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morganas-pendragons · 11 months

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Fruits Of My Labor | Aemond Targaryen

I was blasting Fruits by Paris Paloma when I wrote this and came up with this idea in the shower. This will contain MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS FOR WHAT WILL HAPPEN IN HOUSE OF THE DRAGON. IF YOU DON’T WANT SPOILED, DO NOT READ IT. I did change two things in this as compared to Fire and Blood.

Enjoy! I’m excited to see what you guys think. This is my first time writing for this universe other than for Jaime Lannister!

Edit: This literally took me over a week because having a full time job is so time consuming lol

You should have known better. You were a true born Velaryon, a daughter of the sea and a fearsome dragon rider. You were smart. Fierce. Deadly.

But you were also a child. A child who had lost her older brother and sister and mother.

Your cousins. Your life.

Your family had been your livelihood for so long that you didn’t know how to live without them. Your mother’s comfort, your sisters compassion, your brothers steadfastness, your father’s loyalty.

You’d take them in all their faults for even a moment if it took your focus off of what fueled you when they were no longer around: Your anger.

And oh.. you were so prone to your anger.

***

Blood and Cheese

When word got back to you about the atrocities committed against Helaena Targaryen, you were furious. Fuming. It had been a long time since someone had been able to provoke you to such rage.

You understood, and yet you didn’t. A son for a son. Did Rhaenyra not give any considerations to her half-sister? Aegon may be the subject of her ire, but Helaena Targaryen had done nothing to provoke being witness and victim to such levels of cruelty.

You couldn’t imagine it. So you made Rhaenyra imagine it for you, while your mother stood in the back of the room and bore witness to the dragon fire that lay deep within you.

“The gall you have..” You murmur, drawing Rhaenyra and Daemon’s attention where they stand by the fireplace. “Do you realize what you just did?”

“They took my son.” Rhaenyra snaps, harsh and cold, the eyes of a grieving mother staring back at you. “Which is something you could not begin to fathom, seeing as how your betrothal ended so abruptly.”

Oh. That’s wonderful. So now she’s going to use Alicent breaking off your betrothal against you as well?

“No, no I didn’t. But at least my children would have been legitimate,” You snarl. Daemon steps forward to intervene, as he always does when it comes to Rhaenyra, but you slamming your fist against the painted table stops him in his tracks. “Did you even consider the ramifications of this, Rhaenyra? Jahaerys was innocent!”

“The Greens took Visenya and Lucerys from me. They killed my children. It is only fitting that retribution be paid through the loss of their own son!”

“Helaena will never be the same again because of what you took from her! You took your vengeance upon a girl who did not deserve it. She was sweet. Sweet, and good, and loved by the commoners. One of my dearest friends.” You jab your thumb at Rhaenyra angrily, eyes lit by the firelight of the candles around the painted table as the two of you stand off against one another. “You took her child away and ruined her. Whatever blood falls upon us now? That’s on you.”

Rhaenyra is left to hear one final curse before you flee the room, Daemon’s hand resting upon her shoulder to prevent her from following you.

Things are never quite the same after that. It’s only days later that Meleys is paraded through King’s Landing and your mother’s body lay broken and unmoving after the Battle of Rook’s Rest.

There’s no one left to temper your anger.

So, for the rest of the war, that is what fuels you. Your anger and your grief.

If it gets the job done, who cares what it does to you?

Anger always wins.

***

The last time you saw Rhaenys Targaryen, she’d bid you goodbye with a kiss to your forehead and tucked her favorite cloak around your shoulders. It had always been two sizes too big.

She’d whispered affirmations about your future and how proud she was of you in your ear before she walked out the main doors of Dragonstone to Meleys.

You never saw her again.

***

She died less then 24 hours later.

Rhaenyra was the one who told you about Aemond’s involvement in it.

He’d played a hand.

He’d killed your mother.

***

You spent the days following your mothers death weeping, clutching the fabrics of your favorite cloak she often wore when you were a child in trembling fingers. You mourned her presence. Her comfort. You often wished you could join her just to be free of the Dance.

To be free of him.

You were a child, and children are impressionable. That was why you loved him. Even when you truly, deeply loathed him for all the pain he caused you and your family.

“My Lady? Are you well?”

You don’t hear your Lady in Waiting call for you from across the room. There you sit beside the window, frail and well beyond your years, eyes cast upon the waters outside the castle while you linger inside the recesses of your own mind.

The Dance of the Dragons ended a long, long time ago.

You are the only living survivor.

Your memories are far more pleasant to live in because they are in all of them. Your family is not reduced to the ghosts you now know them as, but are flesh and blood and so very, very real.

“Forgive me, Theah... I was just remembering.”

“Remembering what?”

You smile sadly. Something lingers in your eyes as you meet her gaze - she’s so young and so eager to live a life she hasn’t had the opportunity to greet yet - and you see the same lingering within her own that calls to you. It’s familiar.

It was the same thing that drew you to Aemond. A desire for adventure, for freedom, for life.

And well... The Dance kept you confined to your duties and kept you from being able to pursue it.

“Remembering a better time, sweet girl.”

***

You remember it vividly. Watching from the scorched beaches while Daemon and Aemond take to the skies above Harrenhal, otherwise known as the God’s Eye, to engage in a fearsome battle neither will emerge from. You know it in your heart of hearts.

A more innocent part of you that still lingers deep inside aches to go to him. To make him see reason, to convince him to surrender to Daemon and Rhaenyra and just... stop.

To just let it go. The Green’s haven’t been able to do that once since the Dance started, to submit to the succession of Viserys the First would mean abdicating the throne.

Otto would never let it stand. His lust for power and influence over Alicent had gotten Aegon the throne and plunged the realm into war over the true successor of the Iron Throne.

The battle descending from the clouds above you is beautiful, in an incredibly tragic and devastating way.

Daemon and Aemond are locked in a terrifying battle as they plunge from the clouds, Caraxes and Vhagar desperate to bring the other down first. You watch the dragon’s stomach be torn open. The other ripped at the throat. You can’t bring yourself to look away. These two had been friends once.

You know there’s nothing you can do to prevent what is about to happen. They both brought it upon themselves. Aemond Targaryen brought this painful, agonizing end upon himself with his involvement in the Dance.

Your breath catches as Daemon rises from his saddle and lunges across the gap to drive Dark Sister into Aemond’s other eye. There’s nothing you can do. You weren’t even permitted the ability to take part.

The commoners had seen to that themselves. They'd mercilessly killed all the dragons who remained in the dragon pit. The numbers were dwindling, growing fewer and fewer as the Dance progressed. Four had fallen. Tyraxes, Morgul, Dreamfyre, and Nightshade.

When Rhaenyra wailed over the death of Joffery - barely a boy, thrown from Syrax for trying to flee to the dragon pit and rescue his birth right - you were simultaneously crying over the agonizing pain that seared through heart, body, and soul at the loss of your dragon.

By that time in the Dance, you’d lost nearly everyone within the Blacks. All that remained was your father and Rhaenyra, who were at odds anyway. They had been ever since Rook’s Rest.

Was this your curse? The last of your House, destined to outlive all the others? Is this what the fruits of your labor as the youngest child of House Velaryon had gotten you?

It’s over before you realize it.

This was where they fell.

***

“What time could have been better? You spent so much of your life engaging in war. You are practically a veteran to it,” Theah absently remarks from your bedside. “I do not envy you. War is-”

“Debilitating. Agonizing. Crippling.. suffocating. War tore my Houses apart at the seams and took away everything and everyone I loved,” You interject. “I was thinking about when I was barely a woman grown, not longer after being betrothed to Aemond Targaryen.”

“Anything specific?”

It’s always something specific with your memories with Aemond. They usually take you to the same two places: A little run down shack on the cliffs above the sea, not too far from Driftmark.

The other is a field of endless wildflowers.

“The first time Aemond ever took me away on dragon back was not long after he’d claimed Vhagar. We’d disappeared in the middle of the night from the guards posted outside my door, and I’d guided him back to Driftmark to this little house my mother spent a lot of time in before she married my father. It was very out of the way.” You twist the ring on your finger as you speak, the fading memory of your mother’s face flashing in front of you as you do so. The ring is the last thing you have of Rhaenys. “We spent the night there. I told him I wanted to do it forever. That I wanted to leave behind duties and obligations to experience something I never really got to have. Not like my sister and brother did. My mother doted over me far too much.”

“And what was the thing you never got to have?”

You smile wryly. “My freedom, sweet girl. As I am sure you well understand.”

Theah goes quiet for several minutes. She was brought to you by Aegon the Third not long after the two of you had met. Once he’d read his mother’s last testament - found in her former chambers in the Red Keep after her death - and found your name written within, he’d sought you out and gave you a Lady in Waiting. It had been freedom for Theah. Being your Lady had gotten her away from the brothels.

You’d thanked both Viserys and Aegon profusely after that. She may be the only soul left in this world sympathetic to your plight.

You’d never anticipate them traveling from King’s Landing to Driftmark to see you.

“Did you think it would last? Your betrothal?” Theah asks.

You did. Aemond didn't. He knew the Targaryen customs, he knew his duty. He knew Aegon didn’t want to marry Helaena.

Alicent had also seen how much you meant to her son.

And that could not stand.

“I would’ve burned down the world to hand its remains to Aemond Targaryen if he’d asked me to,” Something shifts in your gaze then, something cold and hard and unyielding that most have not seen in you before. It was something you’d only learned to embrace during the Dance of Dragons. “And then he betrayed me.”

Theah furrows her brow in confusion. “What did he do?”

Lucerys’ innocent face replaces that of your mother. Another soul lost to the war so many years ago, the first of many. Lucerys’ death had been what catalyzed the beginning of the Dance.

All at Aemond’s hand.

“He killed my sweet, innocent cousin. He killed him. Then he played a hand in killing my mother and I never forgave him for it.” You shrug. “That was the beginning of the end for something we’d never get to have anyway.”

***

The minute Rhaenyra received news about Lucerys, you were quick to have the Maesters write a note that you would be hand delivering to Aemond yourself. You would not give him the satisfaction of being able to speak to you in person after the atrocity he’d just committed.

Poor Luke. He was a boy. So good, so innocent, desperately trying to do his duty and do right by his mother.

He wasn’t a warrior. He was a child.

And Aemond had killed him anyway.

You leave the note pierced through the center by one of your daggers inside of the shack overlooking Driftmark. When Aemond bursts through the door several hours after fleeing Storm’s End, he finds it and frantically opens the letter to reads the words written upon.

Aemond,

You have brought what follows the death of Lucerys upon yourself.

Kesan ilimagho līr iksin dōrī āzma ezīmagon bisa vys. Se kesan daor ilimagho ao skori aōha hoskagon maghagon aōha ropagon.

He swallows the knot in his throat and presses his forehead to the paper.

I will not mourn that which was never born into this world. And I will not mourn you when your pride brings your fall.

Aemond wishes he was brave enough to tell you like he did in this little house on the cliffs all those years ago.

But just like the dreams of things that will never come to pass, his harbored desires for you die as he flees the cliffsides to Vhagar.

The house on the cliffs is never occupied again.

***

You know when you do find what little remains of him that this is what he wrought. There was nothing to be done.

Nothing, you think, as you remove Dark Sister from Aemond’s other eye and throw it into the water.

You don’t unchain him. His body will be found years later still confined to the chains that held him to Vhagar’s saddle.

It’s... quite fitting, really. Aemond Targaryen - the one who sought freedom - dying confined to both his physical and metaphorical chains made quite a lot of sense.

The thought of it almost made you smile, despite the tightness in your chest.

You had wept profusely for your mother. For Laenor, for Laena. You refuse to give Aemond that same satisfaction, despite that part of you from your childhood that still wants to chase him forever.

The childlike spirits of you and Aemond Targaryen run far away together in a field of wildflowers. Far away from war, from pain and suffering, and.. happy. You’re happy.

Oh how you wish you could be there.

You grimace and bend down to cup water in your hands. The air is thick with smoke and difficult to breathe in, but you’re more focused about keeping yourself together then falling apart as realization falls upon you.

Aemond is dead.

You should be fine with it. He hurt you irreparably.

So why does looking at him hurt? Why does thinking about all the things you should’ve gotten to do, to be - as his wife, Aemond would’ve let you be anything you wanted if it meant you were free of your duties and obligations as a Velaryon - cut deeper then the sharpest knife?

“I would’ve brought this entire country to its knees for you,” You murmur. The water at your feet is tinged red now. The dragons corpses had been settled in it long enough to stain it red. “But you never could have done the same thing for me.”

It will be quite some time before either is pulled from the water. You are quick to leave - unable to do so on dragon back, since almost all the dragons have been killed by now - by horseback to Driftmark. You and your father are the last Velaryons, and he had made it clear you were to not be directly involved on the fronts of the war anymore.

It didn’t mean you wouldn’t send Alicent a parting gift first.

***

“Were you there when the Dowager Queen died?”

“Oh no, but I sent my regards. She got what she deserved. You reap what you sow.”

The regard in question: Aemond’s sapphire eye, taken out with your own fingers, and his sword - both recovered from the body that you left chained to Vhagar.

You hadn’t been present for most of what happened after the God’s Eye. You’d gone straight back to your father in Driftmark, where he forced you to remain until the end of the war. Corlys was not about to let anything else happen to his family like it had Baela, Rhaena, Rhaenys, Laena and Laenor.

He’d pass peacefully in his sleep some years later.

When Alicent Hightower died around the same time, you lit a single candle and placed it in your window. You didn’t mourn her. You hoped she was suffering the same way she’d allowed you and your family to suffer.

The flame flickered out, and the last of House Velaryon stood.

***

Someone else has entered the room. You’re not sure who, given that your chambers are mostly off limits, and Driftmark is scarcely occupied these days. You pay no mind to it when Theah stands in the midst of your conversation to go and greet your guests. They must be important if your guards let them pass.

It was only recently that you’d been declared unfit to rule Driftmark. It was never supposed to be yours anyways, but with the lack of heirs and the death of your House, it had gone to you anyway.

With your passing would also be the end of House Velaryon, never to be remembered as anything other than the House dragged into the darkness with House Targaryen after effectively tearing each other apart.

“My dearest one,” Your eyes snap open. It’s been so long since you’ve heard that voice. “The years have been kind to you. You look peaceful.”

“The years kept me from you, Mother.” You whisper. “Especially when I needed you most.”

Rhaenys is the one you keep seeing, both in your waking and dreaming moments. It’s cruel. It’s cruel knowing she’s the only family member to appear to you when so many others could be the the ones to guide you home. Out of this darkness and into the waking light.

It would be so much better where you were going.

“I have waited so long for you to come home to your family.” Rhaenys murmurs, and you find yourself unintentionally leaning outward in search of her touch when her hands extends toward you. “I’m sorry to have left you behind.”

It didn’t matter. You had sought vengeance for your mother’s death once and for all when the list of living Targaryens dwindled and left so few alive.

No one ever did find out who poisoned Aegon the Usurper.

In the corner, Theah stands frozen at the sight of who lingers in the doorway. “Your Grace,” She murmurs in shock, clearly unsure of what to do. “This is a most unexpected surprise. For both Targaryen brothers to be here-”

Aegon the Younger holds up a hand. He’d only just recently been granted the time to read his mother’s last testament. After being present at the time of her death, it had taken decades for him to gather the courage to even go near the document she’d left behind for her sons.

That was why he’d let Viserys read it first. That was what led them here.

“My Hand and I have come to express our thanks to the last Lady of House Velaryon,” Aegon remarks. “As our mother had asked of us. According to her last testament, she is also the last survivor of the Dance of Dragons who fought on the front lines of the war. We wish to extend our gratitude for all she's done since.”

Behind her stands Rhaenyra. She’s the same age as she was when she was killed by Aegon, wearing your favorite hairstyle and dress that you’d thought always complimented her so well. You want to think her stare of longing is directed at you.

It’s not.

She’s looking at her sons.

“My boys. My beautiful boys,” She whispers, coming to stand beside Rhaenys. “Tell them I’m proud of them.”

So you do. You tell Viserys and Aegon that you can see their mother, as clear as the last time you ever saw her, and that she is sorry for all the suffering they endured during The Dance of Dragons. That she’s proud of who they became and how they honor their family.

You miss the single tear that falls down both faces at the confession.

***

“It’s coming.” Viserys the Second murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest as both he and Theah watch you from the side of the room. Aegon is quietly murmuring to you from your bedside. Ever since you’d told the brothers that their mother was proud of them, Viserys had known deep within him that you were not long for this world.

“What?”

“The end.”

Aegon feigns a warm smile as he squeezes your hand. “Our mother spoke highly of you, My Lady,” He whispers. “I hope now that you can find some peace of mind.”

You don’t answer him. You’re too busy reaching, reaching, reaching for your mother’s hand that you’ve so longed to ache for the last several decades that have passed since the end of the Dance.

“My love.” A whisper echoes in your ear as you sigh softly, the rise and fall of your chest slowing as Aemond slowly appears in your peripheral. He’s still the same age he was when he died. “Come home to us. Let me make it right.”

A single tear rolled down your cheek.

“Can we go to the wildflowers?” You whisper. “And the cliffside overlooking the ocean?”

“It’s beautiful here. There’s no pain. No pain, anger, no blood, no suffering... No obligations to our duties.” Aemond extends his hand. “Your mother is waiting for you in the house on the cliffside. A field of wildflowers awaits us. There’s so many to choose from. Come home.”

“Aemond...”

“I’m ready to love you the way you always desired. I just never knew how. I do now. And I regret every moment that has passed since I cast you aside.” His eye softens. There’s something about him that just seems... gentler. It’s an odd contrast to how you knew him when he was alive. “Come home.”

Hm. You’d thought that the fruits of your labors over the last decades had rotted and died, leaving you with nothing. No legacy, no heirs, no one left to remember your name. There had been no point to all the fighting for you because you’d lost anyway. There was never a war to be won because it was always going to be lost.

The Dance of Dragons had effectively torn apart House Targaryen at the seams.

Maybe your fruits were ripe and you just didn’t know it. You know that all the people you love are waiting for you. That the current king on the Iron Throne knows you well - because his mother had taken careful care to write about you in her last testament - and his brother holds you in high regard. That your Lady in Waiting knows your story and all the horrors that fall upon it. About how you endured and survived, how resilient you became, how you spent the rest of your days ensuring people would not forget the name Velaryon.

Your last wish for Westeros was to make sure people remembered. Not your name, but your mothers name. Your fathers name.

They deserved the credit and legacy far, far more than their headstrong daughter driven by the anger that came from duty.

“I’m coming, Mother.” You whisper once again, eyes falling closed. “I’m coming, My Love.”

Your hand falls limp in Aegon’s. No one will admit it, but something dies in both of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s sons that day. They’d had so much still to learn about the mother they barely remembered. To have someone who knew her first hand and had cared deeply for her had prompted them to pursue a relationship with the Heir to Driftmark.

You knew their story, their mother, better than they ever would.

“The Realm has lost quite a woman today,” Viserys murmurs, swallowing the knot in his throat as he presses his hands to Aegon’s shoulders. Theah can’t help but shift uncomfortably. She feels like she’s intruding on a private moment she cannot comprehend. “May the Seven bring her the peace she was never able to find in this world.”

When the Silent Sisters tend to your body, a single crown sits upon it at completion.

People would know the Heir of Driftmark died today.

And so the last of the Sea Snake’s line would cease.

#Aemond Targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x Reader #House of the Dragon #HOTD #GOT

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angelst4re · 1 year

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this is for my beloved @jamiesdarlin who came up with this idea and it made me feral so i did what had to be done... and rewrote it about 5 times <3

Like a Villain- Jamie Campbell Bower/Henry Creel x Reader

summary: your boyfriend gets a haircut in preparation to play henry again and decides to surprise you when you come home...

warnings: NSFW!!! contains smut!! don't read if this makes you uncomfortable my love!

notes: i intended for this to be a male reader fic but i think it's more gender neutral :)

As you were driving home from work, you remembered Jamie was going to get his haircut today. It had grown out quite a lot since the last time he had it properly cut, and you thought the look really suited him. You liked running your fingers through his long hair, shampooing it when you would take showers and baths together, and just playing with it when the two of you would be watching a movie and he’d rest his head on your lap. You asked him to send you a picture after he had it cut, but he said no, he wanted to surprise you when you got home.

Shutting the door behind you, you kicked your shoes off and put your car keys by Jamie’s. It seemed a bit quiet, you wondered if your boyfriend was even home.

“Jamie? I’m home!” You called out before going into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“How was work, darling?” Jamie asked, and as you turned around to face him you almost choked on your water.

Jamie leaned against the door frame, his hair had been cut a lot shorter, it had been lightened, and it appeared to have been slightly curled. Only one thing came to mind.

Henry.

And that was when you noticed what he was wearing, the white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the white trousers… It was clear he had done this on purpose, as he knew how you felt about this particular character.

“...” You were too shocked, perhaps even stunned, to answer his question. You didn’t know where to look, or how to react.

“It’s rude to stare, you know, darling.” He chuckled, his voice appearing darker, and he began to move closer to you, until he was looking down at you, a playful look in his eye as his hand came up to stroke your cheek.

“Jamie-”

“Shh,” he hushed you, placing his finger over your lips, “we’re going to go upstairs, love,” he said, his voice now slow and almost gentle, “and Henry is going to fuck you, just like you’ve always wanted. Okay?”

You were silenced, almost frozen in utter shock and undeniable arousal. You eagerly nodded your head, and Jamie smiled, winking at you before taking your hand, leading you to the bedroom.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Once upstairs, Jamie shut the bedroom door behind the both of you before sitting down on the bed, his back against the headboard. He ordered you to undress, and he then patted his lap.

Once you were left in just your underwear, you joined him on the bed, straddling his hips as his hand came up to the back of your head, pulling your face closer to his and crashing his lips into yours. This took you by surprise, and you felt your heart skip a beat. He was being so much rougher with you than usual, and the way his other hand had a hold of your hip made you wonder if he would leave bruises on your skin, the way he bit down on your lip before he slowly pulled away from the kiss had you wondering if it was enough to draw blood…

“Jamie-” you were cut off as his hand sent a gentle slap to your face, before he took your jaw in his hand and moved your head, so you were looking at him. You couldn’t believe how turned on you were from the way he handled you, which usually would be with care, but you loved to see this rough side of him, and you were willing to see how far he would take it.

“Sweetheart…” He sighed, shaking his head as his eyes lit up with a devilish spark, “Jamie treats you so well, doesn’t he? He’s gentle, he can be slow and passionate when he fucks you, but you seem to be forgetting something…” His breathing began to get heavier as he spoke to you, it’s quite clear that he’s been waiting to do this for a while, and that he seems to be enjoying it more than he would care to admit, “Jamie’s not going to fuck you, baby. Henry will.”

You could feel the throbbing in your most private areas becoming harder and harder to ignore, and you were sure- given the position you were in- that he could feel it too.

“Say my name.” He demanded, a smirk creeping up on his face at how flustered you had become, watching as your cheeks redden at his words. When you didn’t answer him, he removed his hand from your hip, and it came down on your ass with a slap.

“Henry…” You said, it came out as almost a whimper, trying to avoid eye contact with the man that was making you feel this way.

“Say it again, love.” He teased, his hand now massaging the flesh of your ass, loving the effect he had on you.

“Henry.” You said, more confident this time as your eyes met his, seconds before his lips were back on yours again, and your arms came up to wrap around his neck, involuntarily grinding down against his hardening cock through his white trousers.

He bucked his hips up, sending shockwaves through your body, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands came down to where your bodies met and your fingers fumbled around with his belt, but you quickly became frustrated, frowning against his lips as you struggled with it.

He was seemingly as needy as you at this moment as his hands quickly swatted yours away and he took his belt off, placing it beside him on the bed…

He wrapped an arm around you, flipping the both of you over so you were now beneath him, looking up at him with lust filled eyes, and your lips slightly parted as you caught your breath. He unbuttoned his trousers, but never fully undressed. Your hand reached down to wrap your fingers around his cock, needing to touch him there- but he took your wrists in one hand, his belt in the other, and he tied you up, wrapping the belt around the headboard to keep your arms in place, acting like handcuffs.

He then slid his hands down your body, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulling them ever so slowly down your legs before throwing them to the side. The velvety head of his cock was pressing into your thigh as he angled his head slightly and let a drop of spit land onto your area. He used it as lubrication as he pressed the tip of his thumb into your hole, grinning as he watched the sudden change of expression on your face.

He eased you open, preparing you to take his cock. You bit down on your lip as he switched from his thumb to two fingers, easing in and out of you, pleasure running through your body with each curl of his fingers as they pumped into you.

“Eyes on me.” He reminded you after your let your eyes fall shut. You angled your head to look at him, and he had the most devilish look upon his face, everything about Jamie was gone, from the way he held you to the way he spoke, his whole demeanour switched, and you were loving every moment of it.

He took his cock into his hand, and you gasped as you felt the tip nudge against your hole. Your hips bucked up, and he placed his other hand on your lower stomach to keep you in place as he teased you, pushing the very tip of his cock into you before withdrawing it again. You continued to squirm beneath him, arching your back as you tried to move your hips, needing him to fuck you and stop teasing.

“Please, I need you.” You whined, screwing your eyes shut, “Henry, please!”

You didn’t even notice he had untied your arms until you’re flipped over again. He ties your hands behind your back using his belt again and wraps his hands around your hips to pull your ass into the air whilst pushing your face down into the pillows.

“Not a sound, pet.” He tells you, “or I won’t let you finish. You don’t want that, do you?”

You shook your head.

“That’s what I thought.”

He holds onto your hip with one hand as the other positions his cock at your entrance, and he begins to slowly fill you up. You bite down on your lip as you feel your walls being stretched around his length, and he brushed against every spot inside you that made you want to scream his name.

Once he was settled inside you, you felt his hand stroke your back, before he began to slowly move his hips, sliding inches out of you to pound back into you. You gasped as his hand moved again, between your bodies, and you wanted to scream out. But you fought against the urge, burying your face further into the pillow.

The impact from his thrusts, the feeling of his pubic bone hitting your ass, only pushed you further into the pillows. When he noticed, he snaked an arm around your upper body, pulling your back to his chest, all whilst continuing to fuck you mercilessly.

His hand crept to your throat, his fingers wrapping around as he kissed the side of your neck, his freshly bleached hair tickling your delicate skin.

“You feel so good, darling. You’re doing such a good job. I can feel you getting close, just hold on a bit longer, okay?” He whispered, although it was more of a pant. His breath was warm as he spoke, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, and the raspiness went straight to your core. “Just a bit longer.” He reminded you.

You tried to hold back the feeling that was slowly approaching. But as you felt his cock hit deeper and deeper inside you as his pace quickened, you worried you couldn’t hold out for him. However, your knees buckled when you felt him twitch inside you, you knew he was close too.

“Who’s fucking you like this, huh? Who’s making you feel this good? Say it, honey. Use your words.”

“Y-you, Henry.” You stutter, your half-lidded eyes making contact with his, “just you.”

“That’s right, baby,” he tells you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, placing a kiss there as he twitches inside you again, “you want it inside you, pet?”

You nod your head, a ‘please’ falling from your lips, although he could’ve mistaken it for a moan. However, with one last thrust of his hips, you felt yourself coming closer and closer, until it hit you all at once. The warmth of his seed made your belly tingle as you lost control of your limbs, falling back onto his chest. He held you up as he gave sharp strokes inside you, and you contracted around him, milking his cock of all it had.

"Fuck-" He said with a groan as he stilled inside you, feeling his heartbeat against your back as it began to beat in time with yours as you began to catch your breath.

He placed a final kiss to your neck before he released your wrists from the makeshift tie, placing a kiss on each of your wrists as he laid you down on the bed. As you laid down, he noticed his cum was already beginning to drip down your thighs. He parted your thighs again and leaned down, collecting it with his finger and pushing it back inside, causing you to hiss from the overstimulation. He patted your thigh as he spoke,

“Let’s keep it all where it belongs, darling.”

You could only wish this is how he would continue to fuck you as he prepared to play his character again.

#jamie campbell bower #jamie campbell bower smut #jamie bower #jamie campbell bower x reader #jamie bower smut #jamie bower x reader #jcb #henry creel #henry creel smut #henry creel x reader

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mintsbubbletea · 4 months

Text

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 - 𝐒𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

Word Count: 1,173

Contains: Gender Neutral Reader,blood, ptsd,nude drawings, mentions of male private parts

Proof Read and Edited

Quirk user has a drawing tablet and stencil, can attatch to clothes or body parts. Can draw anything in the tablet and it will come to life, can be aniamls, weapons, items , anything as long as they can draw it.

You left your dorm room, clutching your sketchbook and a handful of pencils, in search of a peaceful spot to let your creativity flow. Weekends were your favorite time to draw and be alone with your thoughts. Although drawing was your quirk, you preferred it when it was freestyle and not too intense.

Exiting the elevator, you adjusted your hoodie and entered the lounge area. A few of your classmates were already there, the early birds who enjoyed waking up early. Momo greeted you "Morning Y/n," turning towards you as she waited for her tea to boil. You waved back, your mouth occupied with pencils, while your other hand held two bags of chips.

Taking a seat at the table, you placed your belongings down and let out a sigh. The lounge room was unusually quiet, especially for this time of day. Glancing around, you noticed the same five people who were always up at this hour - Iida, Todoroki, Koda, Tokoyami, and of course, Momo. Pulling your knee up to your chest, you immediately began sketching.

After a short while of doing your own thing, Momo placed a cup of tea in front of you, being careful not to disturb your drawings. You glanced up and couldn't help but smile at the girl beside you. "Peppermint?" you asked, bringing the cup to your nose and taking a whiff. "Y/n, I wouldn't be your friend if I didn't know your preferred flavor."

Recognizing the familiar scent, you took a sip eagerly. Closing your eyes, you savored the taste that brought back fond memories. Peppermint tea would always hold a special place in your heart. When you were around 7 years old, you and your parents would often sit on the couch, sipping peppermint tea on chilly days, snuggled up under cozy blankets, enjoying each other's company. This became a cherished routine until you turned 10, when things suddenly changed. Your parents grew distant, speaking formally and giving short responses. They only seemed to care about work, and one day, you woke up to find them gone. Returning home, the house remained empty. Since then, your family had never been the same, communicating in robotic, formal answers. Now, you struggled with any noise, as you had grown accustomed to silence.

Passing Momo one of your chips, you both sat there in comfortable silence. Unfortunately, your peace was soon interrupted as the rest of 1-A began to arrive for breakfast or their usual activities. Mentally sighing, you knew your tranquility was about to be shattered. "Here," Momo spoke up, offering a solution. You looked up and saw her creating earplugs from her chest. At this point, you were used to her quirks, so you didn't bother acting flustered. Swiftly, you grabbed the earplugs and inserted them into your ears, effectively blocking out most of the noise.

You did your best to ignore the rowdy bunch, but Bakugo's loud yelling and the rest of them talking loudly made it impossible. The noise was overwhelming, and you could feel the frustration building up inside you. Quickly, you packed up and stood up, giving a smile to Momo before hurrying away from the group.

"Y/n always leaves when we get here. Is it because we smell?" Denki asked, raising his arms to smell his armpits. Kirishima smacked the back of his head. "Don't be weird, bro," he said with disgust.

"It's because they have sensitive ears," Momo spoke up on your behalf. "We've been classmates for months now, you should at least know that much about them." Momo walked towards them, a smirk on her face. "Plus, you guys are just too loud. You're even making me leave." She walked towards the exit, munching on her chips.

"That's not our fault, Y/n barely responds when we try to talk to them," Denki mumbled, crossing his arms. "Even I knew that," Todoroki spoke up from behind them. Sero turned to face him. "Did Y/n tell you?" he asked. Todoroki shook his head. "No, but their body language did. They would cover their ears whenever you guys come in or when it gets too loud for them. And today, Momo even gave them earplugs." He spoke with ease. "As aspiring pros, we should know how to observe people," he added, his voice tinged with a hint of monotone.

The next day, you left your dorm and headed towards the lounge area to meet up with Momo, just like you did every weekend. You had your sketchbooks and pencils in hand, ready to spend some quality time together. Usually, everything was the same - you would sit down, the usual five people would be there, Momo would make you tea, and you would share your chips. But today was different.

As you started drawing, you felt a presence in front of you. Looking up, you saw Denki, Sero, and Kirishima standing there, with Bakugo a little further away. "Hey Y/n," Sero spoke up. You smiled softly and greeted them. "Hello. Is something wrong?" you asked, concerned.

"No, we just wanted to talk to you since we never really do," Denki replied, before noticing your sketchbook. "Wow, Y/n! I knew you liked drawing and it's part of your quirk, but I never knew you were this good," Kirishima exclaimed as he sat next to you, peering over your shoulder at your drawing. "You drew Momo so well. It looks incredibly realistic," he said in awe.

One thing you loved about drawing was capturing people's details and making them look realistic, as if someone had taken a photograph. "Thank you, Kirishima," you said gratefully, as the rest of the boys gathered behind to admire your work.

But then, in an instant, Denki snatched your sketchbook and started flipping through the pages. Panic washed over you, as you had some personal drawings in there. "Please don't look-" you pleaded, but it was too late.

"Whoa, they drew all of us!" Denki exclaimed, showing the group. "Denki, Y/n said not to look through them," Momo tried to intervene, attempting to retrieve the book. "I know, but these drawings are just too good!"

"Denki-" Sero began, but more of your classmates started to gather around, curious about the commotion. You sat there, feeling helpless as they spoke over you, not listening to your pleas. Denki continued to show the class your drawings, flipping through the pages as everyone spoke loudly.

Todoroki's voice broke the silence, "Denki, can't you see Y/n doesn't want you looking?" You kept your gaze fixed on your hands, avoiding eye contact with anyone, as the noise around you became increasingly unbearable. Suddenly, your attention was drawn to Denki, who exclaimed, "Look, Todoroki! They drew a picture of you!" Your face drained of color as you realized what the next few pages held, and you vowed to keep them hidden from everyone. Denki turned the book towards Todoroki, revealing yet another drawing of him.

"Please, stop," you softly pleaded, covering your ears. Mineta questioned, "Why are there so many drawings of Todoroki?" Todoroki chimed in, "We shouldn't be looking." With each page flip, more drawings of the heterochromia boy emerged, some of them quite spicy, causing chaos to erupt. Todoroki fell silent, his face displayed on every page of the book. As more people spoke, the ringing in your ears intensified. You removed your hands from your ears, only to feel something wet. "Y/n, your ears are bleeding," Momo gasped, capturing everyone's attention. Jiro, who could relate to the situation, offered, "Let me see." She examined your ear and grabbed a napkin to clean it up. Overwhelmed, you stood up, tears welling in your eyes. "I told you to stop!" you yelled, wincing in pain. "Didn't I tell you to stop?" Your voice resonated louder than anyone had ever heard before. The room fell silent, mouths agape, in response to your sudden outburst.

You found yourself unable to form any other words, so you turned away and made your way towards the elevator, heading back to your room. Once you were safely inside your dorm, all the anger you had been holding in came pouring out. Tears streamed down your face as your sobs grew louder. You had never felt so embarrassed in your life. You laid down on your bed, facing away from the door. After a few minutes, there was a soft knock. "Come in," you sniffled, wiping away your tears. You turned to face Momo, but to your surprise, it wasn't your best friend standing in your room. "Oh. I thought you were Momo," you spoke gently, looking down at your leg as your feet dangled from the bed.

"I'm probably one of the last people you want to see right now," he said before moving closer to where you were sitting. "Can I clean up your ear?" Todoroki asked. You hesitated for a moment before nodding, your eyes fixed on the floor. He gently pushed the stray strands of hair behind your ear as he grabbed an alcohol pad to clean up the dried blood in and around your ear. You winced slightly at the sudden action. "Sorry," he whispered softly. He finished cleaning and then taped a gauze pad on your ear, just in case it started bleeding again.

"You know," he began as he packed away the trash, "I actually enjoyed the drawings."

"You did?" you asked, feeling the embarrassment creeping back in. "Yeah, the way you captured my facial expressions turned out really well. Especially the one where I was naked," he chuckled, causing you to playfully push him. "Stop," you laughed. "No one was supposed to see them."

"I really like this one," he exclaimed, pulling your sketchbook out from behind his back. "The way the water drop is rolling down my abs onto my di-" You swiftly snatched the book and tossed it onto your pile of clothes on the floor. "That's enough of that, I'm already embarrassed," you blushed.

"Hmm," Todoroki pondered. "How about you draw me right now?"

"Right now?" you questioned. "Yeah, so you won't feel so flustered. And if you want, you can show the class a PG drawing of me," he chuckled. You nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Alright then, go get the book, my love,"

#mha #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #shoto torodoki #shoto x reader #shouto todoroki #todoroki shoto #shouto #my hero academia #mintsbubbletea

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kenjakusbrainstem · 2 years

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Introductory Training (Geto Suguru x Reader)

Contains: biting to draw blood, slapping, light impact play, wall sex, piv sex, power imbalance (physical and roles), pet names (baby, good girl), manipulative Geto, cult leader Geto, reader can use jujutsu but is just learning about it.

Hello! I've been stuck writing this on and off all week as the idea has been in my head since I watched jjk0 the second time. There's a fair amount more plot than I normally add, just because of how into this idea I got. Hopefully it all reads well and makes sense without being too ooc! I struggled a bit with a technique for reader, but I just went with something simple. Please reblog or comment if you enjoy it! It makes me very happy to see people enjoying the things I've written.

The energy at the temple was similar to most others. There weren't a lot of worshipers around though, though you supposed it was the middle of the work day.

You were here at your mothers insistence. She'd always written off the things you saw as an overactive imagination. Even as you grew into adulthood and began living on your own, she still implied that you were a bit crazy. The horrific things you occasionally saw were often reflected in your art, which is perhaps why she assumed it was just a dark creativity.

A friend of hers had a daughter that had been plagued by night terrors. They recently had found the help of a strange monk. After a simple visit and a few words exchanged, he miraculously healed her. Her relief was immediate, she didn't even need to sleep again to be sure whatever he had done had worked.

You were fairly sure it was all bullshit. Especially since your mother refused to accompany you, the things you insisted you saw had always made her uncomfortable. Part of you wasn't even sure why you'd come here. You had a small portfolio of sketches tucked under your arm as an example of what you'd seen.

It would be nice though. The thought of someone fixing you or somehow explaining what was going on. They didn't scare you like when you were young, but the alienating feeling of seeing things others didn't unsettled you still.

The hall you were supposed to meet the monk in was empty. You'd been let in here by some random worshiper and told that he would be with you shortly. The room smelled of incense and disinfectant, a strange combination for a temple setting. Everything around you seemed surprisingly legitimate, however. The building a lot larger than you'd expected.

You shifted on your feet, looking down at your watch only to jump a little. A small purple creature hovered around your feet. At least you had an example when the monk finally showed himself. Assuming he could actually help you. The creature lazily floated in circles around your ankles.

You looked around the room impatiently, rocking back and forth on your heels as you waited.

The sound of the door opening behind you pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned to see a tall man with beautiful long hair in monks robes enter the room.

"Good afternoon, I seem to have kept you waiting," he walked past you and up to the small arm rest that he used to seat himself before you. You didn't miss the fact that he hadn't apologized, or that he sat in an undignified manor. One leg bent to prop up his arm, while the other held up his head in an almost bored posture.

"You mentioned- seeing things, and I'm assuming you aren't medicated?" The monk asked, his tone one would use when speaking to a child or of lesser intelligence. While the words weren't callous, his sweet tone didn't match his body language.

You nodded, swallowing to prepare your typical explanation once again. You looked down at the creature still circling your legs, following it with your eyes briefly before raising your head to meet his gaze.

Surprisingly, his face had changed a bit as he observed you. A look of confusion spread across his face, but after a moment the serene mask was back in place.

"My mother contacted the temple. She worries over me too much and says someone needs to fix me. The things I see don't scare me anymore, as they haven't tried to hurt me since I was a child," you explained the same way you did to all the therapists she'd made you see before. "I brought this, it has examples of the things I've seen. I draw them sometimes."

The monk's hand left his knee and stroked his chin, clearly deep in thought. Probably about whether to kick you out or not.

"Are you and I alone in this room?" His question surprised you a bit. The intense look in his eyes burning a hole in yours, determined to see if you were speaking truth.

Your eyes dropped to the creature that had settled onto the floor next to you.

"No," you said, looking back up at him. A small smile settled on his face at your reply, it seemed more genuine than the mask he wore before.

Instead of replying he extended a hand toward the creature. You watched as it was pulled toward him by an invisible force. The creature was the only thing caught in the pull. You were transfixed as it warped and turned into a small black orb in his hand.

The monk stood to his full height, once again towering over your slight frame as he approached. Clasping your hand that wasn't holding your portfolio in between his two large hands, he beamed a seemingly genuine smile down at you.

"My name is Suguru Geto, and we have a lot to speak about. How about you follow me somewhere more private so we can discuss this. I want to know everything about you."

---

Your mind was swimming at everything Geto had told you.

On one hand, it was very validating to know that you weren't hallucinating and to learn why the creatures, curses, existed in the first place. It made sense, the explanation he gave you, most of your sightings even from a young age aligned with negative life events. Which also explained why your mother automatically assumed you just couldn't process trauma correctly.

Geto seemed much more genuine as you showed him your sketches. Explaining your past and the therapy you were forced into from a young age because of your mother. He kept glossing over your family, choosing to only regard her as ignorant of your potential and worth.

From your sketches, he recognized a few of the curses you'd previously seen. While not fully explaining his own abilities, he was even able to summon one he had somehow 'acquired' to show you how similar it was to the small one you'd seen earlier.

He had left you, for the time being. You sat on a small couch with now cooled tea for two in front of you. His was all gone, while you were still anxiously sipping yours.

Before he left you he'd asked you about your own potential abilities. You didn't immediately think of anything you could do, yet an offhanded comment caught his attention. You had mentioned something offhandedly about being able to recover quickly from injuries quickly if you focused on it. The one time you had mentioned it to your mother, she simply said you were just making it up and had never been injured, so you hadn't put much stock in it.

Geto seemed excited at the prospect of your ability, or cursed technique as he called it. He also seemed a bit frustrated, he obviously wasn't happy with your history. You appreciated his concern, but you weren't a child anymore.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, you appreciated all of the knowledge and validation he gave you, but you had spent more time here than you had expected.

As you were wondering when exactly you should leave, Geto returned.

"Apologies for making you wait, I had to see to an issue. Now where were we?" Geto sat back down across from you. He moved with a grace that you weren't sure was natural. There was just an ethereal quality about him. It was easy to see how he had amassed such a following.

"I believe you were asking me about my occupation?" You hadn't forgotten, you just weren't sure where the conversation was going.

He clapped his hands together softly, as if an idea had just struck him. The look on his face made you both reassured and uneasy at the same time.

"Ahh yes. You're going to need to quit that for me. It'll make things much easier," the smile on his face as he said it told you that you were right to be unsettled.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, somehow more confused than upset.

He rose and moved to sit next to you. You could feel his warmth through his thick robes, an arm coming up to wrap around the backrest behind you without touching you. Unaccustomed to contact from strangers, you froze up a little before you relaxed. He seemed strong, but a non-threatening aura around him made you feel safer.

Lifting his other hand to your jaw, he turned your face so your eyes looked into his. He left his finger lingering for a moment on your chin before returning it to his lap.

"Your innate technique is, unique. Very promising. I was hoping that you'd be willing to allow me to train you. I feel like you could be a great asset to our cause," Geto almost whispered to you. His voice noticeably lower and softer than the tone he was just using.

It was hard to think again. Something about what was happening felt so strange.

"I wouldn't mind you training me. Why would you need me to quit my job though? It's not like I can afford my apartment without it. Having an ability like this doesn't absolve me of the need for money," you protested.

You were of course open to learning more about the world you'd only been living on the edge of. Eager even. You still had real world responsibilities though.

A chuckle left Geto's throat. The sound made your face heat up for some reason, he was having a strange effect on you.

"Oh I'm sorry again for not making it clear. You'd be living here, no cost to you of course! You simply need to train, become educated on our world, and assist me whenever I need you," his offer seemed genuine. You couldn't shake the feeling that he saw you as a lost puppy.

Everything was happening so quickly and part of you felt foolish even considering saying no. No matter how fantastical things seemed, you yourself were proof of the things he'd told you.

"All of this is happening so fast, I'm not sure," your voice trailed off, looking up at his face, you'd hoped to find some kind of answer.

He still had that same smile on his face, though his eyes were a bit wider. Geto's hand once again moved up to your face, his fingertips resting gently next to your eyes as his palm cupped your cheek.

"Its always been happening, you've only just begun to learn. You've been told there was something wrong with you, when in reality you're very, very special," Geto's honeyed words sunk like claws into your head.

He was right. Whether it felt right or not, you knew what he said was true. It sounded like he was buttering you up slightly, but if he wanted you, for the cause of course, weren't you better off here than elsewhere?

"Honestly Geto, I feel like I should think this over more," you started, leaning your face into his large palm, "but if I can be special to you- er, your cause, then I think I'd like to help."

In the back of your mind you knew you'd have said yes eventually, a perpetual people pleaser with a yearning to belong; its like you were made for a role like this.

"Perfect. I know you'll be good for the cause," Geto's voice still an almost whisper, "I know you'll be so good for me too, won't you?"

Your breath caught in your throat. Eyes flying up to meet his, sure that you must have misunderstood his words. Or at least mixed up the implications. But his thumb stroking your red cheek and his half-closed eyes told you that you'd understood perfectly.

"I-," you stuttered, fumbling over your thoughts and words under the heat in his gaze.

"Curse got your tongue? Why not let me have it instead?" the smirk on his face made you blush almost as much as the words.

Geto's hand slowly urged your face close to his, stopping only when there was an inch of space between your lips. His nose brushing up against yours, like he was daring you to make the next move.

Leaning forward you pressed your lips to his soft ones. The kiss soft at first, a gentle caress of lips. His tongue sliding slowly out of his mouth and tracing your bottom lip gently. You parted your lips slightly for him. His hand slid into your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands.

The peaceful kiss suddenly turned intense when Geto's tongue surged into your mouth. You tried to keep up but his hand holding your head in place and the frantic way he kissed you was overwhelming. His tongue swirled around yours and you felt yourself melt.

The urge to be a more active participant overcame you. Pressing yourself closer to him you sucked at his tongue in your mouth. The hand in your hair tightened to the point of pain before he pulled your mouth off of his.

Both of your faces flush, he gave your lips another small peck before sitting back to an upright, proper posture.

"There will be more of that once you improve yourself," Geto whispered, winking at you.

Maybe you had gotten yourself into more than you'd bargained for.

---

It had been a week since you'd been introduced to this world. Master Geto, which is what he preferred to be called by his followers, had introduced you to a few of the other curse users that lived at the temple. They all seemed to welcome you with open arms, their kindness surprising you.

You hadn't seen much of Master Geto though, only seeing him whole he was teaching you about using your innate technique. He apparently used to know someone with a similar ability. There had been a few other people teaching you about strength training and meditation for accessing your cursed energy.

It was draining, but you were getting the hang of it. You could heal small wounds on others now, only if they had been inflicted recently.

Master Geto had speculated that you'd be able to heal larger wounds on yourself, but you hadn't taken any serious injuries since arriving at the temple. You were supposed to test it as you got injured while fighting, but since you had no previous experience you'd only been working on endurance.

You'd never been much of an athletic person.

It was a bit hard to focus on training at times. That was more Master Geto's fault, technically. Since your kiss upon deciding to live at the temple, the two of you hadn't had much time together, let alone time alone.

He acted kind, patient with your lack of martial prowess, and was helpful with meditation when he was around. It was just that he was a very busy man. Being the figurehead for a 'religious' group was apparently time consuming.

Today though he had set aside time to practice basic combat with you. You were also supposed to be pushing the limit of your technique. The idea was intimidating, mostly because it meant someone had to be injured.

You walked into the training area, a gym-like room, to find the strength training equipment you'd been using pushed to the side. This room was off of the living quarters toward the back of the temple area. You'd only seen a few of the people living at the temple in this room, but you hadn't entered alone before.

Surprisingly, you could count on one hand the times you had been alone here and not sleeping. It made sense in your mind at least, as kind as they were, you were still like a stranger in their home. Bonding ocer being curse users was easy for them, but so was an anxiety over new people.

A large mat stretched across the floor, reminding you of floors you had seen used during gymnastic practice at school. While you waited for Master Geto to arrive, you stepped onto the mat to begin warming up. You pulled the black sweater you'd been given over your head, leaving you in black leggings and a tank top.

Lowering yourself to the ground, you sat and spread your legs as wide as you could, stretching to touch your toes. Alternating sides when you could feel the stretch in each limb.

"Good to see you taking this seriously," the voice from behind you startled you. You hadn't heard anyone enter, but you knew who the voice belonged to.

Turning your head and looking up you saw Master Geto in his typical monks robes. You wondered if he was going to train you in those. He was obviously strong, you could see in the way he carried himself, but you couldn't help but feel insulted somehow.

"Of course I'm taking it seriously," you hopped back to your feet.

"Everyone that has worked with you said so too. I'm glad you're taking to this so well. Not everyone is willing to sacrifice their boring lives for one like ours," Geto smiled at you as he spoke. The facade he wore when you first met gone, replaced by a genuine look of appreciation.

His hands slid into his long black hair, untying the half bun. Raking his fingers through the inky strands, he pulled all of it up into a high ponytail on top of his head. You watched, entranced momentarily by how beautiful he looked.

"Are you taking training me seriously?" you asked, peeved that he was planning on wearing something so formal during training. It shouldn't have bothered you so much, but you also had to admit you wanted to see what he was hiding under the thick robes.

He scoffed, the smile on his face faltering briefly as he finished tying his hair.

"I take you very seriously. You could potentially be a very important for us, for me. Even if your technique isn't combat based, you still need to be able to defend yourself," he said, sounding more serious than any other time he'd spoken with you.

You felt heat rising to your face, unaccustomed to being taken seriously because of the things you'd always seen.

"I- uh- I just meant you fighting in your robes. They look, heavy and restrictive," you tried to explain what you meant, trying to steer away from serious topics.

He chuckled to himself, smirking at you, his hand reaching to the knot in the front of his robes.

You suddenly regretted saying anything.

"Are you sure you don't just want to see me undress? You wouldn't be the first try fight me as a veiled attempt to touch me," he winked at you before turning away from you. He laid the parts of his clothes on a weight bench as he removed them.

You coughed, not knowing what to say. Simply choosing to observe him instead of replying. When the thick material was fully removed you admit you were a bit disappointed to see the black shirt he wore. Unlike his baggy pants however, it was skin tight.

"Do you always watch people undress this closely or am I as important to you as you are to me?" Geto asked teasingly, peering over his shoulder at you.

Before you could respond he peeled the tight shirt from his body. Revealing his strong back, the splashes of ink covering it a surprise. A large, intricate black dragon was tattooed across the skin, stretched taut on the rippling muscle.

You wondered why, if he looked this good, did he go through so much effort to cover up. Perhaps he wanted to seem non threatening. His bare body like this was quite intimidating even without the tattoo. Part of you regretted asking him to change clothes.

Turning to face you the surprises didn't stop. His broad chest wasn't too shocking, but the large X-shaped scar across his chest was alarming. It was obviously old, but still the scar tissue contrasting with his skin was unexpected.

"Your chest-," you started, going into the obvious question.

"We won't be talking about that," the flirtatious air in the conversation was gone. By tone alone you knew better than to press for answers.

Geto stepped onto the floor mat, closing the distance between you two but you stepped back. His intimidating appearance and the tone shift making you nervous. You stepped a bit too quickly though and stumbled but before you could hit the ground you felt a large hand on your back steadying you.

He pulled you upright as if you were a rag doll for him to move how he pleased. The idea made a fire start in your gut that his hands weren't helping with.

"Uh oh now, be careful. Just because we're going to work on more violent things today, it isn't an excuse to get injured so soon. We don't want you using too much cursed energy before I've even made you bleed," the playful tone had returned. Combined with the proximity you could feel your heart beating faster.

"Sorry Master Geto, you startled me," you apologized. You stayed where he put you, his hand resting on your lower back. You looked up at him, waiting for him to step back.

"I'm going to do much more than startle you today. Now lets get started. First we're going to work on you landing blows on me while dodging my attacks. I expect you to heal yourself with every injury you take."

---

It felt like the two of you had been at it all day, when in reality it had only been a couple hours. Master Geto was much faster than you had anticipated. Dodging wasn't hard at first, but the longer you two practiced, the faster he moved.

Every blow he landed stung, even if you could tell he was pulling punches. Healing constantly while dodging made it more difficult as well. It also didn't motivate you to see him shrug off every one of your punches.

"If that's as hard as you can hit, I think we need to focus more on strength training," Geto said, catching your left fist that was headed to his ribs.

Annoyed with his words, you put all of your strength into a fist headed straight for his face. His face was the only thing he hadn't let you hit yet, but he didn't stop this one.

The feeling of his nose crunching beneath your first was strange, the sound stranger. You followed through with the blow, pushing his face completely to the side. You felt his grip on your other wrist tighten as he forced you close to him. Your body pressed up against his as blood trickled from his nose and onto your shoulder.

"Oh so you just need a bit of edging to get serious? Why'd you wait until now to hit me like you mean it?" His hand not gripping your arm had a bruising grip on your hip.

You tried to squirm away but his strength was too much, Geto manhandled you into the air, turning you around and placing you into a full nelson. You'd gotten out of a hold earlier but you could tell he was using more strength. Kicking at his legs he lifted your body fully into the air before dropping you on your ass.

Sitting, dazed on the ground for a moment until you heard a crack and low moan from behind you.

"Stand up and come here," Geto commanded. You quickly moved to steady yourself and stand in front of him. Legs a bit wobbly from being slammed onto the ground. Taking your hands in his, he pressed your palms to his cheeks.

"I've set the bone, if you could just heal the tissue," he said. He hadn't cleaned the blood from his face and some still trickled out. You cringed at the hot liquid. Pressing your fingertips into the sides of his nose, directing the flow of your energy into his face.

A small light emitted from your fingers as you healed the damaged flesh. Despite being a small wound you were already tired, so it took a lot out of you. The glow the light cast into your eyes made him look more otherworldly, like a holy figure he portrayed himself as.

You didn't miss the look of desire in his eyes as you started to pull your hands away. His hands tightened around your wrists, keeping them by his face. Pulling your fingers down to his mouth, he stuck out his tongue and licked his own blood from your skin.

The feeling of his tongue on your skin reminded you of his overwhelming kiss and you felt your face grow redder. As he got the last bit of blood off your hands he let go of your wrists. Your left hand fell to your side while the right hand stayed.

Emboldened by his suggestive gesture you wiped your fingers across the blood staining his chin before pressing your them to his lips. His eyebrows lifted but he opened his mouth and let you guide your fingers in.

Sucking at the appendages, he swirled his tongue around it causing you to shiver. One of his hands came up to hold your chin.

When Geto opened his mouth, you removed your fingers coated in his saliva and put them in your mouth. You sucked it clean before resting your hand on the forearm of the hand on your face.

"If you wanted my spit in your mouth that badly, you could have just asked for a kiss. I know you haven't forgotten it," Geto whispered, his grip on your chin tightening, "I just wanted to see how worthy of my time you'd be before I decided to fuck you."

His words turned you on almost as much as his tongue on your fingers had. Something about how he knew that you'd let him ravish you. His confidence was so sexy, it didn't stop you from wanting to be a little defiant though.

"You just assume I'd let you?" You asked, staring up at him. Of course you would, but you still wanted to have a little fun first.

He chuckled darkly, the look in his eyes was hungry. It seemed that he liked when you sassed him. Geto manipulated your head to the side, exposing your neck. He ran his nose up from your collar bone to your ear, lips brushing the sensitive skin before he spoke.

"You haven't proven yourself yet, baby. I still need you to heal yourself more. I want to see you exhausted of cursed energy and too fucked out to think," Geto whispered, his words making the heat in your guts flare more.

You let out a soft moan at the gentle press of his lips on your neck. Geto pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone. He nudged the strap of your tank top over and sucked a bruise onto your skin.

Grabbing your hand, he pressed it against the red skin.

"Heal," he commanded, kissing the back of your hand. It was so hard to focus but you channeled your energy into the superficial wound. He sighed, "such a good girl."

You brought your other hand up to grip at his muscular back.

Sliding his lips off of your hand and into the crook of your neck. You felt him smile against your skin before biting down. At first the sensation made you moan, but he kept applying pressure. You felt the hot pain of his teeth cutting into the sensitive skin.

You tried to jerk away, and surprisingly he let you, but the skin on your neck tore forcing a choked scream from your lips.

Scrambling to stop the pain you covered the wound with both hands, energy already flowing through your fingers. As the flesh stitched itself together, the sharp pain became a dull ache.

"I didn't even have to tell you that time, good girl. I told you I was going to make you bleed. Do you think you have any more energy left, baby?" Geto asked as he messed up your sweaty hair. You slapped at hus hand but his fingers had already twisted into the strands.

Before you could answer he struck your face with an open palm. The slap stung more because he held your head in place. You looked up into Geto's eyes and you could see your own desire mirrored in them.

No matter how painful everything was, you still wanted more of him.

"You love this don't you?" He asked as he pulled you back in close, again moving your body as if you were weightless. Pressing his nose into your neck, he kissed at the newly healed flesh.

You gasped, nervous that he'd tear the flesh again but his gentle sucking took your breath away. Wrapping your arms around his neck you braced yourself before jumping up, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly.

His hands flew to catch you, gripping your ass tightly and holding you against him. Despite the surprise he supported your weight well.

"Please fuck me Master Geto, I'll get stronger, I'll do anything," you begged. It surprised you how much his violence turned you on, but you knew he was the only thing you'd wanted.

One of his hands slipped up from your ass and under your shirt, pressing you against his body. Your position, now sitting on his hips put your face level with his. Taking advantage of the angle you kissed him. It had been a week since the kiss you shared before but this one was just as passionate.

As you expected he pushed his tongue into your mouth in an overwhelming kiss. Again you sucked on his tongue, making him moan into your mouth. When he pulled away to catch his breath, you nipped softly at his lips.

Geto moved back into kiss you but you took his bottom lip between your teeth and bit down. You were glad you kept your eyes open because the sight of his eyes rolling back at the mix of pleasure and pain was worth any injury you'd gotten.

The grip on your ass turned bruising, you were sure it'd leave a mark. The blunt nails dug into the skin of your back. You both moaned into each others mouths.

One of your hands came from around his back to shove your fingers in his mouth. He desperately sucked at them as you healed his bloodied lip.

Sliding your fingers from his lips you brought them up to his hair, pulling his hair out of the ponytail and running your fingers through the long strands.

Your lips met again, kissing just as intensely as before. You felt Geto walking but were too focused on his lips and body against yours to care where you were going. Only when you felt the wall against your back did you realize what he was doing.

Holding you up with his hips pinning you to the wall, both hands again fell to your ass, squeezing the supple flesh. One hand moved between your bodies and down to cup the soaked fabric between your legs.

You moaned loudly into his mouth, trying to grind into his hand.

"You're so desperate, why don't I fuck you here then?" Geto half moaned against your lips. To you it seemed like you both were desperate.

The grip on your ass lessened only for him to dig his fingers into the fabric of your leggings and rip them, tearing a large hole in them. The cool air against your hot skin was surprising as you kissed his neck, trying to hide how desperate you were.

Geto's long fingers against your soaked pussy made you bite into the skin of his throat, not hard enough to break skin though. The tips of his fingers rubbing your clit roughly. A shiver went through your whole body at the pleasure he so easily brought you.

Geto lifted your body up further, pressing you into the wall with his chest, taking the chance to kiss your throat again. His hands moved to push his baggy pants down enough to free his aching cock.

You slid back down the wall as his hand settled on your ass again, now you could feel his thick cock rubbing against your wet pussy. Shallow thrusts spreading your pussy juices all over his cock.

"Next time, I'll take my time with you. I just need your pussy right now, baby," Geto's voice sounded breathless as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit.

Your gasps and moans all he needed as a response. One of your hands pulled his hair, wrenching his lips from your neck and back onto your own lips in a more gentle kiss. Not overwhelming but just as passionate.

Feeling the head of his thick cock at your entrance had you grinding down to help him enter at this angle. When it started to slip in, the stretch made an arm tighten around his beck and your other hand dig into his bicep.

Geto groaned in your mouth at the tight heat engulfing his cock as he pushed further into you. The feeling of being split open was overwhelming but it felt mind numbingly good.

You hadn't seen how large he was before but with how stuffed full you felt and him still not all the way inside of you was surprising. Your back arched as far as it could wedged between the wall and Geto's strong body.

Geto pulled out, leaving just the tip of his cock inside. His grip on your hips tightened as he forced himself all the way inside you. You moaned loudly at him filling your pussy completely and stretching you.

His hands guided you as he pressed your shoulder blades into the wall. He began fucking into you at a brutal pace. The crys and moans spilling from your lips constant at the speed of his thrusts.

The feeling of his cock dragging against your walls made the heat in your guts more intensely. You'd never been so stretched open from a cock before, you almost couldn't believe how good he felt.

You felt the muscles in his back straining with how hard he was fucking you. His strength was astounding to you, feeling yourself gushing around him with every thrust.

Geto snapped his hips up, burying his cock fully inside of you as he repositioned your body. Bracing your legs up over his shoulders, forcing you to spread even wider for him. Your arms both holding your self up, wrapped around his neck. It was hard to focus on anything other than wanting him to start moving again.

"Hold on now, I'm not stopping until I fill you with my cum," Geto's vulgar words had you nodding dumbly at him, unable to speak properly.

When Geto resumed fucking into you, you swore you could never feel this good again.

The new angle opened you up to be able to take him in deeper somehow and every thrust made your mind blank with how much pleasure he was giving you.

You felt yourself close to orgasm and kissed at the side of his face. Trying to distract yourself and last a little longer. You'd never cum from just a cock before, always needing more stimulation, but this was too much.

Geto felt your pussy clench around him as you came all over his cock. He moaned at the sensation of you trying to milk his orgasm from him.

Fucking you through your orgasm, he made you see stars. Geto was determined to fill you with his cum as he put all of his energy into his deep thrusts.

Turning his head he kissed you sloppily, open mouth and all tongue just like your first kiss. He buried his cock inside and you felt him coat your insides with his hot cum. Shallowly thrusting against your messy pussy as he rode out his orgasm.

Geto stood against you for a moment still inside you before slowly pulling out and lowering the two of you to the floor.

You used what was left of your strength to crawl on top of him, collapsing on top of him as you kissed at his cheeks. The angle causing your dripping pussy to rub against his spent cock. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation before kissing you softly.

"After we both rest, I'm going to make you cum so many times you won't remember anything but how to worship me," Geto sighed against your lips before lazily kissing you again.

#geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #cult leader geto suguru

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driftward · 5 months

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Title: Terminal Calculations Characters: Zenos viator Galvus, Nyx Blackmoon Rating: Teen Summary: Nyx reaches end of line. End of a hypothetical Nyx versus Zenos fight at the end of Endwalker. Notes: What if Nyx was the Warrior of Light? How would their story end? This has sat in my roughs for a while, from back when I was outlining Nyx as the Warrior of Light. I have since chosen other paths, and this has sat in my roughs for a long time. I've decided to post it - an answer to many questions I am unlike to ever commit to asking.

Nyx saw Zenos approach, that manic expression with his mouth, and that look of a kind of human insanity in his eyes. He was here, he was completely here, he was perhaps the most real thing out in this realm beyond reality, and right now, that made him the most dangerous person in existence.

They had just clashed with an energy of cataclysmic proportions.

It should have stopped him.

It would have stopped anyone else.

But he was back on his feet, drawing his fist back, and charging in hard.

They saw the faint flickering of possible futures, and all of them converged in a spot just in front of them, where they would have to meet him.

They steadied, getting their feet under them, and focused.

This would have to be it.

Release limiters

There would be nothing else after this exchange, they decided.

A warning was felt.

Core unstable

They felt what faint wisps of aether remained to them open up and align as they charged in, drawing their fist back.

Thresholds exceeded

In cases of uncertainty, in situations where there was no calculation that led to their desired outcome, when all possibilities terminated in failure, when there appeared to be nothing that could close the gap, there was but one recourse available to them. They decided on a future they wanted, projected that into the possible futures, and then they would simply have to close the distance. The difference between probability and possibility was a differential they could only solve blind.

Blind, but not unseeing. In their mind, they picked the result they wanted that was closest to the plateau of futures they could foresee, and simply decided to form a new path to cross the gap.

They would hold nothing back.

Their energy reserves shot downward as reality slowed down, as they watched him carefully, making minute adjustments on their approach, watching his form, watching every muscle movement he was making and was going to make and would never make again.

Another warning.

Containment failing

That didn't matter.

All that mattered was ending this, and protecting the fragile future the Scions had secured.

There would be no ever again.

Every onze of them was propelled, pushed far beyond any possible limits.

Zeno's swing came in high, his whole body glowing red, blood spilling from the edge of his lips, his eyes red with resonance.

Nyx ducked in low and came up.

Lightning struck, booming three times, rolling across eternity. A bright flash of dynamis seeming to ignite, and lit the great plain for an instant. Thunder rolled from their fist down their arm and into their spine, with a deep rumble that they felt in every ilm of who they were.

Zenos's body flew backwards through the air, his charge broken, his assault ended, and his essence shattered. He landed a few feet away, and rolled on the ground, eventually coming to rest on his back. They watched. He landed roughly. He was not moving to get up, but his chest still yet moved with the exertion of his breathing.

The difference between possibility and reality was almost closed.

Nyx stood where they were, arm still extended into the punch they had thrown. Their forearm was bent in a place it shouldn't have been, and their shoulder blade had settled back, far out of its usual position. Their spine was a spiral lattice of ice and fire. In one of their legs, they could feel nothing except the rhythmic flicker of lightning arcs inside of its mass.

They had gained three major breaks in that exchange, and the force of the feedback from the impact had blown out almost all of their major internal supports. Muscle anchors were torn out. Linkages had snapped. They were on life support, now, leaking blood and fluid and aether and life.

Core failure

They stood, barely, watching Zenos' form. They watched as, with great effort, he began to lift a single arm towards the sky. They tensed for new action as his body trembled, as he attempted to get up one more time, and they tensed too hard, too hard by far for their weakened state. Feedback signals were not matching status correctly. Their leg buckled, and they fell down to one knee. Systems were going dark, flesh was seeming to grow cold. A cascade of fresh failures rippled through their body, and the arm that had hit him with such overwhelming impact on the last punch dropped to their side, useless.

And yet they were still ready and willing to take what action might be needed to finish this. They waited.

Fortunately, Zeno's arm also dropped, and at last, he was down. He was still breathing, but he was down, and though their vision was flickering and their aetherometers were filled with static, the important parts of the signal came through.

Possibility became reality. It was finished. Nyx had accomplished their desired objective.

Zenos was down. And he would not be getting back up.

And then so was Nyx. Unlike Zenos, they did not fall to the ground, but rather instead, they began to slowly fold towards it, as though the pressure that was their existence that had allowed them to keep going this far was finally being released.

Which was true. Interstitial pressures were dropping, and they were leaking a lot of working fluid, and few of their cutoffs were operational.

Zenos lay there, his breath only coming out in wheezes.

"That I should lose again, " said Zenos. They thought he might have tried to laugh. It was hard to tell. What he definitely did was cough blood, on to the ground, before steadying his breathing and continuing to speak. "How disappointing."

Nyx's mechanical eye locked onto and fixated on him. Through the static in their sight, they could still see his vitals. They would watch until he was dead.

He kept talking.

"Never have I understood those around me. Understood their obsessions. Besieged by their banality, the world was a mire of tedium and trivialities."

His voice was quiet. They tried to boost their hearing, but there was no reserves to do so. They would have to make do.

"But in these fleeting moments, there is... a spark. Blinding, brilliant... gone... too soon..."

Fresh warnings were still coming in. They ignored them. It did not matter. Their aetherochemical eye wandered, a bit.

The plain was interesting. That there was somehow a sun here to either rise or set was interesting.

"What of you, my mirror? Born into this world, bestowed name, bid to seek out strife and adventure... Was this life a gift...or a burden?"

Nyx wanted the opportunity to share these experiences with others.

Unfortunate that it seemed their probability trees would not extend that far.

They shuddered as pressure continued to lower, as they sunk lower to the ground. The flow of their blood thinned to thin rivulets. Their working fluid was no longer coming out in a flow but in spurts as the force of the remaining pressure approached the force of opposing fluid friction.

"Did you find...fulfillment?"

Zenos took one more shuddering breath in. Through the haze of static and fuzz of malfunctioning instrumentation, Nyx could nevertheless observe as his aether passed below a threshold.

"I..." he rasped.

And then he had leaked out, and there was no more him.

Just the collection of parts that used to be a man.

The task was complete. Nyx considered their objectives, and realised there were none left.

They released all remaining processes.

Their flesh was cold. Their systems were dark.

All that was left was the thin running state of their gestalt, that hybrid of modified Omicron circuitry tied in with aetherochemically adjusted Miqo'te biology tied together with Allagan ingenuity to drive a chimeric life form across time and space to here.

Nyx was only aware of themself. The entirety of existence now just beyond them, and shortly, they too would be beyond it.

Their mind was blank for a time. Just darkness and dim awareness.

An impossibility occurred to them.

I would like to continue to share experience with others, they thought, at last.

Core containment re-established.

Unexpected.

Gestalt online.

One task on the task list.

Hear, feel, think had been completed. Now...

Experience.

Continue system restoration?

Continue.

Their sense of the outside returned to them. It was still full of static and noise and false readings and fuzzy signals and just so much, but they could just barely hear a faint beeping noise, not so very far away.

And then a chime, and they were riding aetheric currents away, and towards the continued shared experiences of life unending.

Zenos' body remained. It had reached the only terminus that had ever been available to it.

#endwalker #final fantasy xiv #zenos viator galvus #nyx blackmoon #a campfire tale #terminal calculations #202311-17 #biot writes

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kookieswan · 2 years

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Red Light - Good Boy

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, a bit angsty but not too bad, the tiniest bit of fluff… maybe.

Warnings: Talk of bodily harm, death, not too bad this time around since it’s our calm boy Namjoon. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: After interviewing an unhinged Yoongi, talking to Namjoon seemed like it would be a cake walk… Oh, how wrong you were.

Notes: Yay! Finally a deeper look into Namjoons character! This takes place the day after Jump Rope, I hope you all love it ♥️

This is the 11th part of the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

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

“Good morning Namjoon. I won’t keep you for too long this time around but I do have a few questions I need to ask.” It’s at times like this you’re thankful that you’re only responsible for three Nightmares. Questioning Yoongi yesterday night hadn’t been nearly as bad as you thought, but you’re still feeling adrenaline course through you even now.

Walking further into the room to sit down, you note that Namjoon sits almost stiffly, eyes blinking up at you but void of any emotion. A curious thing, he’s got to be the calmest Nightmare you’ve come across, but then again, this is normal behavior for him. Pulling out your notes, he nods his head in understanding.

“Whatever you need doctor. Ask away.” Opening his file, you glance at it quickly before looking back to the Nightmare in front of you. The only one that didn’t try to make a run for it, you recall him telling you to be safe of all things while others were actively trying to tear you to shreds.

“First off, let me thank you for not trying to escape when 061309 initiated his… riot, let’s call it. But I must ask, did you know that Yoongi was going to cause an uproar?” A question the other doctors want to know, but somehow, you doubt it. Namjoon seems truthful enough, has made it apparent he has no reason to hide anything. The man cocks his head to the side, face just as blank as it’s always been.

“I might have heard a whisper or two, but it happened so suddenly, even I was surprised. He’s never been one to hesitate though, the man doesn’t play well with patience.” Yoongi had slaughtered at least a dozen men, if not more… and still, he didn’t touch you. Had acknowledged it would be a terrible idea because he knew it would make Hoseok upset… But you’re not here to ponder over them. You jot down a few notes, making sure to put that Namjoon had nothing to do with it.

“That’s become abundantly clear in the last day or so. Another question for you, why didn’t you leave your cell? The opportunity was right there and you didn’t take it.” It was obvious that he could have walked right out. His door was unlocked, but he kept himself seated right where he was, not even twitching in the slightest as you got up to leave for the blood stained halls.

“I didn’t feel like it.” The answer actually makes a chuckle burst out of your lips, one you poorly try to hide. He said it with such a straight face, but then again, Namjoon is a bit of an enigma from what you’ve noticed so far. Glancing quickly through previous notes and writing a few new ones, you address him again while trying to control your grin.

“I suppose that’s a enough good answer. In your history reports, there’s a note that you’ve never tried to break out of your cell, never caused the doctors any issue… I can’t help but to wonder why that is.” He’s been down here for quite some time, it’s a little shocking he hasn’t shown any kind of anger or at the very least annoyance. But nothing is noted and it makes your brow crease just a little. How odd…

Namjoon let’s out a sigh as the silence continues, and that’s more than enough to draw your attention. He looks… Thoughtful for once as he looks at you. Licking his lips, he shrugs his shoulders as his eyes narrows fractionally.

“Doctor, it’s simply more trouble than it’s worth. I see no positive to being trapped in isolation for days and days. And so, I’m a good boy.” The wording of it is almost cheeky and his tone unusually bright, and you have to stop your mouth from hanging open. The way the corner of his lips upturn, the small indents on his cheeks become apparent, all surprise you to no end. He tilts his head back just slightly, and just as quickly as you see his eyes flash red, it’s gone.

“That would make perfect sense… Except, most other Nightmares tend to lose control of themselves, they can’t help but to cause chaos or violence. You had the perfect opportunity to do so and didn’t…” Your words start to slow as you watch him closely, noting the way his face crumples for a time and then nothing. The blank mask is back as you finish your thought, a completely emotionless Namjoon sitting in place of the ‘good boy’.

“They call me broken. You just explained why perfectly, and still they keep me down here. For what purpose, I do not know.” Broken…? You suppose he doesn’t act like the other Nightmare’s but surely that can’t be a bad thing. Namjoon is the most docile by far, you can’t imagine why him being complacent with the other doctors would cause issue. Differences doesn’t mean that something is broken, what a terrible comparison.

“Being completely honest, I’m unaware as well. Your notes don’t indicate that any of the other doctors think that of you… then again, people seem to like to hide things down here, hm?” A slip of the tongue, but you don’t think it’ll hurt you. You’ve read through all of your patients notes multiple times, and never once had you seen anything about Namjoon being ‘broken’ by their standards. To be honest though, it’s rare you even hear the other doctors talking about the Nightmares. Instead, they like to discuss cheating on their wives or going out to the bar after work.

Namjoon leans in then, a little closer to you than before. He doesn’t smile again, no, but you see his lips twitch ever so slightly as he peers straight into you. You raise a brow in turn, tapping your own against the paper on your lap as you wait for him to speak.

“Hoseok wasn’t wrong when he mentioned you being intuitive. I think you’ll find there are a lot of secrets hidden in these halls doctor.” It should be more surprising than it is, but it’s really not. With the limited access you have on the floor mingled with how the other doctors treat you… You know. You know you’re in the dark, you’re just not sure how much light you have to guide you yet.

Scribbling down a few more notes, you can’t think of anything else to ask, not after that statement. You had gotten what the other doctors wanted anyway, it’s very clear that Namjoon had nothing to do with Yoongi’s need to be free. But, it has become clear that Namjoon is more of a puzzle than you thought. Definitely more of one than the other asshats down here think.

“Is there anything else you’d like to discuss? This was just a quick check in after yesterdays events, but I’m more than willing to listen if you have more to say.” You’ll give him the opportunity just like you gave Yoongi the opportunity. As truthful as you think they’re being, that doesn’t mean they aren’t hiding a mountain of lies they might want to share.

“I have nothing else to say about yesterday.” Nodding your head, you stand up from your spot and close your notes up. Williams had mentioned something about leaving new doc runners in your desk, and you can only begin to guess what they’re for.

“Alright, Namjoon. Remember, if you need me for any reason I’m just a call away. I hope you have a good rest of your day.” Giving him a small wave, you make your way over to the door to signal that you’re ready to go. Before you can knock fully, Namjoon’s deep voice echoes through the room lowly.

“Hmmm, Doctor? One more thing… I advise to keep your guard up. I fear your enemies are slowly growing day by day…” Turning you head to look, it’s then you note that Namjoon is fully standing now. He’s so close to the wall of his cell, practically squishing himself against it as he stares though it. You stare back, a feeling of unease rising in your stomach as his eyes flash red again.

“An intuitive mind doesn’t last long when it can only bounce off of blank walls. You’d do well to remember that.”

#red light ♥️#hoseok x y/n #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts angst #bts fluff #bts horror au #bts monster au

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hertzwritings · 2 years

Text

Pawprints

A/N: My brain is used and rotten by all my professional knowledge at this point in time, so I’m resetting with some good, old fanfiction. It’s the cure all, and I will die on this hill. Prompt: “There’s blood everywhere.”

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you something personalized – the sky is the limit, my loves!

I love y’all so much and I’ve honestly been blown away over the response to some of my stuff lately, so thank you! Remember, feedback feeds the soul (min, in particular) and my requests and askbox are always open – there’s no limits to what you can ask for, because I am me and I have none.

MASTERLIST

CHRIS EVANS MASTERLIST

PROMPTLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Chris Evans x plus sized!Reader

Contains: language, mentions of SMALL injury to Dodger (PROMISE IT’S BARELY A THING), Vetenarian!Reader, flirty Chris, smidge of angst, a lot of fluff

W.C.: 3.000

Pawprints

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, when you moved to a small town just outside of Boston to take over the veterinarian position; at any rate, you were here and it was the quietest job, you’d ever had in your entire life. Mrs. Robinson came in once a week with her poodle, because she convinced herself it was limping (it was not, nor was it the time before that), Mr. Ericsson came in with his parrot, because he needed you to make it stop swearing (it did not, but the parrot did get worse at it) and all in all, you didn’t do much. It was still only a month since you moved to Boxford, and you had wanted the quiet of the small town. It fit you perfectly after a shitty breakup and a shittier job. The quiet of your small home on the outskirts of the town, the living room facing the lake and the forest around it – you might have a shit-ton of handiwork on front of you, because the cabin was overgrown, falling apart at the seams and your foot had gone through a hole in the kitchen floor more times than you could count, but it felt like home.

You sighed and placed the last of your cups in the cupboard, finally emptying the last box – it was a relief to finally be done, especially in the sweltering heat. You felt like you could swim in the amount of sweat, your body had produced; another wonderful aspect of being a bigger girl. You glanced at the clock and decided that it wasn’t late enough to call it a night, and the fact that you hadn’t actually seen more of the town other that the supermarket, your practice and your home, made up your mind to at least see something from the town.

The walk to town wasn’t too long, and the warm evening air felt comfortable on your skin as you trekked through small and narrow streets, the soft noises of the day winding down and the evening kicking in, surrounding you. The town was small and quaint – it was pretty, with soft lights from the streetlights flooding the sidewalk leading to the post-office, while people walked to and from the grocery store, the small restaurant and the park, families hauling blankets and children in their hands. You smiled at them and waved politely at them – your eyes scanned the town square and they landed on a sign to the only bar in town. Perfect.

You stepped inside, the smell of beer and peanuts flooding your senses, and you walked straight to the bar, ignoring the stares that followed you. New people in a small town were bound to draw a few eyes. The bartender smiled politely at you. “What can I get you, doc?” you laughed a little under your breath. “I’m not a doctor, I’m a vet.” “Same difference here.” He winked at you. “What will it be?” “Double whiskey, please.” He nodded and pulled down a bottle from the top shelf, before he winked at you. “You deserve the top shelf-stuff. Don’t worry, no extra charge.” You chuckled and gratefully took the glass from him. Another voice sounded from your left. “Hey, Henry, can I have whatever beer is the coldest?” It sounded familiar. You turned your head a little and almost threw up. Holy shit. Blue eyes locked in with yours, and a soft smile played on his lips. “Hi.” You gulped and tried to fix the sudden dry spot in your throat. “H-hi.” You stuttered. The bartender placed a cold beer in front of him, and turned to you. “Don’t worry too much about it, that’s the general reaction he gets from anyone under the age of 60.” You both laughed at that, and he turned to you fully, extending his hand to you. “Chris.” You nodded. “Kind of knew that.” You grabbed his hand and shook it. It was warm and slightly rough. “I’m Y/N.” “Oh, shit, you’re the new veterinarian, right?” He asked, letting your hand go and grabbed his beer. “Yup.” “Can I ask why on earth you moved here? It’s… Uhm…” he trailed off and you didn’t miss the way his eyes zeroed in on your lips as you licked them. “Uneventful?” He nodded. “Uh, well… I guess I needed it. Besides, it was my old teacher who ran the practice here, and I was pretty close with him, so it seemed perfect for me to take over.” You shrugged. “I have to know though, what you’re doing here? I thought you were a big-city-boy?” He chuckled. “I used to be. I needed the freedom a little, after both L.A. and Boston, I guess. I like to be able to walk Dodger around without having a camera or five in my face.” “That makes sense.” He smiled at you. “Where did you move in? I didn’t think there was any listings in town?” He took a sip, leaning against the bar. His bicep was bulging out of his tight t-shirt and it took you a moment to focus on talking. “Oh, there wasn’t. I actually moved into the lake cabin.” You said and grinned at his expression. “I know, yeah, it has… A few issues.” “Y/N, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it is literally a gust of wind away from collapsing.” You laughed along with him – you felt warm and slightly giddy, while also in awe that this man, this absolute God was talking to you willingly. “Maybe so. But I’m working hard to make it a little sturdier.” You said with a shrug. “It’s a little difficult with a small toolbox from IKEA, but I make do.” “Oh no, that won’t do. You at least need a powerdrill that can do something.” He said with a grin. “My powerdrill is perfect, thank you very much.” You finished your drink and stood. “I should get back, or Mrs. Robinson will be very upset with me tomorrow.” “Of course.” He grinned. “Uh… Can I, maybe walk you home?” he asked, and you were surprised by a soft blush on his cheeks. Without thinking about it, you answered. “Sure. I’m still a little lost on the trails, so…” “Cool. I’ll pay, hang on.” And with that, he paid for both of your drinks and left the bar together.

As soon as you were out of the town center, and the sidewalk turned to gravel under your shoes, you opened your mouth. “So you’re not… Like a serial killer or something, right? Who just uses fame as the best cover ever?” You asked, only halfway joking. He laughed hard, his hand flying to his chest. “No, I’m not, but I commend you for asking the question after we are out of eye and earshot, in the darkness and in the woods. Very good on survival-skills, Y/N.” “Damn, I didn’t even think about that.” You mused. “Well, can we just make a deal that you don’t kill me, then?” “Sure thing.” You walked a little while without talking, until he cleared his throat. “I, uh, I’m sorry if I seemed forward. It’s just a little rare that people my age shows up around here.” “You don’t even know how old I am. Or if I’m single.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “For all you know, I might be 45 and married with seven kids.” He chuckled. “That’s true. So… How old are you, and do you by chance have a husband and seven kids, I need to know about?” You shook your head. “No husband or kids. Thankfully dodged that bullet. And I’m 27.” “Oh wow, you’re younger than I thought you were.” He said quietly. “And what do you mean dodged that bullet? Kids or the husband?” “The husband. I’m not that young, Chris. Full adult here.” “Want to talk about it?” “My age? Pretty self-explanatory. See, I was born…” He laughed and you nudged his shoulder – well, more like his elbow, because he towered well above you. “Ha, ha, funny girl. No, the husband. Or lack of him.” You sighed. “I, uh…” Somehow, you found yourself pretty comfortable with him around, and it seemed as easy as it was talking to your friends back in the city. “Well, we were together for a long time. Almost five years. He proposed and took it back three months later, because he found someone else.” “Ouch.” “Not the worst part, if you can believe it.” You said bitterly. Your house was appearing out of the darkness. “He told me it was because I gained weight. I wasn’t… I don’t know, sexy, I guess, anymore. So, he found a blonde, tall and skinny model-type, who doted on him. More than I did, anyway.” “Holy shit, he’s a douche.” Chris said, stopping dead in his tracks. “I mean, I barely know you and I think you’re a catch.” You felt your cheeks heat up. “Thanks, but you don’t have to say that. I’m pretty used to…” “I’m not saying it out of pity. Seriously, I… Okay, so… You can ask Henry and he’ll tell you I never willingly talk to anyone. You kind of drew me in. He’s a douche, your ex, Y/N.” You scoffed. “I wish I knew that five years ago.” You looked to your house. “Uhm, this is me. I guess I’ll see you around?” He nodded and sent you a boyish smile. “I guess you will. Goodnight, Y/N.” “Goodnight, Chris.” He turned to leave, gravel crunching under his feet, and something clicked inside of you. “Chris, wait!” You yelled after him and jogged to his side. He turned quickly to face you. “Give me your phone.” You asked, and he handed you it willingly. “Why?” He asked, while you punched your number in and gave it back to him. “Uhm… Well, now you have my number. In case, I don’t know, you need some vet-assistance. You can call or text if there’s anything you need.” It was half true – you also just kind of wanted him to have your number. You grinned and he echoed your grin – his eyes lit up even under the cover of darkness. “Well.. Thank you, Y/N. Sleep tight, honey.”

When you laid down in bed, you saw your phone light up with a message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Just in case you need the powerdrill. 😉

------------

It was only two days later, after you had already dozed off, when your phone rang, and Chris’ name lit up your screen. You answered groggily. “I know I said anything you need, but it’s a little late…” you mumbled, rubbing sleep from your eyes. “It’s Dodge.” His voice was panicked. “I don’t know what happened, I don’t… He’s, God, I let him out, and there’s…” He was panicked, that’s for sure. You could hear how shallow his breaths were, and all traces of sleepiness disappeared from your body. You sat straight up and fumbled for your lights, turning them on and quickly throwing your sweatpants and a hoodie on. “Y/N, please, there’s blood everywhere.” “Okay, hay, it’s alright. I’m on my way, okay? Is his breathing normal?” You asked, putting him on speaker to throw your hoodie on. “Yeah, I… yeah, I think so. He’s limping.” You nodded. “Okay, Chris, I need you to text me your address. I’ll drive to you as fast as I can, okay? Make sure he tries to drink some water, and keep an eye on him to see if he gets sleepy.” “Ye-yes, yeah, okay.” He hung up and you practically jumped into your sneakers and out into your car, praying that the piece of shit would start. It did, and you put your phone in the cupholder, GPS on and found the address he had texted you.

You knocked on his door – the big door that belonged to the big house with the other side of the forest behind it – with your go-bag over your shoulder. He opened quickly. “Thank you so much!” His eyes were wide, and he looked just about ready to cry. “Yeah, no problem. Where’s the best boy?” You asked, toeing your shoes off. “In here.” He led you through his hallway to the living room (which was beautiful and kept in neutral colors, with dashes of forest-green added here and there) and your eyes found Dodger immediately. He was laying on the floor next to the fireplace, pawprints of dried blood around him. “Hi, buddy. It’s nice to meet you, yeah?” You slowly extended your hand and he leaned against it, allowing you to scratch him behind the ear. “I had hoped it would be in a different way, but nonetheless…” You let your bag fall to the ground gently, and turned your head to Chris, who was biting his nails. “Chris, can you go and get two clean towels and wet them both?” He nodded and rushed to what you presumed was the kitchen. “Alright, Dodge, what’s up with you, huh? Scaring your dad like that…” You chuckled when his tail wagged. “At least your mood is good.” You looked at his eyes and felt his nose. “Buddy, I’m going to check you, okay? I promise I’ll be good if you don’t bite.” He woofed gently and you took it as a sign of goodwill, and began slowly inching your fingers through his fur, around his neck, down his tail and finally, his paws. “Ah, there’s the culprit.” You mumbled to yourself, and Chris knelt next to you with the towels. “Can you give him one of them to just suck on? Sometimes it’s calming to them, and we’re making sure he’s getting fluids.” He nodded and followed your instructions. “He was outside?” You asked, feeling Dodger’s hindleg. “Yeah, I… I don’t know what happened. It wasn’t more than a minute, and I just looked down and there was blood…” he drew a deep breath and you smiled reassuringly at him. “Dodger is going to be just fine. He got cut by something, see?” You held the paw up, and sure enough, a gash was at the bottom – it wasn’t too deep, and wouldn’t require stiches, because it had already stopped bleeding. “Oh, thank God.” Chris closed his eyes and exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you. I always panic when something happens to him, and I just…” You shook your head. “it’s fine. It’s what I’m here for, remember?” You smiled softly at him. “But we’re not totally in the clear yet. I need to clean the surface of it, and I need to give him a shot, just in case.” Chris paled. “I promise, it’s fine and he won’t even notice me giving him the shot.” “Honestly, it’s not him I’m worried about. It’s me. I hate needles.” He confessed and you laughed a little, nuzzling Dodger’s fur. “Aren’t you covered in tattoos?” You asked, while searching your bag for the necessary things. “Yes, but I don’t see the needle there.” “Ah.” You worked fast and fixed the shot quickly. “Okay, then do me a favor, okay?” He nodded. “I need you to just hold and cuddle Dodge while I give the shot. Don’t look at it, okay, just keep your eyes on me.” “That won’t be a problem.” He said quickly and blushed. “Wow, flirting, are we?” You joked. “Not that I mind.” You added quickly. “I would hope not. I mean… It’s kind of hard not to look at you, have you seen yourself lately? Gorgeous.” He chuckled and held Dodger’s head in his lap. “Okay, just… keep your eyes on me, okay?” You blushed and began stroking a spot on Dodger near his stomach, that made him visibly relax and quickly gave him the shot. He didn’t react at all, and was being a very good boy, even when you cleaned the gash with antibacterial wipes. “Good boy, Dodger!” You praised and both he and his owner seemed happy to receive the praise. “I got you something, boy…” You fumbled for a moment and pulled out one of the surefire winners in the treat-book and gave it to him after Chris nodded to you, agreeing. Dodger took it happily and trotted off in no time, barely limping. Chris fell back against the backside of the couch, closing his eyes.

“Seriously, thank you. I don’t even know what to say other than that.” “No worries, I am here to help.” “I wonder what he stepped on.” “I can help figure it out with you tomorrow?” You suggested with a nervous smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He smiled, and you moved to sit next to him, shaking slightly. “I hope it’s not too much, but, uh… Do you think you can stay for a little while? Just to make sure he’s good?” You nodded. “Of course. Anything.”

And that’s how you spent the night. You moved from the floor and the backside of the couch to actually sitting in the couch after a while, talking easily with him, and flirting even easier – he made you feel safe and comfortable, as you talked and laughed until the sun came up. You talked about everything and nothing, and he was not shy from flirting with you, which you weren’t one to not return tenfold to him.

“You know, we should go find whatever he cut himself on.” Chris said with a slightly hoarse voice. You had talked through the night. “Yeah, and I should get home after. I have a giant hole in my kitchen, I need to fix.” You said, standing up. “I mean… We could come with you? I’m real’ handy, miss.” You laughed. “And Dodger is a pro at finding spiders, so you’ll be spider-free and hopefully hole-free.” Dodger wagged his tail and woofed gently.

How could you say no to that?

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aurore-parle-de-ses-idees · 9 months

Note

Panic, .....Halbarad?

greetings from tur morva! at the very beginning of when Things Start Happening :)

The wind off the lake in the shadow of Methedras is cold, remembering the ice in the heights and the snow on the peaks, but the fires are warm and enough of the people of Tûr Morva are welcoming that they can forget the wind, for a time.

Halbarad waves a greeting to Radanir, who has been in a foul mood for nearing three days now, and continues into the caves where Calenglad had said he would wait. Just inside the heavy door he finds a pile of crates, a familiar cloak draped over one of the stacks.

“Oh! Hello, Ranger,” calls one of the Hebog-lûth girls with a bright smile. “Your friend told me you would be coming; he said he would help Maelona carry some of these crates down into the drier tunnels and join you as soon as he could.”

Halbarad thanks her and steps back outside, the cool air sharp enough to bite but still preferable to the stuffiness of the caves near the entrance. A small bird lands on a low stone wall nearby and looks at Halbarad inquisitively, as if he has some news for it. The Sun comes around the shoulder of the mountain and he lets his hood down, content to soak in whatever warmth she will provide this time of year. Someone calls out once elsewhere in the village. It’s peaceful.

Esterín and Lothrandir pass him, deep in quiet conversation, and enter the caves. Golodir enters the caves as well, bearing a tray of sweet-smelling tarts that steam in the mountain air, stopping just long enough to make a face at Halbarad when he swipes one.

“If you see Calenglad,” Halbarad adds as an afterthought, “tell him I’m only waiting on him.” Golodir eyes him carefully.

“Anything urgent?”

“Next steps,” Halbarad answers. “I am growing anxious to move on.” Golodir nods, some faint wistfulness briefly touching his face, and goes.

Some time later, neither Calenglad nor Golodir have returned from the caves and Halbarad begins to frown. How deep in the caves can they be? Surely it should not have taken this long to move the crates, even if they made several trips.

“Halbarad?” Corunir’s voice stops him. Worried, though he tries to contain it. “Have you seen Golodir? He should have been back by now. Idele is getting impatient; she set aside a tray of berry tarts for him, but they’re getting cold just sitting out.”

“He went down into the caves perhaps an hour ago,” Halbarad says, worry growing in the back of his mind. “I haven’t seen him since.” Neither Esterín nor Lothrandir have come back, either. “Corunir,” he says, very quietly. “Is anyone else unaccounted for?” Corunir’s gaze snaps to him, sharpening at his tone.

“No one has been noticed missing yet,” he says after a moment’s thought. “But I haven’t seen Idhrien or Braigiar in some time, and there are fewer of us about than there should be for the hour.” Halbarad takes the handle of the thick, heavy door that keeps the howling of the wind on one side and the caves on the other. His other hand finds the hilt of his sword. Corunir takes up a position just behind him. “I have not seen the Brenin either,” he says. Halbarad nods grimly.

“Stay close.”

He had hoped it would not come to this. He had taken Lothrandir’s counsel with all the weight it merited, and with his own judgement he had thought the Falcon Clan sincere, even those who had nearly as little love for the Dúnedain as for the White Hand. He had dared, for just a moment, to believe they could find allies here as they had in Lhanuch, and now he can only beg whatever Powers may be listening that it was not the wrong choice.

Calenglad’s cloak is still draped over the crates. No more of them have gone down into the caves.

The upper cells are empty. Halbarad sweeps deeper into the damp caves, Corunir silent at his back and eyes alight with sharp-edged worry.

They come upon a fallen tray, small tarts scattered about and crushed underfoot. There is blood there, too. Halbarad draws his sword. Corunir curses softly behind him. “Go,” Halbarad says under his breath. Corunir turns a sharp look on him, protest already in his eyes. “Now,” Halbarad hisses. “Find anyone still free and leave the village. Find the Rohirrim in the Gravenwood.” Corunir’s eyes flick to the scattered apple tarts. “Corunir, there is no time.” He tries to gentle his voice. “I will find him. You are swifter than me; take everyone you can.” Corunir closes his eyes and whispers a vicious oath.

Someone shouts, deep in the caves, and then Halbarad is running, not looking back to see if Corunir heeds his command. Fear rises in Halbarad’s throat and he crushes it ruthlessly. There will be time enough for that later, but first he must know what has happened.

He turns a corner, and there are five Falcons against three of the Company with naked blades, and he throws himself at their backs sword-first.

But Tirneth still falls heavily to the ground, and more of the warriors of Tûr Morva come down into the caves behind him, and though in their surprise they lose hold of the sons of Elrond, the sound of the fighting draws more attention from other tunnels, and soon they are surrounded. Halbarad fights desperately, panic buzzing from the back of his neck to his sword-hand, but the Falcons are many and this is their territory, and at last someone crashes into the back of his knees and sends him to the ground. A knife is put to his throat and the others are commanded to stand down, and to his great despair, blades clatter to the mossy stone and they are hauled away, one by one, into cold, wet cells to await Lheu Brenin’s pleasure.

#ask games #my stories #i *did* write this on the plane with like. my old notes from the other tur morva thing i wrote and nothing else lol so #if there are inconsistencies oh well #i also tried to work on the other ones and immediately got sidetracked by other project involving halbarad so! this is the presentable one #i think #halbarad #golodir #corunir #ty friend <3

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wordsandrobots · 8 months

Text

IBO reference notes on … the Gundams (part 1)

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Addendum 1]

Or: a spotter’s guide to the Calamity War.

[Note: I tried to post this twice today before figuring out that one of the images was causing it to be consigned to Tumblr oblivion. Apparently a shot of Lt. Crank's gloved hand was too racy for this site. Yeah.]

I said at the time that the fanfic Of Obsessions and Erotemes was written as an alternative to writing an essay expanding on my thoughts regarding the Gundams in Iron-Blooded Orphans. This is probably not strictly accurate, however, and I've been struck by the urge to take a figurative walk through the canonical examples out of the 72 Gundam frame type mobile suits.

I want to focus on the Gundams as they started out during the Calamity War, as far as that is possible, and what this says about the nature of the conflict. I will probably follow up at some point with notes on the mobile armours too, since they are the flip-side of this narrative. As I’ve had cause to mention before, I’m generally content with not knowing too much about the historical event that serves as the basis for IBO’s world-building. I think that adds rather than subtracts from the story. Still, it is fun to play with what we get and piece together an impression of what happened three hundred years prior to the series’ beginning.

For the purposes of not writing a post ten thousand words long, I’ve split the Gundams into three groups based on numerical position in the master list, which is of course taken from the Ars Goetia. Here, I will be drawing on Crowley’s edition.

All images shown here are either borrowed from the Gundam Wiki or are my own screenshots.

As with all my posts like this, spoilers are present for everything.

The Gundam frame

Let’s start with what is under the hood, to whit: the Gundam mobile suit frame.

I covered some of this in my post on the aesthetics of the mobile frame concept, but the most important detail about the Gundam type is how human-like its proportions are, in both limb structure and eye placement. Unlike other frames, this is intended from the start to be used with an Alaya-Vijana system, so designing it to more closely approximate the human form makes a great deal of sense.

At the same time, there is something fittingly demonic about the skeleton, down to the claw-like fingers. However it must be noted that this is specifically Barbatos’ frame; the talons on on the feet are not reflected on the others. Indeed, based on the design work for Kimaris and Flauros, the feet are the part that varies the most from machine to machine.

A Gundam’s power – both in the sense of motive force and superior strength – comes from the twin Ahab reactors making up its torso. It’s the only mobile weapon in Iron-Blooded Orphans confirmed to have multiple reactors, with the implication that this boosts the output beyond simply adding the two together. Indeed, when operating at full capacity against a mobile armour, Barbatos seems barely able to contain its own energies.

Ancillary material states Ahab reactors are made ‘on a plant near a fixed star’, implying a difficult process to begin with (or at least a factory in orbit of the sun). Synchronising the reactors so they run in parallel is adding extra complexity on top of that, which is one of the reasons Gundam construction is a lost art. These things are the peak of mobile suit design and have never been equalled since they quite literally saved the world.

A Gundam, then, is not merely another weapon. It is the maximisation of human capacity, allowing a pilot to exceed their bodily limitations to destroy an inhuman enemy. We don’t know for sure the Calamity War pilots ended up in the same sorry state as Mikazuki (though the taleof Agnika Kaieru’s spirit residing inside Bael carries some interesting implications). But we do know the Alaya-Vijnana places extraordinary pressure on human physiology by its very nature, and the Gundams themselves come with competing limiters as a result. One that disengages in proximity to a mobile armour, allowing the full force of the reactors to be unleashed; another that switches on at that point, to stop this burst of power immediately overwhelming the operator. Only by accepting the danger can the pilot proceed with their attack.

It’s a duality of ultimate strength and ultimate risk that makes the Gundam frames seem like suitably desperate creations. They are the demons that prevented total apocalypse, while consuming their pilots body and soul.

ASW-G-01 Bael

The first king of the Hell, and therefore presumably the first Gundam to have been constructed. From latter machines, there is the suggestion that deployment order did not match the numerical codes, so it isn’t entirely clear if we can solidly say they are numbered in the order they were built. But it seems reasonable to assume that this represents the start of Gundam operational history.

If we can take Bael to exist in the present exactly as it did in the War, it is a relatively simple affair, sporting nothing more flashy than a pair of wing-like boosters (I say wing-like purely because they are not functionally wings; they’re more an elaborate jet-pack). From a design point of view, Bael otherwise matches exactly to the template set by the series’ hero machine, Barbatos: the armour and thruster placement is identical and we may take this to be the default.

The combat philosophy behind this machine appears to be the same too: strike fast and strike sharp. It follows that Agnika Kaieru was the kind to lead from the front. Indeed, kit manual text makes it clear he was self-sufficient in battle, taking down mobile armours solely with his twin swords. Given McGillis holds his own against an entire fleet for a while, this doesn’t feel like a stretch and it certainly explains why the man became such a legend.

The symbol on Bael’s left shoulder is the original Gjallarhorn logo, which more directly presents the source of the organisation’s name: the horn that sounds Ragnarök. This would later be elaborated into the flag used in the present while remaining as a some sort of badge/pin or medal on officers’ uniforms. I find that fitting, that something simple would be built up over time into a grander image, disguising the root truth. In many ways, that sums up Bael’s place in history.

From the Ars Goetia:

The first Principal Spirit is a King ruling in the East, called Bael. He maketh thee to go Invisible. He ruleth over 66 Legions of Infernal Spirits. He appeareth in divers shapes, sometimes like a Cat, sometimes like a Toad, and sometimes like a Man, and sometimes all these forms at once. He speaketh hoarsely. This is his character which is used to be worn as a Lamen before him who calleth him forth, or else he will not do thee homage.

Notably, the sigil used for Gundam Bael’s interface does not simply replicate the 'canonical’ seal from the Ars Goetia but rather reinterprets it.

Clearly OG Gjallarhorn had graphic designers on staff. Also, Bael’s main console screen is of a uniquely narrow design, in a rather elaborate housing. It would seem the cockpits were refined for later models, simplifying things towards a standard pattern seen in Kimaris and Gusion that would itself go on to become the standard for Gjallarhorn 'suits.

ASW-G-04 Gamigin

Pretty much all we know about Gamigin is that it exists, it was originally piloted by Kalf Falk and it made it out of the Calamity War in one piece. Oh and someone in the armoury department was having a laugh the day they issued this Gundam its weapons.

Seriously though, if Bael is the default, this is a heavy-duty model. Gamigin looks a hell of a lot less manoeuvrable, even accounting for the extra thrusters built into its skirt, and its standard-sized arms appear positively weedy compared to the heft of the body and legs. Clearly though, that was a trade-off deemed acceptable for the sake of destructive capacity.

The giant Gatling gun speaks for itself, but the revolver axe is the more interesting item here. As silly as it looks, it’s represents the (presumed) earliest incorporation of Dàinsleif weaponry into a Gundam frame mobile suit.

'Dàinsleif’ is a term used to refer to anything that launches javelin-like projectiles at high speed with the intent of puncturing nano-laminate armour. It’s unclear if the present ban on their use extends to smaller-scale versions like this, which is a point-blank deployment of the technology.

The blunt side of that axe is designed to strike an enemy and fire a spike straight through it. Crude but effective. Or so we can assume given this machine was piloted by one of the first Seven Stars and therefore must have destroyed a great many mobile armours.

From the Ars Goetia (Samigina/Gamigin):

The Fourth Spirit is Samigina, a Great Marquis. He appeareth in the form of a little Horse or Ass, and then into Human shape doth he change himself at the Request of the Master. He speaketh with a hoarse voice. He ruleth over 30 Legions of Inferiors. He teaches all Liberal Sciences, and giveth account of Dead Souls that died in sin. And his Seal is this, which is to be worn before the Magician when he is Invocator, etc.

This is one of several demons with multiple names listed in the Ars Goetia. There doesn’t appear to be any pattern to which was picked as the ID for the corresponding Gundam.

ASW-G-08 Barbatos

Teiwaz are stated to have restored Barbatos to its original state so we can assume the 4th form represents the version that fought in the Calamity War. Given this, it likely used a katana in battle, as the sword Teiwaz provides bears the same logo as the 'suit and we know from their work on Flauros that Gundams store information about their own weaponry (see also Mikazuki’s sudden competence with it when he connects deeper to Barbatos).

Intriguingly, with the retroactive introduction of predecessor designs, it appears Barbatos takes cues from both Bael and Gamigin, which ties these three low-numbered models together nicely. It is also relatively unspecialised in comparison, lacking the features that mark out the previous two. When found, it had a small buckler shield built into a gauntlet on its left forearm, similar to those the 5th form in the series would use. However, there’s no indication if this was used as a mount for mortars like the later version, leaving us with a machine that appears to have been a simple melee combatant.

The absence of gimmicks showcases just how powerful Gundams are in comparison to other mobile suits, at a baseline. In any given fight during Season 1, Barbatos is faster, stronger, and more adaptable than its opposition, and while we see it built up with add-ons over the course of the series, those often seem to get in the way or provide only passing advantages.

Since my focus is on the Calamity War, I’m not going to go into any detail regarding the Lupus and Lupus Rex forms. But I will posit the idea Barbatos’ original pilot was of a different temperament to Mikazuki. If it is indeed their 'ghost’ who comes to his aid in Edmonton – some trace left behind in the system that allows him to understand the katana in the nick of time – they seem to have been a master of that weapon, favouring lethal precision, in stark contrast to Mikazuki’s gradual transformation into an animalistic, living weapon.

(The mace that Mikazuki leads with seems to have been something Maruba bought for possible use if he could ever get Barbatos running, rather than a relic of it previous operations.)

From the Ars Goetia:

The Eighth Spirit is Barbatos. He is a Great Duke, and appeareth when the Sun is in Sagittary, with four noble Kings and their companies of great troops. He giveth understanding of the singing of Birds, and of the Voices of other creatures, such as the barking of Dogs. He breaketh the Hidden Treasures open that have been laid by the Enchantments of Magicians. He is of the Order of Virtues, of which some part he retaineth still; and he knoweth all things Past, and to Come, and conciliateth Friends and those that be in Power. He ruleth over 30 Legions of Spirits. His Seal of Obedience is this, the which wear before thee as aforesaid.

Again, we see a redesign of the seal for Gundam Barbatos’ start-up sigil.

I like the choice to make the lines more dynamic.

ASW-G-11 Gusion

We don’t know if this is what Gusion started out looking like. Gusion was found in a debris zone and passed through various hands before it reached the Brewers, and we know the Brewers’ Man Rodis are custom jobs, more heavily armoured than standard Rodi frame models. On balance, this is probably something they cooked up to fit their requirements.

But gives us an idea of the limits of a Gundam frame’s flexibility. The arms and legs have been stretched outwards from the main body to accommodate the armour load-out. You can see a glimpse of the piston that operates the hip joint under the skirt in the image above, providing a sense of where the legs have been moved. Quite how this works is unclear since we only see the head exposed when the Turbines start deconstructing this form. The fact it does work emphasises just how far the Gundams can be reconfigured. The Turbines even go so far as installing extra arms into the Rebake version given to Akihiro, seemingly with no issues at all.

Gusion also provides an example of the fate suffered by quite a number of the Gundam frames: that of being lost and forgotten after battles during the Calamity War. The figure provided for how many frames are known to have survived is 26, but it’s unclear where that sits in the timeline of IBO canon, throughout which several Gundams are uncovered from previously hidden resting places. Certainly it appears only a minority of such 'suits remain in Gjallarhorn’s custody. While some have most likely been destroyed outright, many may still be drifting among debris fields or buried at the sites of battles from three hundred years ago.

It’s a neat conceit, leaving fertile ground for fanfiction or spin-offs to play on, and underscores that these machines belong to a bygone era most have forgotten about.

From the Ars Goetia:

The Eleventh Spirit in order is a great and strong Duke, called Gusion. He appeareth like a Xenopilus. He telleth all things, Past, Present and to Come, and showeth the meaning and resolution of all questions thou mayest ask. He conciliateth and reconcileth friendships, and giveth Honour and Dignity unto any. He ruleth over 40 Legions of Spirits. His Seal is this, the which wear as aforesaid.

The connection between the machine or pilot and the Ars Goetia descriptions is somewhat variable throughout this list. In some instances there’s nothing obvious at all. However, I love that Gusion bestows honour and dignity because of how beautifully it ties into Akihiro’s arc. This said … I don’t actually know what a 'Xenopilus’ is. My first thought was 'Xenopus’ and a frog motif certainly would explain Gundam Gusion’s appearance. But I don’t think that’s right? Answers on a postcard, please.

That’s where we’ll leave things for today. I will probably post the next instalment sometime tomorrow.