also half lifted his hood to allow two more eyes to peer at Alastor with listless, malicious mirth. “They’ll use the radio when you leave them no other choiccce. If the newly dead have newer toys? Either sssteal them or break them. Don’t permit anyone to play with something you don’t have.”

“You know, that… actually wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.” Alastor had almost forgotten that he was talking to the man who still lived on an airship built based on Victorian era blueprints.

Sir Pentious chuckled, and slid his arm down from Alastor’s chest to his waist to tug him closer. “I could use a social media break anyway,” he said. “I know the six buildings that house the Internet exchange points that serve the Pentagram, do you want to go blow up the Internet tomorrow?”

Alastor considered the question for a moment. Then he rolled on his side, wrapping both arms around Sir Pentious and squeezing him tight. Sir Pentious yelped in surprise, eyes flying open.

“Have I mentioned,” Alastor asked, his smile stretching dangerously wide, “that I’m the luckiest sinner in hell?”

Sir Pentious’s flared hood slowly flattened back down as he got over his surprise, and a flattered smirk crossed his face. “Not in the last few days, no.” His tail slid down Alastor’s back and against his legs, pushing them until Alastor straightened his knees so Sir Pentious could wrap around them. “But do tell me again—I ssso enjoy hearing it.”

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Crossposted to AO3, link in the source. If you enjoyed the fic, I’d appreciate a comment or reblog!