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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 months

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Kelly and Zach Weinersmith’s “A City On Mars”

In A City On Mars, biologist Kelly Weinersmith and cartoonist Zach Weinersmith set out to investigate the governance challenges of the impending space settlements they were told were just over the horizon. Instead, they discovered that humans aren't going to be settling space for a very long time, and so they wrote a book about that instead:

https://www.acityonmars.com/

The Weinersmiths make the (convincing) case that ever aspect of space settlement is vastly beyond our current or reasonably foreseeable technical capability. What's more, every argument in favor of pursuing space settlement is errant nonsense. And finally: all the energy we are putting into space settlement actually holds back real space science, which offers numerous benefits to our species and planet (and is just darned cool).

Every place we might settle in space – giant rotating rings, the Moon, Mars – is vastly more hostile than Earth. Not just more hostile than Earth as it stands today – the most degraded, climate-wracked, nuke-blasted Earth you can imagine is a paradise of habitability compared to anything else. Mars is covered in poison and the sky disappears under planet-sized storms that go on and on. The Moon is covered in black-lung-causing, razor-sharp, electrostatically charged dust. Everything is radioactive. There's virtually no water. There are temperature swings of hundreds of degrees every couple of hours or weeks. You're completely out of range of resupply, emergency help, or, you know, air.

There's Helium 3 on the Moon, but not much of it, and there is no universe in which is it cheaper to mine for Helium 3 on the Moon than it is to mine for it on Earth. That's generally true of anything we might bring back from space, up to and including continent-sized chunks of asteroid platinum.

Going to space doesn't end war. The countries that have gone to space are among the most militarily belligerent in human history. The people who've been to space have come back perfectly prepared to wage war.

Going to space won't save us from the climate emergency. The unimaginably vast trove of material and the energy and advanced technology needed to lift it off Earth and get it to Mars is orders of magnitude more material and energy than we would need to resolve the actual climate emergency here.

We aren't anywhere near being a "multiplanetary species." The number of humans you need in a colony to establish a new population is hard to estimate, but it's very large. Larger than we can foreseeably establish on the Moon, on Mars, or on a space-station. But even if we could establish such a colony, there's little evidence that it could sustain itself – not only are we a very, very long way off from such a population being able to satisfy its material needs off-planet, but we have little reason to believe that children could gestate, be born, and grow to adulthood off-planet.

To top it all off, there's space law – the inciting subject matter for this excellent book. There's a lot of space law, and while there are some areas of ambiguity, the claims of would-be space entrepreneurs about how their plans are permissible under the settled parts of space law don't hold up. But those claims are robust compared to claims that space law will simply sublimate into its constituent molecules when exposed to the reality of space travel, space settlement, and (most importantly) space extraction.

Space law doesn't exist in a vacuum (rimshot). It is parallel to – and shares history with – laws regarding Antarctica, the ocean's surface, and the ocean's floor. These laws relate to territories that are both vastly easier to access and far more densely populated by valuable natural resources. The fact that they remain operative in the face of economic imperatives demands that space settlement advocates offer a more convincing account than "money talks, bullshit walks, space law is toast the minute we land on a $14 quadrillion platinum asteroid."

The Weinersmiths have such an account in defense of space law: namely, that space law, and its terrestrial analogs, constitute a durable means of resolving conflicts that would otherwise give rise to outcomes that are far worse for science, entrepreneurship, human thriving or nation-building than the impediments these laws represent.

What's more, space law is enforceable. Not only would any space settlement be terribly, urgently dependent on support from Earth for the long-foreseeable future, but every asteroid miner, Lunar He3 exporter and Martian potato-farmer hoping to monetize their products would have an enforcement nexus with a terrestrial nation and thus the courts of that nation.

But the Weinersmiths aren't anti-space. They aren't even anti-space-settlement. Rather, they argue that the path to space-based scientific breakthroughs, exploration of our solar system, and a deeper understanding of our moral standing in a vast universe cannot start with space settlements.

Landing people on the Moon or Mars any time soon is a stunt – a very, very expensive stunt. These boondoggles aren't just terribly risky (though they are – people who attempt space settlement are very likely to die horribly and after not very long), they come with price-tags that would pay for meaningful space science. For the price of a crewed return trip to Mars, you could put multiple robots onto every significant object in our solar system, and pilot an appreciable fleet of these robot explorers back to Earth with samples.

For the cost of a tiny, fraught, lethal Moon-base, we could create hundreds of experiments in creating efficient, long-term, closed biospheres for human life.

That's the crux of the Weinersmiths' argument: if you want to establish space settlements, you need to do a bunch of other stuff first, like figure out life-support, learn more about our celestial neighbors, and vastly improve our robotics. If you want to create stable space-settlements, you'll need to create robust governance systems – space law that you can count on, rather than space law that you plan on shoving out the airlock. If you want humans to reproduce in space – a necessary precondition for a space settlement that lasts more than a single human lifespan – then we need to do things like breed multiple generations of rodents and other animals, on space stations.

Space is amazing. Space science is amazing. Crewed scientific space missions are amazing. But space isn't amazing because it offers a "Plan B" for an Earth that is imperiled by humanity's recklessness. Space isn't amazing because it offers unparalleled material wealth, or unlimited energy, or a chance to live without laws or governance. It's not amazing because it will end war by mixing the sensawunda of the "Pale Blue Dot" with the lebensraum of an infinite universe.

A science-driven approach to space offers many dividends for our species and planet. If we can figure out how to extract resources as dispersed as Lunar He3 or asteroid ice, we'll have solved problems like extracting tons of gold from the ocean or conflict minerals from landfill sites, these being several orders of magnitude more resource-dense than space. If we can figure out how to create self-sustaining terraria for large human populations in the radiation-, heat- and cold-blasted environs of space, we will have learned vital things about our own planet's ecosystems. If we can build the robots that are necessary for supporting a space society, we will have learned how to build robots that take up the most dangerous and unpleasant tasks that human workers perform on Earth today.

In other words, it's not just that we should solve Earth's problems before attempting space settlement – it's that we can't settle space until we figure out the solutions to Earth's problems. Earth's problems are far simpler than the problems of space settlement.

As I read the Weinersmiths' critique of space settlement, I kept thinking of the pointless AI debates I keep getting dragged into. Arguments for space settlement that turn on existential risks (like humanity being wiped out by comets, sunspots, nuclear armageddon or climate collapse) sound an awful lot like the arguments about "AI safety" – the "risk" that the plausible sentence generator is on the verge of becoming conscious and turning us all into paperclips.

Both arguments are part of a sales-pitch for investment in commercial ventures that have no plausible commercial case, but whose backers are hoping to get rich anyway, and are (often) sincerely besotted with their own fantasies:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Both AI and space settlement pass over the real risks, such as the climate consequences of their deployment, or the labor conditions associated with their production. After all, when you're heading off existential risk, you don't stop to worry about some carbon emissions or wage theft.

And critically, both ignore the useful (but resolutely noncommercial) ways that AI or space science can benefit our species. AI radiology analysis might be useful as an adjunct to human radiological analysis, but that is more expensive, not less. Space science might help us learn to use our materials more efficiently on Earth, and that will come long before anyone makes rendezvous with a $14 quadrillion platinum asteroid.

There are beneficial uses for LLMs. When the Human Rights Data Analysis Group uses an LLM to help the Innocence Project New Orleans extract and categorize officer information from wrongful conviction records, they are doing something valuable and important:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

It's socially important work, a form of automation that is an unalloyed good, but you won't hear about it from LLM advocates. No one is gonna get rich on improving the efficiency of overturning wrongful convictions with natural language processing. You can't inflate a stock bubble with the Innocence Project.

By the same token, learning about improving gestational health by breeding multigenerational mouse families in geosynchronous orbit is no way to get a billionaire tech baron to commit $250 billion to space science. But that's not an argument against emphasizing real science that really benefits our whole species. It's an argument for taking away capital allocation authority from tech billionaires.

I'm a science fiction writer. I love stories about space. But I can distinguish fantasy from reality and thought experiments from suggestions. Kim Stanley Robinson's 2015 novel Aurora – about failed space settlement – is every bit as fascinating and inspirational as "golden age" sf:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/11/02/kim-stanley-robinsons-aurora-space-is-bigger-than-you-think/

But still, it inspired howls of outrage from would-be space colonists. So much so that Stan wrote a brilliant essay explaining what we were all missing about space settlement, which I published:

https://boingboing.net/2015/11/16/our-generation-ships-will-sink.html

With City on Mars, the Weinersmiths aren't making the case for giving up on space, nor are they trying to strip space of its romance and excitement. They're trying to get us to focus on the beneficial, exciting, serious space science we can do right now, not just because it's attainable and useful – but because it is a necessary precondition for any actual space settlement in the distant future.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

#pluralistic #books #reviews #space #bezzles #mars #spacex #robots #science #space science #space travel #space settlement #space colonization

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motherofdogs1010 · 3 months

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Of Messiahs and Seeds I (Dark!Paul Atreides x Reader)

Summary: Emperor Paul of House Atreides has set forth with expansion of his empire on the planets that have resisted and has now come across the last stronghold that resists him: Terra Millennium...

Warnings: eventual 18+, dark!fic, eventual forced marriage, eventual NONCON, eventual pregnancy, dark!Paul Atreides, more to come as story progresses

A/N: Reader is inspired by Daenarys Targaryen with dragons and Sailor Moon's Silver Crystal lol, so I hope you all enjoy!! Terra is similar to Earth, I imagined Lord York to be Tyrion Lannister so please picture that

😈 Dividers by @firefly-graphics 😈 Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Part II

"Terra Millennium stands as a enomely in the universe for their rejection against the Empire", the hologram records said. "A two-century long battle was waged for the planet through the Great Houses yet the people won through the help of someone they have since called 'The Conqueror'."

Paul had heard of the Terra Millennium, their planet one of lush greenery, vast oceans and an abundance of resources that the previous Emperor had tried countless times to harvest just as House Harkonnen had done with the Spice on Arrakis, but alas, no one had ever been successful in mining Terra Millennium. He had heard that they experience something called 'seasons', he wondered what that was.

Just as he had done with Arrakis, Paul sat in his private room, watching hologram clips of Terra Millennium as his fleet flew to the planet to finally land conquest through the help of the Fremen.

"Anthropologists have never been able to stay long on the planet or among the people, but what has been gathered is the people have rejected the teachings of the Bene Gesserit, labeling it as hertic literature."

Terra Millennium was an odd planet with an odd people who had unusually long live spans, being able to live into their thousands without a single wrinkle or grey, they repented against the Bene Gesserit, the use of the Spice; he had heard of the people of that land believing solely in the ruling Queens because of a crystal, one of immense power that was sought after.

"Characterized by their white hair, the ruling House of L/N have upheld the traditional values of the planet, which has a population of over 1 billion. Only female heirs have been able to inherit the throne and it is rumored that a single crystal that is worn by every ruling Queen is said to hold immense power that has granted its people longevity, peace and prosperity."

A knock interrupted his research, Paul seeing Stilgar walk in followed by Gurney.

"Muad'Dib, we have touched land on Terra Millennium", Stilgar said, "they have responded to our communication message."

"What did they say?" he asked, Gurney chuckled.

"They said if we proceed with our mission, they will see it as an act of war", Gurney said, "they're real hard asses here."

"You've been, Gurney?" Paul asked, curious.

"Once", Gurney replied, "I came with your father on a diplomatic assignment, but that was with their previous Queen Helene. This one is new, just coronated a few months ago."

He thought back to the new dreams he had been having of a woman whose hair was the color of white that hung down near the ground in large curls, whose eyes were hard and the color of lilac with the roar of a great beast that rung in his ears when he would awaken from his dreams.

Unlike his dreams with Chani, these felt different now that he had drunken the Water of Life. His visions of the woman consisted of a gentle breeze sweeping through her hair, it curling around her as she was dressed in a long, white silk dress that clung to her body and trailed in a long train behind her with woven golden in the upper bodice. She stood on a tall pillar of crystal, a tall scepter in her hands that she was raising above her head as the breeze picked up.

Soon, the dreams melted in a great war as crystals encapsulating him, a bright light that blinded him yet filled him with warmth and security.

"Show them the full might of the Empire", Paul said, "after all, they are in the presence of the Muad'Dib."

And it was those eyes that greeted him when he finally set foot on the pavement of Terra Millennium with its tall structures that were made of variously colored crystals.

Neo-Queen Amaris was the regal name Y/N had chosen to go by when she took the throne a mere few months ago. Of course, she went by her name, Y/N in private with those closets to her and only by her regal name with others.

Y/N had heard the rumors of the new Emperor wanting to claim her home, her people; he wanted to bring her planet into the vastly growing empire that he ruled under as a supposed Messiah to the Fremen and Bene Gesserit: Muad'Dib. Everyone had heard of how he supposedly liberated Arrakis and the Fremen people, marrying Princess Irulan as a political move to secure his position as the new Emperor.

Only a few days ago did a message come into their Communication's Hub from the Emperor about finally claiming Terra Millennium for not only himself but for the Fremen as it would be their 'Green Paradise'.

War will come to Terra Millennium if you refuse to submit, the message read.

"My Queen", her advisor, Lord York, said as she sat on her throne. "Reports have come in that the Atreides fleet has made contact on the landing pad near the Capital. Scouts have seen the Atreides Army beginning to get ready."

Lord York was a man of small stature with a head full of bronze curls and dark brown eyes that always looked calculated as if he was already ten steps ahead.

Y/N looked over at Lord York before bringing a hand to the crystal that hung around her neck on a chain that could never be removed from her neck before slowly standing up from her throne that was encrusted in gemstones.

"I believe it is time we greet them", she said, looking over her court. "After all, hospitality is what our people are known for."

And it is not like they have any chance of having their weapons working; outside weaponry not from Terra M had no chance of working and she wondered what their reactions would be once they realized this.

"But before we go", Lord York said, "may I make a suggestion?"

Y/N made a motion to the man, who gave a nod and said, "I believe it is our Queen's best interest to wear your ancestor, The Conqueror's crown and scepter to greet our guests. It would show the great strength you possess, a message to not only the Great Houses but the Emperor as well."

"That sounds like a great idea."

"You are the presence of our Neo-Queen", a man said with a thick facial beard, "first of her name, descendant of our goddess Selene and The Conqueror, wielder of the great Silver Crystal, Mother of all, Neo-Queen Amaris."

Paul watched as the man motioned to the woman he had been dreaming about, he could see that as the breeze came that she wore no shoes; all the Terrians didn't despite their silken clothes as they stood amongst the tall crystal structures. They had landed as close to the Capital, finding that there was a landing pad despite the relatively isolated nature of the planet.

"I welcome you, Paul of House Atreides", she said with a stoic expression. "But now you must leave."

The woman, their Queen Amaris, looked upon them with a hint of annoyance as she held a large scepter in one hand that was as tall as Duncan Idaho had been with gold and gem embellishments, but what was curious was that at the top of the scepter where it looked as if a missing piece was needed. The crown she wore on her head was large, glittering in diamonds and curved up into a point as she stood there, her hair having a few small braids that pulled the framing hair away with kiss curls on her forehead.

"Leave?" Paul said with some amusement.

Irulan stood next to him dressed in a silver mesh outfit, a metal hair net that connected over into her dress that held down her short blonde hair. Paul was glad that he Voiced the woman to stop talking, she would not stop and frankly, he had no desire to try and pursue a romantic relationship with the woman after Chani chose to leave further into Arrakis.

His mother stood amongst them, holding the bundled form of his sister, Alia.

"I did not realize a Emperor could have poor hearing", Amaris said, "you are not welcome on Terra Millennium nor do we plan on allowing for you to colonize us. Terra M remains alone."

Paul took in the way she spoke, her accent one he had never heard before and the formal way of speaking. He noticed the large gem that hung around her neck, it sparkled in the sunlight as she stood there and looked to be the size of a her palm.

"Also, we did not apperciate your Bene Gesserit coming", she continued, "spreading their heretic language, you will find them in the Prisoner's Bay."

"You don't believe in the Muad'Dib, the Kwisatz Haderach?" Paul asked.

"We believe in our Queen, may her reign be as prosperous as Selene", the bearded man said.

The Queen just looked at him with contempt, he saw her lip curl a little in annoyance.

And it was that look that made something stir deep in Paul and made him feel something that he never felt before. She looked at him as if he was a bug ready to be squashed underneath her foot

He wanted to possess the woman in front of him, at all costs and he didn't care who he had to kill... he was going to.

#paul atreides #paul atredies x reader #dune #dune x reader #x reader #reader insert #timothee chalamet #chubby reader #smut #dune imagine #dune part two #dune part ii #duneimagine #dark!fic #dark!paulatreides #yandere #yanderexreader

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harunayuuka2060 · 4 months

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*In the NRC Groupchat*

Malleus: @Everyone

Malleus: @MC

*Everyone is online.*

Jade: Oya?

Kalim: Hello guys!

Jamil: Hello.

Riddle: What's going on, Malleus-senpai?

Azul: It seems we are here to witness something.

Everyone (except Malleus): ^

Sebek: @MC Waka-sama has separately mentioned you! Where are you?!

Ace: They'll be here in a moment. They need to finish Professor Trein's project. It's due today.

Deuce: Yeah.

Sebek: Hmph! Is that project more important than Waka-sama?!

Lilia: Sebek.

Ace: MC wanted to say that of course not, but they need to submit this because they don't want to be held back.

Riddle: I agree. Education is important.

Vil: Anyway...

Vil: Is there something you need to tell them, Malleus?

Malleus: Yes.

Malleus: I can start now.

Malleus: They can read this later.

Malleus: @MC

Malleus: In this vast universe

Malleus: Among the many stars

Malleus: In a single vast blue planet

Leona: I'm starting to feel the cringe.

Idia: Fr fr

Ortho: Brother...

Lilia: Can you not interrupt Malleus? :)

Cater: XD

Ruggie: Shishishi XD Leona is just bitter.

Leona: What did you say?

Ruggie: Wrong sent.

Vil: Malleus, you should continue.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: My small feelings of love would reach

Malleus: to that tiny island where you are

Ace: Damn

Ace: @MC He's criticizing the dorm you're in

Riddle: Off with your head, Ace!

Ace: Wh-What? I'm not doing anything!

Floyd: Crabby~

Ace: Okay! Okay! I'll shut up!

Deuce: Suits you well.

Ace: Shut up!

Malleus: Time had passed since I met you

Malleus: And the letters adorning our feelings are also increasing

Everyone: !!!

Kalim: OMG!!!! YOU TWO ARE DATING?!!

Lilia: *happy emoji*

Silver: Ah. That's why I've been seeing you writing letters every week.

Leona: I knew it. Cringe.

Rook: Non! That is such a sweet gesture!

Idia: Yeah. For you. Because you're a romantic.

Azul: This is interesting. Don't you think, @Jade ?

Jade: Yes. ^^

Floyd: But why though~?

Jamil: Maybe both of them are trying to keep it a secret.

Ace: It's not effective then.

Ace: Especially when MC gets a hickey after leaving Diasomnia.

Riddle: ACE!

Ace: What is it this time?!

Trey: Ace, I would appreciate it, really, if you would keep quiet for a while.

*Ortho muted Ace.*

Ruggie: Lol.

Ortho: Please continue, Malleus Draconia.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Someday, they will echo unnoticed in our hearts

Malleus: At times violently, at times sorrowfully

Malleus: They will echo faraway, into the far-off distance

Malleus: This tender song will change world

Malleus: Look now

Malleus: the person who you cherish

Malleus: Is right beside you

Leona: 😒

*Ortho muted Leona*

Lilia: Thank you, Ortho! ^^

Ortho: You're welcome! ^^

Malleus: I wish for this to reach just you

Malleus: Resonate, my song of love

MC: ...

MC: @Malleus stop

Malleus: ...

Everyone: ...

Malleus: Why?

Sebek: HUMAN! YOU'RE MAKING THE YOUNG MASTER CRY!

Silver: Sebek.

*MC has started a group video call.*

*Everyone has joined the group video call.*

*MC smiles at the camera*

MC: You beat me to it, Malleus.

MC: *continues the song Malleus shared in the chat*

Look now...

Resound, my song of love

You come to realise,

that even when the two of us should walk a dark road

The moon would illuminate our days

Never letting go of your hand I've clasped

Our feelings are strong

and we vow it's for all eternity

In the depths of eternity

I will surely say the exact same words

with my feelings still the same

But those words will never cease

they will turn into tears

Then to joy

Unable to speak

I'll just embrace you

Look now

the person who you cherish

Is right beside you

I wish

for this to reach just you

Resonate, my song of love

Look now...

Resound, my song of love

If it's a dream don't wake me up

the time I've spent with you

Shall become a star

shining eternally

Look now

The person who you cherish

is right beside you

I wish

for this to reach just you

Oh resound, my song of love

Look now

the person who you cherish

Is right beside you

I wish

for this to reach just you

Resonate, my song of love

Look now...

Look now!

MC: *catches their breath then laughs*

Malleus: ...

*Malleus hung up*

Everyone: Where did he go?

Malleus: *then appearing with MC* *throwing himself to them*

MC: Oof!

Malleus: I love you.

Lilia: *sniffles* I'm so glad I get to see this.

Sebek: Waka-sama... I'm so happy for you... *holding back his tears*

Silver: Please excuse me for interrupting, but you might want to end the call first.

Floyd: Eh~ But we want to watch~

MC: Haha, you wouldn't "like" to watch us, Floyd.

Malleus: *looks at the camera and reaches to end the video call*

*Back in the groupchat*

Ruggie: I bet you 30 madols, they're being lovey-dovey right now.

Idia: You didn't have to bet for something like that.

Ortho: They're kissing on the grounds of Ramshackle dorm.

Everyone: 😶

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst malleus #twst nrc #【Original PV 】Little love song/ MONGOL 800 (cover) by Amatsuki

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hey-august · 5 months

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A Favor for the Captain - Chapter 1 | NSFW (Buggy x afab!reader)

Description: You expected to spend night duty alone, but your captain decides to keep you company. Together you enjoy some light hearted conversation and silly jokes, before Buggy asks for an unexpected, but not unwelcome, favor. Word count: Just under 2.5k A/N: This is probably just going to be 2 chapters. I have the next chapter outlined, so hopefully it'll be ready to post soon. Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x afab!reader, no use of Y/N, dry humping, bad jokes, pathetic and embarrassed buggy because he's bad at communicating. All parties are consenting adults.

→ Chapter 2

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Make good choices!” you called out to your crewmates as they streamed off the ship and into the night. It had been ages since any of you had free time and most of the crew chose to spend it in town, savoring goods and experiences that were sparse out at sea. Fresh food, endless alcohol, and sex with people you didn’t work with.

You, on the other hand, were stuck on the ship. Your freedom was clipped short when you were put on night guard duty. Someone had to mind the ship at night and it fell to the new recruit who didn’t know they should lie about already having plans. Secretly, you didn’t mind. There was supposed to be a meteor shower soon and this gave you an excuse to look for the shooting stars.

The dark and quiet night draped over the ship, a heavy blanket that muffled the soft crashes of sea. A soft breeze danced through the palm trees on the shore, moving them in time with the echoes of music and laughter that drifted from town. You were laid out on the deck, positioned to search the sky. Each pinprick of light was still in place, almost mocking you for remaining on the ship and not exploring elsewhere. As if you had a choice.

Lost in thought and drifting among the constellations, you missed the sound of footsteps approaching your solo viewing party. They moved in time with the sound of waves, a natural ability from someone bound to the sea. Eventually you realized that the feeling of being watched wasn’t pouring from the watchful moon and stars, but from a presence nearby.

Your captain broke into a grin at the sight of your panicked double-take. The first look expressed confusion and the second carried fear. Neither were emotions that were foreign to him, the pirate clown has seen both directed at him many times before. But watching your head whip around to confirm it was the captain and the way your eyes widened was downright comical.

Before you could scramble to your feet, Buggy crouched next to you. You sat up and surveyed his face, trying to assess how absolutely fucked you were. Honestly, it was hard to read anything past the fake smile painted on his face, but he looked more bemused than pissed. This could work in your favor.

“So…guard duty?” Buggy broke the silence first.

You cringed, unsure how to answer. How could you convince the captain you were on duty when you didn’t even hear him walk over? The guy wears heavy boots. On the plus side, he wasn’t wearing his coat full of knives, bombs, and other superfluous noise makers. Even still, that wasn’t enough of an excuse.

“What were you even looking at?” he questioned, each word emphasized by his mischievous smile.

“The stars,” you answered, glancing back up at the silent audience. At the edge of your vision, you saw Buggy also turn towards the sky. “There are supposed to be shooting stars, but I haven’t seen any.”

“Ever?” He turned his attention back to you. The question caught you off-guard and you shook your head.

“Damn, if I had the right prop I could make your night.” Buggy could see the gears turning in your head, producing a complete lack of understanding. He sighed disappointedly and mimed shooting at the sky before gesturing at himself. “Shooting…star…” It was so obvious.

You groaned and covered your face, not sure if your laughter was because it was actually a good joke, or because Buggy delivered the gag like it was. Satisfied with your response, Buggy joined you in sitting on the wooden floor and looked back at the sky.

Massaging the rest of the laughter out of your cheeks, you turned towards your captain. “Have you ever seen one? A real shooting star?”

“Countless times. They’re really a sight to see…the stars know how to put on a show.”

In the corner of his eye, Buggy saw you nod as he spoke, noting how you gazed at him a moment longer than usual. Normally the attention would make Buggy feel self-conscious, but the air between you two felt comfortable. It always did. Not that you two interacted much, but he picked up on your calm composure, even when he was wreaking havoc on the crew. Even now, as you eased yourself back into lying on the floor, you exuded a sense of peace. Moving naturally, as if you were hanging out with a close friend and not your boss. Maybe this was all conjured by the loneliness in his head. Still, Buggy indulged in the atmosphere. He joined you in spreading out on the floor for a better view of the sky and there you both lay, under boundless celestial nightlights.

“Do you know the names of the constellations?” you questioned, putting a pause to the relaxed silence you were sharing.

Buggy nodded and started rattling off celestial names while a disembodied gloved hand floated overhead, pointing out each group of stars. After the first few, he started adding in a few made up constellations.

“Big Richie, it’s a magnificent, fearsome, circus lion.” “The Big Top Tent! See how it encompasses everything?” “Oh, this is my favorite, the Genius Jester Hat! It-”

The last one was cut off when your chuckles exploded into full-fledged laughter, satisfying the clown. “Alright, alright, I get it,” you choked out and elbowed his arm.

Buggy summoned his hand back, suddenly, hyper aware of how close you two were. Shoulders touching slightly after your giggle-fest. Hands a breadth apart. Fingers so close they could touch if he simply reached out. Heat grew in the places close to you, as if you were setting him on fire.

You weren't aware, but you were doing it again. Consuming his mind, his attention. The way you always watched him - observed, really - interested Buggy. Occupying areas of his mind until there were days where he could only think of you. Think of ways to get your eyes on him. Your attention focused on him. Your laugh creating music for his ears. Your smile. Your lips.

There were also nights where the thoughts of you flooded his mind. At first he’d ignore them, believing it was a passing fancy. But they wouldn’t leave him alone. Every glimpse of you kept the tantalizing visions buoyant. Any shred of attention you gave him added to the relentless waves in his head, until he succumbed. He’d let the swell of endless thoughts and images consume his body until he was left shuddering and gasping your name in the dark. And now, that familiar tempest was brewing inside the pirate.

Buggy pulled his knees up, hoping the position would hide the bulge growing in his pants. Sure, he could leave, but he felt greedy. He wanted more. He wanted to stay close to you. To listen to your breathing. Feel the heat of your body…

“Captain?” Your voice snapped him back into the moment. He hummed an acknowledgement.

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’ve been wondering why you always wear gloves.” You nudged your hand against his, skin against fabric.

“Why? It’s part of my schtick. My role as a performing artist,” Buggy boasted.

“Mmm, part of your costume?”

“Exactly.” Buggy was pleased that you understood, but your next question tested that warm feeling.

“Are you performing now? Is this a bit?”

Buggy stayed silent. He held up his gloved hands, thinking about how to answer. To be honest, he wasn’t sure himself. It didn’t feel like a bit or a performance. There was something genuine here.

You watched as Buggy pulled off his gloves and set them down. So that was his answer. Seeing his bare hands felt surprisingly intimate. His nails were painted. Thankfully the dark night hid the blush overtaking your face. You copied Buggy and held out your hands. The two of you mimicking each other, palms raised to the sky as if waiting to collect the stars themselves.

Buggy reached over to grab one of your hands, remarking at how small it is compared to his. Other than the tell-tale calluses that all pirates have, his skin was soft. You liked how his grasp enveloped your hand. It was gentle. Cautious. Buggy liked how your hand felt in his. Warm and accepting.

Something was caught in the pirate’s throat. Words he knew he shouldn’t say, but would cause him to explode if he kept them contained. Buggy swallowed the nerves that threatened to shake his voice.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Yes, Captain?”

Fuck. Even though Buggy has heard those words from you many times before, this time it sounded different. Better.

“Get on top of me.”

You turned your head to see if you heard him right. Before you could ask and confirm, his detached hands were tugging and nudging you to move. Your body felt clumsy. It was in disbelief, trying to catch up to the thoughts running through your mind and the demanding hands maneuvering it into place. Nervous and confused, you straddled Buggy - trying very hard not to sit on him - and looked down. This was something you imagined before, but it was not how you expected it to go. Although Buggy avoided looking at you, choosing to scowl at a random area on the deck instead, the hands holding your hips told you that this is what he asked for

“Cap-”

“Don’t say anything. J-just…just do me this favor.”

He saw you nod in the corner of his eye. He finally relaxed his legs, laying them back down. The hold on your hips tightened and Buggy pressed you down, wanting you to truly be on top of him. You weren’t prepared for the hard object beneath you or for it to press back when you made contact. You jumped in surprise but Buggy kept you in place. Finally, he looked at you. His eyebrows were pulled into a frown and his jaw was tight. As expressive as the pirate clown was normally, this was one expression you couldn’t decipher. There was the usual frustration, but also embarrassment - or was it fear? - and want.

You let his hands ease you back down on to the erection trapped in his pants, sighing as it sat snuggly against you. Buggy’s hands kneaded your hips as he hissed at the feeling. While his grasp was gentle when he held your hand, the way he squeezed your body was not the same. He clung to you as if you were the last match in a dark room. Something he desperately needed. Something that would grant all his wishes.

Buggy’s cock felt so hard that it was almost painful just sitting on it. When his hands began to pressure your hips back and forth, you welcomed the movement and rocked in time with his hold. Whenever he throbbed against your body, you returned the gesture by pressing into him more. You knew Buggy enjoyed that sensation by how he groaned and moved underneath you in ecstasy. It was mesmerizing and you wanted more. Leaning forwards, you placed your hands on Buggy’s chest and angled your hips so that you could grind yourself against his entire length.

The unexpected pressure eased a low moan from the pirate. His eyes had been fluttering but now they opened wide to watch you. Fucking beautiful. That’s all Buggy could think at the moment. Your head was tilted back in bliss while little moans and whimpers slipped from your mouth. The way you worked your body on his, driving your hips against his cock, was far better than any meteor shower. Buggy felt himself get closer to the edge thinking about how your cunt was so close. Only a few measley layers of fabric kept him from ramming himself into your wet heat and fucking you until you saw stars.

You noticed that his cock was becoming needier by the moment, throbbing and twitching below you. Rolling your hips, you rubbed your clit against his hardness. The sensation rocked through your body, a terrible side effect of the delicious feeling which left you weak. Eager to chase the climax that was close, you wanted to ask your captain for help. Before you could get a full word out, your head was pulled backwards. A disembodied hand was entangled in your hair, drawing you into an arch. The change in position left your mouth open, but the tension prevented you from saying anything more. Unable to keep pressure on your clit, you felt the climax ebb away.

“S-shhhh, n-not a word,” Buggy groaned.

He knew he took advantage of his position as your captain and couldn’t bear to think about what you might say while he was exerting that power. It was cowardly and pathetic, but he was too far gone.

Although Buggy still had one hand on your hip, he started bucking against you. His movements were forceful and sloppy. When Buggy gasped and his hips stuttered, you knew that he reached his end. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the lewd face he must be making. What his cock looked like releasing each stream of jizz. How it would feel in your cunt. Or in your mouth. What his cum tastes like.

Once Buggy stilled underneath you, he finally loosened his grip on your hair. Breathlessly, you looked at the flushed, panting, pirate before you. As the heat from Buggy’s climax dissipated and the load in his pants began to cool and clump together, he felt ashamed and sick of himself. He could barely look you in the eyes again. Giving into his cowardice, Buggy tried to ease you off of him before resorting to his devil fruit ability when he couldn’t quickly detangle your bodies.

“Wai-”

“Thanks.” Buggy spoke over you, still afraid to hear what you might say. What you might regret. He awkwardly picked his gloves off the floor before leaving, opting to have his feet walk away while the rest of his body floated. He already felt like shit and feeling the cold globs of sadness in his pants rub against him wouldn’t help.

And that’s where you finished the rest of your guard duty that night. It gave you plenty of time to think about what happened and analyze. And overthink. And overanalyze. That was an awful way to leave someone after using them like some sort of fuck toy. But…there was a part of you that liked it. He clearly wanted you. Or part of you. And you found that exciting.

Based on how Buggy practically fled the scene, you weren’t sure how things would be tomorrow. Still you couldn't help but think about what could have happened if you spoke up. What you wish happened instead.

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #buggy smut #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut #x reader

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kakiastro · 7 months

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Will I be Famous?

Astrology of Fame

Part 2

In my first post, I broke down some huge indicators on how to spot if you’ll be famous.

Here’s the link if you missed the first post

In this post, I breakdown some other indicators on how to see if you’ll be famous in your birth chart

Moon + 4h + Cancer + degrees (4°, 28°)

-the moon is very important when it comes to fame because traditionally it rules the people and public. It’s how people emotionally connect with you. This is how parasocial relationships with celebs begins because you feel emotionally connected to that person for whatever the reason. The Moon rules over memory, this is what people will remember you for as well.

Example : Harry Styles has a Libra Moon. Libra rules over close relationships and a lot of his fan base feel like they’re in a relationship with him some way or they are deeply invested in his relationships lol. (Don’t come for me harry fans😅)

-I will say having 4h or cancer placements can make the public (your fans)invested in your private life, so being a private person, not giving away too much will be beneficial. Boundaries is a must.

4° means you can be popular among women, being surrounded by women.

28° is the household name degree. It’s self explanatory, you are a household name. Your name carries weight and status.

Examples: Kim Kardashian has her Sun, Moon, and Jupiter at 28°. She’s the face of her family and family brand.

Harry Styles has his Part of Fortune at 28° conj part of Mercury, Venus and Sun. PoF is the blessings we are granted in this lifetime.

Neptune, 12h, Pisces placements, degrees (12°, 24°)

-the Sun rules over Fame but Neptune rules over Glamour. Neptune rules over divine energy so having it conj any of your personal placements gives you that “Gods walk among Us energy” Neptune also rules over creativity and spiritualism.

Examples: Rihanna has Neptune conj Mc. She’s a well known global singer and very respected in every entertainment industry.

-12h and Pisces can make you have ethereal energy. 12h placements can be known to being in Scandals and known to have addiction problems. Some of the most well known people who had been in scandals, overcame or passed from addiction has 12h or Pisces placements

Examples: Angelina Jolie has Venus 12h and she’s had lots of scandals dealing with her love life

Kurt Cobain had a Pisces Stellium and his drug problems

Michael Jackson was a Pisces moon and rising and we all know his personal life issues.

12° is known as the creativity and one of the beauty degrees.

24° is also creativity, healing and spiritual degree.

Asteroids-they’re more prominent if they conjunct one of your personal placements.

Fama (408)- fame. This can show you what you’ll be famous for and how you’ll deal with it.

Populus (8647)- popular. How popular are you in the public, among your peers, in the media etc

Nemesis (128)- the type of public beefs or the type of people that don’t like you at all

King (2305) and Queen (5457) - where you’re seen as “Royalty” in your field.

Aura (1488)- the energy you carry and why people are attracted to you

#astrology #astrology community #knowledge #love astrology #astro observations #advanced astrology #celebritybirthchart #birth chart #celebrity astrology #fame in astrology #fame astrology #moon astrology

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cybrsan · 1 year

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Party of Three | C.S, J.WY

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Summary: Things take an unexpected turn when Wooyoung walks in on you and San.

Pairing: Choi San x F!Reader x Jung Wooyoung

Genre: Hidden feelings, threesome, smut

Word Count: 5.3k

Warning(s): Alcohol & drug use, sex under the influence

A/N: This fic is the most well-liked among readers on my AO3. The writing may not be up to my current standard as I first posted this in 2019, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Everyone is already stoned by the time you show up at San and Seonghwa's apartment. The former is the one to open the door, greeting you with red eyes and a lazy smile.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he greets. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Before you can respond, you're slammed with the familiar smell of weed that wafts out into the hallway after him. Greedy to get started, you give your boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek and push past him into the kitchen, avoiding his grabby hands with skilled ease.

You throw your bag down onto the counter and then make a beeline for the fridge, desperate for some sort of alcohol after the stressful week of final exams you've just gone through. Grabbing a beer, you sit on one of the kitchen stools and give the room a once over.

Jongho, Yeosang, and Yunho are sat on the floor playing Mario Kart as Mingi sits behind them on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest. It seems like he's pretending to be some sort of referee based on how every once in a while he shouts random things like, "Oh, come on, Yunho! Don't you know how to drift?!" You smile at his antics—you've missed this.

Meanwhile, the other couple of the group is squished into one armchair, Hongjoong's legs draped over Seonghwa's lap. Hongjoong's eyes flutter open and closed and Seonghwa chuckles, lovingly watching his boyfriend struggle to stay awake. As always, a stoned Hongjoong is a sleepy Hongjoong.

You go to turn back to San—thinking that you've seen everyone—when a silhouette on the balcony catches your eye. You’re overtaken with surprise when you recognize it to be Wooyoung, taking a hit from San's prized glass pipe. He hadn’t come to one of these get-togethers in a while, ever since he broke up with his girlfriend. Actually, now that you think about it, he hadn’t been here that much even when they were still dating.

He spots you and he smiles, his eyes turning into crescent moons from pure happiness. After shoving the pipe into Seonghwa's waiting hands, he jogs over and plants a soft kiss on your cheek. You laugh and give him a hug, ecstatic that he seems like the Wooyoung you used to know. He was always touchy when stoned, but he had been holding himself back because his ex didn’t like him showing affection to anyone other than her.

“Thank god that bitch is gone,” you say, squeezing him one last time before letting go. “I missed this Wooyoung, the real Wooyoung.” You pause before adding, “My best friend, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung runs a hand through his black hair, laughing. “Yeah, me too. I’m glad to be back.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Mingi shouts from his place on the couch.

Of course, Wooyoung agrees instantly. You roll your eyes; he’s a fiend when it comes to alcohol of any kind. “Hell yeah! Let’s do shots.”

Wooyoung jogs over to the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of vodka. You shiver involuntarily; you and Smirnoff have a dark history. As he begins to pour the gasoline into shot glasses, he shoots you a questioning look.

You shake your head. "No. Hell no. No shots for me."

Despite your greatest efforts at resisting, Wooyoung's puppy eyes and Mingi's pouting (those two are unstoppable when they team up) manages to convince you and, half an hour later, you're three shots in. Yunho tries to pass you another one and you grimace, slapping his hand away. He looks offended and cradles the shot to his chest as if it spilling would have been the greatest tragedy of the modern age.

"We don't waste alcohol in this household, Y/N," he explains.

You can't help but roll your eyes. "Right, of course. Anyway," you look to where San is, leaning on the railing of the balcony with his pipe in hand, "I'm gonna go join my boyfriend and get stoned. Alcohol tastes like shit, I can only handle so much."

You practically skip to the balcony, excited to spend some one-on-one time with your boyfriend. It's been nice hanging out with the whole group but all you want right now is to be in San's arms. So, you decide to do exactly that. You bend down slightly and crawl right in between them, letting yourself be caged between his body and the railing. He doesn't get surprised and you let out a sigh of relief, grateful that he's been smoking for a few hours already. You're positive that if he was more sober he would've flinched and the glass pipe would have fallen out of his hand and down twenty-five feet onto the concrete below.

He smiles when he sees you, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his oh-so-precious dimples making an appearance. Leaning down, he captures your lips in a kiss. Smoke fills your mouth and your eyes widen in surprise; you didn't notice him take a hit. He pulls away and you exhale, letting the smoke evaporate into the night air. You cough slightly and he smiles, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

"Sorry, angel. I couldn't help myself."

The pet name makes you clench your thighs and San notices, eyes darkening. He knows exactly what the effect is of him saying that and you know he did it on purpose.

Fighting away the blush attempting its way onto your cheeks, you take the pipe from his hand, inhaling. You let the smoke enter your lungs, relishing in the familiar burning feeling. On your exhale, you say, "It's fine, just warn me next time."

Just as you take another hit, Seonghwa peeks his head out past the balcony door. "Hey, Joong and I are tapping out for the night."

San raises an eyebrow. "You mean he's still conscious?"

Chuckling, Seonghwa responds, "Let me rephrase. Hongjoong has passed the fuck out, so I'm taking him to my room to lay him down."

"Typical Joong," you say with a laugh. "He's fun for the first hour or so, and then he just gets tired." You always get stuck looking after a hungover Hongjoong while Seonghwa goes to work and you have a feeling tomorrow morning won't be any different.

Seonghwa nods, agreeing. With a half-wave, he turns to go back inside but suddenly stops, casting you and San one last look. "Oh, also—if you guys are gonna fuck tonight, can you try to be quiet? I have work tomorrow and wanna get a few hours of sleep in so my hangover doesn’t completely decimate me."

You blush and bury your face in San's chest, embarrassed. "Hwa! Can you not?"

Normally, San would be just as embarrassed as you, but not tonight. Without batting an eye, he says, "Alright, we'll try."

You pull back from him and gently swat on his arm. "San!"

He looks at you curiously. "What?" He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you taught against him and leans down to press his forehead against yours. "You want me to lie and tell him that I'm not planning to make a mess of you ton—"

"On that note, I'll take my leave," Seonghwa interrupts, disappearing back into the apartment.

"Oh my god." You pat your cheeks, forcing your blush to die down. "I always forget how much... bolder you get when you're high."

San leans down, placing a soft kiss on your neck. The gesture sends an electric shock throughout the rest of your body, causing your hair to practically stand on end. "Don't pretend you don't love it," he whispers, the heat from his breath ghosting against your skin.

"I don't—"

He cuts you off by taking your chin in between two of his slender fingers and forcing you to look up at him. "No lying, angel."

As if on autopilot, you respond, "Okay, Sir."

The second you close your mouth, you know that you've just set something in motion. You can see the change in San happen, something inside of him switching into gear. He's always had two sides to him—your soft, romantic boyfriend and then the rougher, more possessive side of him that comes out when you call him by that name.

Placing the pipe down on a table, he grabs you by your wrist and drags you inside past all the stragglers left in the living area. Yunho wolf whistles and Mingi and Jongho laugh quietly amongst themselves. Wooyoung, on the other hand, watches the two of you with an expression you can’t quite place.

"You two have fun now," Mingi jokes. Then, addressing the others, says, "Time for us to leave unless you wanna hear them going at it."

Leaving them to their own devices, San brings you to his bedroom. The second the door closes he has you pressed against it, capturing your lips with his own. You press yourself into him, letting out a content hum against his mouth. In this position he towers over you, his frame completely enveloping your own. You don't feel nervous or scared, though; in fact, it turns you on.

You hook your fingers under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against your palms. He helps you out, pulling away from you for just a moment to pull it over his head and toss it somewhere across the room. His lips are back on yours within the next second, as if your mouth is a magnet for his own. You run your hands up and down his back, feeling the muscles tensing under his skin. Just having his skin bared to you is already enough to get you moaning; you need more of him and you need it now.

You pull away from his lips to get some air. In between gasps, you manage to say, "Bed, now."

Your wish is his command. He lifts you up, biceps bulging, and gently places you on the bed. He hovers over top of you, messily leaving open kisses against your skin. You moan, giving into the sensation. It's been so long since you've had him like this and the buzz from the drugs is only making everything so much better.

"Wait." San raises an eyebrow as you crawl out from underneath him, hopping over to his desk. You open the top drawer and rummage around until you find exactly what you're looking for—a freshly made blunt. Picking that up and a lighter, you turn back to your boyfriend with a mischievous look in your eyes.

He smirks, leaning against the pillows. "I like the way you think."

Strolling back over to him, you get on the bed and throw one leg over his lap, straddling it. You give him the blunt and the lighter and, as he ignites it, you take off your shirt to give him a good view of your breasts. You hadn't worn a bra today, knowing that he loves when you don't. He almost chokes on the smoke as his eyes drink in your form, so greedy for a taste.

San's about to take another hit when the door to his bedroom opens. You cover yourself, panicking until you see exactly who's standing there—Wooyoung.

"Woo...?" You murmur, the syllable dropping off into a question.

He closes the door behind him and steps into the room. "Can I... Let me join you."

San chuckles. "I knew this would happen eventually."

You furrow your eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Woo has always had a thing for you. He told me a while ago. It's part of the reason he broke up with his ex, besides the fact that she was also a major bitch."

"Is that true, Wooyoung? Do you like me?" you ask, uncovering your breasts. His eyes instantly fall to them and he gulps.

"Yes."

You're sure that his honesty and what you do next is partly because of the drugs and alcohol swimming in your system.

"Alright. Join us."

Wooyoung moves forward, shedding his shirt as he does so, before crawling onto the bed next to you. He takes the blunt San holds out for him, plump lips forming a delectable "o" as he inhales. You watch him with hooded eyes, imaging those lips leaving a trail of blooming marks down your body, between your legs... You'd be lying if you said you'd never thought of this prior to tonight. You lean forward and kiss him and, for the second time that night, smoke transfers into your mouth from another's. This time, however, you're more than ready for it. You close your eyes in ecstasy, french inhaling as you slowly rock your hips against San's crotch, relishing in the groan he releases. You can feel him hardening through his jeans and you instinctively clench, already so desperate to have him—someone—inside of you.

Letting the blunt hang haphazardly out of his lips, Wooyoung grabs your waist and helps you move against San who occasionally lifts his hips, adding to the delectable friction that's making you whine.

Smoke starts to fill the room, making everything hazy. With every inhale, the smell of it invades your senses. You love it more than anything—it makes you feel like you’re floating. You reach over and pluck the blunt from Wooyoung's lips, taking another hit. Leaning down, you kiss San this time, biting his lip. Once he gives you access, you push the smoke into his mouth with your tongue.

“Fuck,” he groans, letting the smoke evaporate into the air. “It’s so much hotter when you do it to me.”

Placing the blunt into San's mouth, you reach down and unbutton your pants, managing to slip them off of your legs without even having to get off of him. With one less layer of clothing separating you, the friction of his tented jeans rubbing against your core is that much stronger. You throw your head back, sporadically rubbing yourself against him.

He reaches up and grabs one of your breasts, squeezing your nipple in between his fingers. “My angel is needy, huh?” he murmurs, smoke coming out of his mouth along with the words. You whine, nodding. “Alright then. Let me take care of you.” As an afterthought, he looks to Wooyoung who is currently palming himself through his jeans. "Actually, why don't we have Woo do it? I'm sure he's been dreaming about how you taste."

Before you can blink, San places the blunt in the ashtray on the side of his bed and flips you around so that your back is pulled taut against his chest. He nods at Wooyoung who gulps, moving forward and lowering down so that he's lying on the bed between your legs. You're certain that, at this point, your arousal has begun to leak through the fabric of your panties and the way his dark eyes take in the sight makes you squirm in anticipation.

San laughs, placing a sweet kiss against your temple. "Be patient."

Wooyoung begins to lightly trace patterns on your stomach as San attaches his plush lips to your neck, licking and sucking at the skin. The sounds you’re making are absolutely lewd, yet barely anything has even been done to you. Wooyoung leaves a hickey above the lace trim of your panties before hooking his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down, revealing your soaking cunt.

He kisses the inside of your thigh once, twice, before finally licking a strip up your core. Your entire body shudders and you arch your back instinctively. Your ass grinds against San's crotch and he groans, digging his fingers into your sides to keep you still. Your thighs close around Wooyoung's head yet he doesn't seem to have a care in the world, eating you out painfully slowly as if he is savoring every taste. You whine and squirm, fingers and toes searching for purchase within the sheets.

"Please, please, please," you gasp in between ragged breaths.

Wooyoung pauses, mouth hovering right above where you need him most. His breath is enough to make you clench, desperate for anything and everything.

"Please what, angel?" San asks. "Use your words."

"Please let me come."

Wooyoung kisses you right above your clit and you practically scream, tears welling up in your eyes. You're never like this, never this needy or this sensitive—it has to be the weed in your system. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it.

"Please who?" San's voice is deep, demanding.

Your voice is faint, barely a whisper. "Please, Sir."

He looks towards Wooyoung who is still hovering between your legs, lips glistening with your juices. "What do you think, Woo? Should we give her what she wants?"

Wooyoung pushes his hair back off of his forehead, sweat droplets falling onto the mattress below. "I know I'm more than willing to follow through."

San laughs, his chest reverberating against your back. "I'm sure you are. In that case, go for it; see if you can make her come as hard as I can."

Wooyoung takes on the challenge. His mouth attaches to your clit, sucking and licking at the sensitive bundle of nerves. When he adds a finger, plunging it into your dripping core, you scream his name.

"Fuck, Wooyoung!"

Your hand tangles in his dark hair and you can't help but pull, too lost in your own lust to hold onto any semblance of thought. Wooyoung doesn't seem to mind, though. If anything, it turns him on knowing that you're so far gone.

"Come on, baby," San whispers, hot breath dancing across your ear. "Come for us. Show me how good Wooyoung is making you feel."

Wooyoung adds a second finger and before you know it, you're seeing stars. A blinding wave of heat and pleasure overtakes you and you're shaking but, God, it feels so, so good. Wooyoung guides you through your orgasm with soft, gentle licks against your swollen pussy as San whispers words of praise against your skin. When you come back down from your high, you register the feeling of tears on your cheeks.

Wooyoung, finally satisfied, crawls up to lie beside you on the bed. He chuckles softly when he sees the state you're in and kisses away the wetness on your cheeks with a smile.

"It was so good that you cried, hm? You're so cute." Then, turning to San, he smirks. "You ever make her come like that?"

San rolls his eyes. "Of course I have. Don't get ahead of yourself."

At this point, you can barely find the strength to form a proper sentence but still, you grab onto one of San's biceps, fingernails digging into his tanned skin.

"Why don't you show him?"

San's eyes widen ever so slightly. "Are you sure you can handle it right now?"

You nod fervently. "Yes, God yes."

San still looks hesitant so you take initiative, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his lips down to your own. You kiss him with everything you have, hoping it expresses your wanton need for him. Against his lips, you murmur, "I want you. I want you inside of me, please."

"Fuck, angel..." He groans and closes his eyes, shaking his head ever so slightly. "You have no idea what you do to me."

After shimmying out of his pants and the boxers underneath, he reaches behind Wooyoung and searches around in the drawer next to his bed, pulling out a condom. He carefully rips it open and, after blowing into it, begins to roll it down his shaft. He moans at the friction and you frown, realizing how little attention you've given him. Shooing his hand away, you take over, rolling it all the way down to the base. He buries his face in your neck, groaning every time you move. You continue to stroke him, bringing your hand up to the tip of his cock before twisting your wrist and moving back down. He doesn't let you continue your ministrations for long, grabbing your arm and forcing you to stop.

"I'm close," he explains, sweat pooling at his brow, "And I would much rather be inside of you right now."

You smile and peck him on the lips. "Okay, I'm ready."

With your consent, he lifts you up and sits you on his cock, pushing past your walls. He stills with a gasp. "Fuck, you're so wet. Wooyoung did a good job of getting you ready for me, didn't he?" You nod and he begins to thrust, making you fall forward and lean against his chest for support. "You always take my cock so well, don't you? It's like you were made for me."

You let out a strangled moan, the praise combined with his actions sending shockwaves straight to your core. You came not so long ago and already you can feel your pleasure coiling once again. "Fuck, yes, I'm yours," you say.

Wooyoung, neglected, takes action and moves forward, tucking a finger under your chin and tilting your head, forcing you to look at him instead of San. "Y/N... kiss me."

You lean forward, stopping a breath away from his lips. "Sir," you whisper, "Can I?"

San shudders as you clench around his cock. "Go for it."

At his word, you capture Wooyoung's lips with your own. The first thing you notice is that you can still taste yourself on him; the second thing is how passionately he responds to you and how eagerly he returns your affection. He tangles his hand in your hair, tugging slightly on the strands. You moan at the sensation, nipping at his lips in the process.

San snaps his hips, slamming into you at a menacing pace that has your thighs shaking from the force of it. You gasp and, unable to keep kissing, grab at Wooyoung wherever you can, searching for support. Your hands find purchase on his biceps and you dig your nails into his skin, too lost in your pleasure to be gentle. However, Wooyoung doesn't seem to mind—in fact, the slight pain causes him to moan.

You can tell San is close by the way his breathing is getting heavier and his thrusts are getting sloppier. You clench around him and he squeezes his eyes shut, groaning.

"Fuck, baby, oh my God—"

"Sir, I want to come with you," you whine, throwing the nickname in there because you know it will help bring him to the edge.

He kisses you and brings a hand to your clit, furiously rubbing it with the pads of his two fingers. "Okay," he pants, "Come with me, angel. Come with me."

The coil building in your abdomen comes undone once he snaps his hips at an angle that hits that one spot inside of you and you impulsively lean forward, biting onto Wooyoung's shoulder to muffle your loud moaning. The spasms of your walls against his cock have San following after you mere seconds later and he eases you off of him, letting you fall to your back against the mattress below.

San places a loving kiss against your temple and turns to Wooyoung, who at some point had taken off his own jeans, freeing his swollen cock. "Woo, come here," he commands, crooking his finger. You frown, realizing that Wooyoung has gone the longest without being touched; how unfair. You reach out a hand, willing to help relieve him, but San stops you. "No, you rest. I'll take care of him."

You watch with wide eyes as your boyfriend goes slack-jawed and takes Wooyoung's leaking cock into his mouth, allowing the other boy to fuck his throat. He sucks him off with the ease of someone who has done it multiple times before, knowing when to move and when to still, when to use his tongue and when to not. Saliva begins to dribble out of the corners of his lips and his eyes tear, but you can tell he's eager to help Wooyoung reach his end what with the way his hands are supportively rubbing the other's thick thighs. If you weren't so exhausted, you think you might have come again just from the sight of it.

It doesn't take long for Wooyoung to come with how long he's been holding off and San takes all of it, swallowing and gently pulling off of him. Wooyoung collapses against the headboard, chest heaving. After catching his breath, he looks at you and smiles.

"Well... this was fun, huh?"

You can't help but laugh, so blown away by the turn this night has taken. "Fun is just one of the words I would use, I think."

Wooyoung reaches out, carefully pushing your hair off of your forehead and the loving action reminds you of a question you had wanted to ask earlier.

"Woo?"

"Hm?"

"How long have you wanted this?"

His ears turn red and you can tell that the question embarrasses him, but he answers anyway. "Since before you and Sannie started dating."

"Wait... back in high school?" He nods. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was scared," he admits. "You and I had—have—been best friends for so long and I didn't wanna risk ruining that by acting on my feelings. Then I introduced you to Sannie and, well... the rest is history." You punch him on the arm and he whines. "What was that for?!"

"You idiot! I liked you too."

"You... what?" His complexion pales as the information sinks in. "Fuck."

San, silent until now, wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you towards him, kissing your cheek. "Y/N... do you still like Woo?"

"I..." You pause, startled. "Is this a trick question?"

He laughs. "No, it's not. And there's no wrong answer. Just be honest with me, baby."

"M-maybe." Your voice is small, tentative; telling your boyfriend you have feelings for your mutual best friend isn't something you ever saw yourself doing.

"What if I said I did too?" San asks.

Your jaw drops and you search his face for any signs that he's joking, but he looks completely serious. "Really?"

San nods. He gestures for Wooyoung to come closer and he does, scooting forward so that he's sitting right next to you. He rests a hand on your bare thigh, gently caressing the skin there and calming your nerves.

"Yeah. I like both you and Wooyoung and you like both of us, right?" You nod. "What would you think about making this a normal thing?"

"Like... the three of us all being in a relationship?" you ask.

Wooyoung shrugs. "We don't have to have any sort of label. This is just something we can try out. If it doesn't work, that's okay too. I won't mind."

You take a moment to think, weighing the pros and cons. Then, you realize something. “Wait… Did you guys plan this whole thing out?” San and Wooyoung share a guilty look and you laugh, shaking your head exasperatedly. “God, what am I getting myself into?”

Wooyoung’s eyes light up. “So you’re willing to try?”

You nod. “Yeah, I am."

"Great!" San kisses your nose and gets up, discarding the used condom into the trash can underneath his desk. He slips on a pair of sweatpants and goes out the door to presumably get some things from the bathroom, but of course not before throwing the two of you a dimpled smile and assuring that he'll be right back.

He returns shortly, opening the door with one hand as he holds two washcloths and some lotion in the other. He closes it with his foot and practically jumps on the bed, eager to not keep you or Wooyoung waiting any longer. Gingerly, he wipes away with your sweat, starting with what's on your face and not stopping until you are fully refreshed. Then, as he hums under his breath, he squeezes some lotion onto his hands and begins to gently massage you, helping to loosen up any tension and soreness you might feel. He saves your abused core for last, making sure to be extra gentle.

You watch with a content smile as he smothers you in aftercare, letting yourself just sit back and soak in every second of it. You used to feel guilty when he did this, feeling bad you weren't doing anything in return, but he's assured you so many times that he enjoys it and wouldn't do it if he didn't want to that you can't help but just selfishly enjoy it now.

Not wanting Wooyoung to feel left out, he makes sure to give him the same routine. Wooyoung is hesitant at first like you used to be but, before long, he's practically purring. Once San is done, he slides into bed behind you and covers your scantily clad bodies with the previously discarded blanket. Instantly, you slide closer towards him so that your back is against his chest and he sighs contentedly, resting his chin on the crown of your head. Wooyoung turns to face you and San, forehead almost touching your own, and you kiss him, making him laugh.

"I can't believe this is real," he admits.

You smile. "Me neither. It's weird, but it's nice."

San hums in agreement, already drifting off.

"I love you," you say softly, chest aching with just how much you mean those words. "Both of you."

"I love you more," San responds. Just like always.

"I love you, too." The same words Wooyoung has always said, but now with a different meaning.

It's nice, you think, having two people to wish you goodnight.

The following morning, you're the one who wakes up first. Wooyoung is the first thing you see, mouth slightly parted and hair a complete mess. You smile, finding it endearing. San's grip around your waist is tight but you manage to slip out of his hold, getting out of bed and throwing on a pair of underwear and a t-shirt. You open the door and quietly make your way to the kitchen, hoping that Seonghwa and Hongjoong are still asleep. You don't hear any commotion and you let out a relieved breath, glad that you don't have to deal with the embarrassment of facing anyone after—

"Good morning," Seonghwa says, peering up at you over the rim of his coffee mug. You freeze, watching as he takes a sip and then places it down on the counter in front of him.

"Oh, um, hey. Hope we didn't, uh..."

"Keep me up? No, not at all. Not like for a second I thought you were getting murdered from how loud you were screaming or anything like that."

Your entire body seems to burn from the force of your blush. "Fuck. Sorry, Hwa."

"Whatever, it's fine. But, I have to ask... Is that Wooyoung's shirt?"

Looking down, you see that you are most definitely wearing that shirt Wooyoung had on the night before. "Yeah, I... We, um..."

It's at this point that both Wooyoung and San emerge from the bedroom, San still clad only in his sweatpants and Wooyoung in a pair of boxers. San instantly puts his arm around your waist and lovingly pecks your cheek, and Wooyoung smacks your ass as he walks by to get to the coffee pot.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow as he watches the scene play out. "You know what? This weirdly makes a lot of sense." Getting up and putting his now empty coffee mug into the sink, he adds, "Anyway, I'm headed out. You three think you're up for another party tonight?"

Your mind travels back to last night and what incredible things the party led to so, without missing a beat, you respond, "Oh, God yes."

Seonghwa laughs. "Cool. See ya later, Y/N."

The door closes with a slam behind him and you hear a groan come from the hallway behind you. You take a look around the bend to see a very, very hungover looking Hongjoong hobbling his way out of Seonghwa's room. You smile and share a look with Wooyoung and San, shaking your head. Looks like your prediction was right—you're gonna be stuck taking care of him after all.

#san x reader #choi san x reader #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #woosan x reader #woosan smut #choi san smut #choi san imagines #wooyoung smut #ateez smut #ateez imagines #jung wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung imagines #wooyoung imagines #ateez fic #my fic

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naffeclipse · 11 months

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I don't know when I'll ever write this, but I've had this AU in the back of my mind ever since Bendy and the Dark Revival came out, and it's best to get it out of my head before it festers and rots.

More or less, it's BatDR and the DCA smashed into one. The premise is that you are an animator at Fazbear Studios and Sun and Moon are humans who go by Cyrus and Mani respectively, employed as voice actors. (First AU with human Sun and Moon whoo! don't get attached though) Vanessa is a janitor who is a bit odd, mostly keeping to herself though sometimes you feel like she's starting at your back when you're alone.

Cyrus and Mani perform as extras in the Fazbear cartoon, adding supporting voices for side characters and miscellaneous lines. Cyrus often supplies humorous, wacky, and surreal voices to his performances. Mani tends to get villainous or spooky characters with his deeper, raspier voice. They both enjoy what they do and love that they can work together as brothers.

You can't help but notice Cyrus and Mani. You admire their skill, their passion, and their smiles, and you sometimes even work up the courage to wave at Cyrus or Mani whenever one of the brothers happens to pass by your work desk.

They inspire you—not just with their work, but with their small acts of care. You find coffee on your desk when you return from a meeting with the other animators with a little smiling sun doodled on the cup. Sometimes, Cyrus asks you to join him on a walk since it's your lunch break and you could really use some sunshine and a chance to stretch your legs. When it gets far too late and you're burning the midnight oil, Mani is somehow always there, doing a funny voice to surprise you with a little reminder that it's past your bedtime. He leaves you little treats in blue wrappers, hidden in places on your desk, among your ink and papers.

It's not a surprise that you start drawing a character for them in your rare off hours when you still have the energy to hold a pencil. The Fazbear cartoon could add a new, permanent character. A robotic jester, lanky and tall, but with two forms for the day and night, funny and sweet and mischievous. Cyrus and Mani could both voice him!

That's silly, however. Fazbear Studios does not want your chaotic and half-brained scribbles nor do you dare show the brothers what they inspired—they might hate it. You keep your little jester character tucked away, along with a small doodle of a minor, nobody, gray character who may or may not be a tag along to the main act that is the jester. Your sketches and concept art are hidden away, far from where the light of day or the shine of night will ever see.

It goes missing one day. You're upset and asking everyone who went through your desk. No one confesses. Cyrus tells you that it'll be okay, he'll help you find it. Mani suggests that you keep locks on your drawers from now on.

It's never found, not that you wanted either of them to stumble upon it. Yet, they stay late with you after everyone has gone home, looking for your precious and secretive sketchbook through the many departments of the studio.

Somewhere along the way, Cyrus disappears, promising to return with your sketchbook. You lose Mani in the audio department before, oh, there's Vanessa. She tells you to come to the basement with her—she found your notebook. You're relieved but a little put off by Vanessa and reluctantly follow her down into the dark.

You don't find your sketchbook, but you do find Cyrus slumped against the wall, blood trickling down his temple, and a strange collection of shrines to one of the studio's cartoon characters.

Before you can rush to his side, pain explodes in your skull, cracking white across your vision. You fall to the ground, dazed, as Vanessa gives a cryptic promise to return with the last sacrifice. You manage to crawl across the floor in your pitiful state to reach Cyrus and attempt to revive him, but by then, Mani is walking in. His shock overtakes him but he dodges a swipe of Vanessa's wrench and starts struggling against her. You try desperately to drag Cyrus somewhere safe as he murmurs for you to get out of here, but in the middle of Vanessa's and Mani's fight, she flips a switch and ink begins filling the room.

The black flood sweeps Cyrus away from you. Pages spill out from the inside of Vanessa's vest, dozens of sketches of your jester character. You cry out. Mani looks to you. Vanessa at last shoves Mani into the surge of onyx liquid beside Cyrus, and you watch both of them go under together. You scream their names. She turns to you, grinning.

The last thing you remember is Vanessa shoving your head into the ink.

Then it's the only thing you remember. You're vaguely aware that your jet-black hands are strange and shiny, and that you don't know where you are in this sepia-colored studio, but you know something's not right. You're missing someone, and someone else. You're scared.

You wander around for a bit until you're attacked by monsters emerging from the ink, shrieking and wailing in gluey dark forms until a wonderful and terrifying automaton arrives. He destroys such a creature about to tear you apart. He stands so tall, detailed with sharp teeth and even sharper sun rays around his large, flat face, but you think you recognize those yellow eyes—a living cartoon.

He helps you calm down and asks for your name in a loud and funny voice that rings like a bell in your mind but you can't name the tune. You don't remember your name. He doesn't remember his either. He leads you away from the harsher spaces of the studio, somewhere 'safer'. You don't know if there is anything as safe, but you feel better with him.

You're startled when after a time, in the middle of talking to this sunshine character, he melts and morphs and bubbles until a crescent moon face emerges and a new grin. You panic before a darker, raspier voice, like a cartoon villain, tells you it's alright. He's here, too. He's not sure what's going on but he, and the other 'him', and you are gonna make it out of here, somehow.

You don't have hope anywhere else but in this unique robot jester, and he seems to want you to stay close to him. So it's you two, the last sane partnership in the crazed and dripping studios, fighting off ink creatures and surviving other bizarre characters. You learn how to wield a gent pipe and the jester is strong on his own, often able to tear things apart or toss monsters off of you before they can do worse. He has claws and teeth and he uses them well.

Vanny is a lady rabbit and a constant threat. She's smart and cunning, unlike the other mostly senseless attackers. She keeps tracking the two of you down and spouting off the religious rhetoric of Inktrap, promising that your sacrifices will be well worth the pain. You had to be introduced to the cycle. The ink has corrupted you perfectly. You are part of this place. You are never leaving and will give in to Inktrap.

You and he avoid Inktrap at all costs. You've only caught glimpses of the shadowy, pitch-black beast, but that's all you need to see as you both hide and hold your breaths until the danger just barely passes by.

You start to call the daytime jester Sun, and he seems to respond to it. The nighttime joker is Moon, and he neither hates nor loves it, but he answers when you call. He has a name for you, too, or rather names. Peach, bird, thrill, calico, and sweetheart. He gets creative and goofy. You think he's being mean sometimes but he tells you he's not, he means it, and you don't know how to take that before you two have to focus on escaping this part of the studio and getting into safer areas. You protect his back and he protects yours, and together, you make this living, unending nightmare bearable. Sharing bacon soup, falling asleep in Moon's lap, and patching up any drips in Sun's inky form becomes something like a life.

It just never stops, repeating over and over. The jester deserves better than this, whatever happened to him. You know you both do.

You become determined to learn how the cycle works and how to prevent it from going on. There's a funny feeling you have that, somehow, you're going to have to go through Vanny and the Inkdemon. One day, you will get the jester and yourself free.

You need to see his and your happy ending.

#sidenote: cyrus is pronounced cy-rus and mani is pronounced mah-ni not manny #also their last name is Sterle but i don't know if that would ever come up #sorry that's all i'm gonna put here as a sort of summary #there's a dramatic ending with the jester saving your life but it comes at a price of merging with inktrap #and that's when eclipse comes out to play #but despite looking as terrifying as he is now and fighting for control #he still loves you! (whoops he wasn't supposed to say that last part out loud)#The Jester and the Tagalong #bendy and the dark revival FNAF AU #this goes out to wynnibee for reminding me this was buried in my drafts!

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crystallinestars · 2 months

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NSFW Alphabet - Argenti

Argenti needs more love, and I am here to deliver. It's surprisingly hard to lewd this man. Argenti my beloved, I'm sorry v_v

Maybe one day I will have it in me to write a nsfw scenario for him.

Argenti x fem!Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very good at aftercare. The KING of aftercare, even. Argenti pampers you to the moon and back after sex. You want water? Fresh bedsheets? Cuddles and kisses? Be carried to the bathroom for a bath? He’ll do it all and more, you need only ask. He’s so devoted to ensuring you’re happy and comfortable, that he will even neglect his own needs to prioritize yours. If you pamper him in return, his heart will swell with affection, so expect to be trapped in a cuddle for quite a while afterward.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

As a Knight of Beauty, Argenti takes care to make all of himself look beautiful. He values his appearance as a whole, as much as each individual body part. As such, I don’t think he has a favorite body part on himself, but I do think he pays a little extra attention to his face since it’s the only visible body part. He always looks so handsome, you can’t tell me he doesn’t take care to look that good.

As for you, Argenti likes your eyes and lips. He feels most connected to you during lovemaking when he can gaze into your eyes and see the love and joy you feel being this intimate with him. He also adores your lips because he loves to kiss them, especially when he’s buried deep in your pussy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Prefers to ejaculate inside because he’d rather not dirty your pretty skin with his cum. Argenti produces a fair amount of cum because he seldom masturbates.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The first time Argenti saw you partially nude (walked in on your changing or saw you in a swimsuit, etc), the image of your body was stuck in his mind. He’s usually good at resisting lustful urges, but something about the sight of your figure awakened a desire to place his mouth all over your skin. He wanted to worship your body the way he believed you deserved, to kiss every inch of you, and whisper compliments into your skin.

He wanted to make love to you.

The realization made him feel guilt and shame for thinking of you in such a lustful manner despite you being his partner. The feelings only went away when the two of you finally had sex for the first time. Being able to act on the urges of worshiping your body made your first time an unforgettable experience for him, among other things.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Has no experience. He took up the knightly conduct early in his life and has abstained from worldly pleasures all for the sake of honing his devotion to the path of Beauty. That said, Argenti isn’t clueless about sex and how to please a woman. With some time, he will learn all the ways in which to touch you to make your body sing and your voice come out in wanton moans. He will study your body, memorizing all the ways you like to be touched, where your pleasure spots are, and how fast to go. He is devoted to pleasing you the same way he is devoted to the pursuit of Beauty, so rest assured that he will learn quickly and efficiently. He’ll have you reduced into a moaning mess in no time.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Classic missionary because he likes to see your face and make eye contact with you. Plus, it allows him to lift your hips up or hike your legs onto his shoulders for a deeper angle, as well as hold your hand as you both approach orgasm—what’s not to like?

Argenti also enjoys fucking you while standing. Not even with your back braced against a wall, but supporting you in midair while using his hands to move your hips up and down on his cock. You tend to cling to him more tightly this way, which he likes.

He also likes cowgirl in the event you feel like taking charge. The sight of you enjoying yourself with his body is a turn-on for him. Of course, he’ll want to thrust up into you while you ride him but will do his best to remain still if you ask him to.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He tries to be serious, but due to how corny his words can be, the situation can unintentionally become goofy when he tries too hard to praise you. He only wants to tell you how beautiful and enchanting you look while in the throes of passion, but if you laugh at his words, he won’t take offense. If you’re enjoying yourself and having fun, then your smile and laughter are enough even if they weren’t the intended result.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very well groomed. He has a patch of darker red hair that’s well-maintained at all times.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very romantic. Though it’s novel to a lonesome wanderer like him, Argenti loves the intimacy that sex brings. To him, sex doesn’t just link your bodies, but also your hearts and minds. It’s an ultimate connection, one that happens as a result of your trust and love for one another.

If possible, he likes to set the mood with some candles and rose petals, maybe give you a massage or take a bath together. Argenti likes to take his time and build up towards the main act.

He whispers praises and words of love into your ear as he thrusts into you, presses his lips to your skin and runs his hands along your body as if you were a sacred treasure, and intertwines his fingers with yours the closer you get to orgasm. He practically worships you during lovemaking, and you better believe that he won’t shut up about how much he loves you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Rarely masturbates, if at all. As mentioned, Argenti discarded worldly pleasures when pursuing the path of Beauty, which also includes sexual pleasures. He remained chaste up until he met you. Argenti tried to resist the allure of lust when he started a romantic relationship with you, and was pretty successful. He feels guilty masturbating, feeling that he is breaking some sort of conduct by doing so. Would feel double the guilt for imagining you in sexual situations while jacking off to thoughts of you, finding it like a sacrilege against you, so he abstained from that until you two had sex for the first time. He still avoids masturbating if he can (his self-restraint is godly), but will indulge you if you’re horny.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Despite his chasteness and knightly chivalry, I think Argenti is a kinky beast deep down.

He’s into roleplaying as your devoted knight with you as his princess or noble lady. Is also super into being used for your pleasure, so you can tie him up or give him commands that he’ll be more than happy to follow through. He finds it exciting to give control to you and have you use him to get off.

However, he also finds it equally as exciting to take charge and touch you in the places you like until you’re reduced to a whimpering, moaning mess under him, twitching from overstimulation. It all depends on what you’re into. Argenti is very versatile and open to many things, so as long as you’re getting off, so is he.

He also loves to give and receive praise and body worship. He likes giving a lot more, but is happy to receive your touch and compliments. He especially loves it when you tell him how good you feel or moan for him since it lets him know he’s doing a good job of pleasing you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Somewhere private and comfortable for you, so most of the time the ideal location ends up being the bedroom. He just wants you to rest on something soft for the sake of your comfort, and to avoid having anyone see you in such a vulnerable state without your consent.

He’s open to taking you on the couch or the bath if you’re up for it. Honestly, I think he will make love to you almost anywhere in the house if you say you want him here and now. That said, he’s also open to having sex outdoors, provided you’re in a secluded spot with little chance of being walked in on. He finds the idea of making love to you on a beach or in a field of flowers somewhat romantic.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Argenti’s self-restraint is immense and he can ignore carnal temptations all too easily, so it’s not easy to get him going. What can make that restraint crack is if you whisper in his ear that you want him. You need him to take you, to make love to you. That you want to be closer to him the way only lovers can. Argenti can’t resist the romantic proposition since he wants to please you and connect with you on an even deeper level.

Although he can ignore carnal temptations, he finds it hard to resist the sigh of you in pleasure. If he catches you masturbating or looking needy, it will affect him as your romantic partner. You’re just so cute and enticing, that all he wants is to make you feel good and take you to the heights of pleasure.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Will not hurt you. He’s very worried about your safety and comfort, so Argenti refuses to do extreme things like choke you, or knife play. Also isn’t into watersports, since he finds the act disrespectful.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Argenti prefers to give oral as opposed to receive it. He finds great enjoyment in making you feel good. It arouses him a lot to see your blissed-out expression and hear your moans as he buries his face between your legs. He will concede if you want to blow him, but he would much rather use his mouth on you as opposed to the other way around.

Might be a bit clumsy at the start, but he devotes himself to learning exactly how you like to be eaten out. He experiments quite a bit with how to use his tongue, attentively listening to your feedback and directions for where and when to flatten it or point the tip, how to suck on your folds, and how to tease your clit with his tongue. He becomes a master at it.

He’ll readily get down on his knees to bury his face into your pussy, or have you sit on his face. He’s okay with any position, just please let him make you feel good, princess.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Argenti is very good at reading your cues, so he’s able to deduce if you want it harder or more gentle. He matches whatever it is you want without complaint, since as mentioned, he is all about making you feel good.

If asked for his personal preference, then he would reply that he likes to take it slow and sensual. Argenti doesn’t want to just fulfill a carnal desire—to him, sex is a way to deepen his connection with you on an emotional and spiritual level, so he sees it as an opportunity to make love to you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Personally doesn’t prefer them, but if you’re horny, then he will indulge you. They’re not as good for him since Argenti likes to take his time to show appreciation for you and your body with lots of foreplay and sweet words, plus he has extremely good control of his desires, so he doesn’t see a need for quickies. If you’re desperate for him, though, then who is he to turn you away when you are so needy?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

To an extent, yes. Argenti is no stranger to putting himself at risk due to his occupation as a Knight, so he is open to trying new things with you in the bedroom. He’ll try almost anything once. The only caveat is that he won’t try anything that could hurt you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Argenti can go for as many rounds are your pretty heart desires because his stamina is just that good. You can thank his knightly training for that.

He lasts for quite a while each round. You usually end up climaxing first (multiple times, even) before he achieves his own orgasm. If you want to go again, then he’ll eat you our or finger you until his refractory passes, and he’ll fuck you senseless again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn’t own any toys, but has no issues if you own and use some on yourself. He’s open to having toys used on him and to use them on you, and derives some enjoyment out of the novelty of the experiences. However, Argenti ultimately prefers to feel your warm and loving touch as opposed to the cold plastic of a sex toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

No man in Star Rail will cave quicker to your pleas than Argenti. He just can’t deny you when you ask him for something, especially if that something is his love and touch. As such, he doesn’t tease you during sex.

The only exception would be him denying you sex when he considers the timing inopportune, such as if he has to quickly head out to handle a monster or go on a long journey. During such cases, he might unintentionally tease you by giving you passionate kisses and touches but never actually go all the way with you due to how busy he is. He doesn’t experience a need for sex the way you do, so he doesn’t always realize that he might be teasing you with his touches.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

His voice is fairly soft and low when he moans since he’d rather hear your pretty voice moaning for him. Argenti does talk a lot, though. He showers you with praises and compliments, saying how beautiful you look all spread out and needy for him, or how well you take his cock. He’s never crass with his language, instead, he’s more… polite? Regardless, he says everything with reverence because he’s just that enamored by you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Underneath all that armor, Argenti sports quite a few scars from his past battles. He is not ashamed of them, but does find it endearing when you kiss the scarred tissue as if trying to comfort him. Your tender kisses make him feel loved.

However, if there are parts of your body that you are insecure about (cellulite, stretch marks, scars, or extra fat, etc), then Argenti does his best to show love to those areas and tell you that you’re beautiful, no matter how negatively you think of yourself. His words are not just empty compliments because he genuinely means them from the heart. To Argenti, you are beautiful. He will love you no matter what you look like because what he loves most about you is who you are on the inside. He believes that your inner beauty reflects on your outward appearance, too.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Has a very pretty cock. 6 inches in length and 5 in girth, with a reddish tip and a slight curve to the right.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Argenti has a low sex drive. As mentioned previously, Argenti’s self-control is extremely good because he disciplined himself to ignore worldly desires, so he doesn’t desire sex (or at least manages to suppress those desires to the point of not recognizing them). He can happily be in a romantic relationship with you without ever having sex, but can also happily indulge you if that’s something you want.

Once he experiences the pleasures of sex, though, he does worry a little about it affecting his dedication to the Path of Beauty and upholding the knightly conduct.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes Argenti a while to fall asleep. He’s usually not too tired after finishing a session of lovemaking with you and uses the time to cuddle and give you aftercare. If you fall asleep in his arms shortly after, then he’ll smile in endearment and kiss you on the forehead before tucking you in. He tries to stay as long as he can with you before going about his duties or settling in to sleep, as well.

@coreakin-sakarat It's not much, but I tried my best.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #star rail x reader #hsr argenti x reader #argenti x reader #argenti x reader smut

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dragon-kazansky · 3 months

Text

Symphony of dreams

Morpheus x Female Reader

You are his lover. When Morpheus was captured, you fell into the deep sleep. He has no idea until he returns to his realm where Lucienne tells him what happened. Unable to help you until he gets his tools back, he is more determined than ever to get his full power back.

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Warnings: None really. Just the start of the story.

Chapter One - See you soon

☆☆☆

The Dreaming. The place people go to at the end of the day. When they're all tucked up in bed and drifting off, they come here. A realm full of stories and adventures. A realm where dreams and nightmares thrive.

The Dreaming is also home. Home to many creatures and beings. It is the realm of the lord of dreams and king of nightmares. Dream. That is how he is commonly known. Morpheus, to those who really know him. He's Darling to his wife.

His wife. A woman he met many years ago. She was a gift to him. A gift he fell in love with once he learned how to open his heart to her. She has been by his side for many moons now.

This is their kingdom. Their life. Their home.

Now, Morpheus was about to leave his realm in search of a rouge nightmare. It wasn't often anyone left The Dreaming, but occasionally, Morpheus had walked among the mortals.

He stood on the steps of his throne, tools in hand, preparing to make his leave. The Corianthian was free, and he had to stop him. Beside him, his wife stood with his helm in hand. She looked just as beautiful as she always did. Lucienne stood at the bottom of the stairs, a glint of worry etched into her gaze.

"My lord, you are coming back, aren't you?"

"Why would I not return, Lucienne?" Morpheus asks.

"Of course he will come back," you say, looking at your husband. "He will always come back."

Morpheus looks at you with a gentle gaze in his eyes. His hand is being held by your free one. He loves the way your fingers curl around his.

"As powerful as you are here in your realm, dreams rarely survive on the waking world." Lucienne explains.

Morpheus takes his helm from you and puts it on. You take a few steps down to stand beside Lucienne. Morpheus takes his leather pouch out and pours some sand into his palm.

"Nightmares, on the other hand, seem to thrive there."

With a quick gesture, Morpheus throws the sand up, and it swirls around him. You do not take your eyes off him until he is no longer standing on the steps of his throne.

You sigh softly.

"See you soon, my love."

☆☆☆

"My lady, if I may?" Lucienne approaches you as you read in the library. Morpheus had been gone no longer than 45 minutes so far.

"Yes? What is it, Lucienne?"

"If I may say, do you really think it was a good idea to let him go?"

You smile as you close the book in your hand and look up at her. "Morpheus is capable. He can bring our nightmare back home. Have trust in him, Lucienne. He will come back to us soon."

Lucienne offers a smile and nods. She leaves you alone to continue reading. However, the book no longer holds your interest. You look at the ring on your finger.

"Come back to me, darling."

☆☆☆

2 hours have passed. There has been no word nor a whisper about what was happening in the Waking World.

You were sitting on the steps of the throne room, waiting. In your hands, you played with your ring, needing to feel aome aspect of him. The ruby sparkled, but it showed your nothing of where he was.

"My lady."

Jessamy flew in and landed nearby.

"Jessamy."

"He will return. He would never just leave."

"I know. I'm just worried."

The raven cocks her head to the side as she looks at you. She can see the worry on your face. Your eyes focus on the way you turn your ring between your fingers.

"The Corianthian is a complicated being." Jessamy tries to softly remind you. "Perhaps Morpheus is just having a hard tike locating him."

"Perhaps..."

Or perhaps something has gone wrong.

☆☆☆

A whole day passes. Morpheus has not returned home. You're pacing the floor of your chambers. You grow restless with each hour that passes without a word from him. Morpheus has never left you without a word before. He would have contacted you by now.

The worry seeps into your bones as you whisper his name and try to calm your racing mind.

A knock sounds at your door.

"Yes?"

Lucienne comes in and looks at you. The expression on her face tells you that there is still no news.

"I need to find him."

"My lady, you must not leave the realm. Please, rest."

"How can I rest when I don't know where he is? Morpheus would have sent word if he needed mkre time. Something has gone wrong, I can feel it."

Lucienne reaches out to rub your arms gently. She tries to get you to focus on her, needing you to calm down a little.

"I am aware Lord Morpheus would never leave you this long without sending a message back. I, too, fear something may have happened, but we must remain calm. This realm needs a ruler until his return, and he has bestowed that role to you. Please, my lady, get some rest. Who knows, he may be by your side when you wake." She offers you another smile.

You take her words to heart and nod. Lucienne leaves you in your room. You can not help but worry. However, you do as she suggests and get some rest.

You climb into the bed, which feels colder without Morpheus because you, and close your eyes.

"Come home, Morpheus."

☆☆☆

Lucienne knocked on the door to your chambers. No one had seen as of yet that day. It was unlike you to sleep in unless Morpheus had kept you up.

"My lady?" She calls, knocking on the door again.

No answer.

"My lady?" She tries once more.

Still no answer.

"Forgive me, my lady." She whispers as she opens the door herself. She is greeted by the sight of you in bed, fast asleep.

Lucienne approaches the bed. She would never dare enter your chambers without permission before, but it seemed you needed slight assistance in getting up today. Perhaps your heart was saddened by Morpheus not being present and needed the extra rest.

She felt for you.

"My lady, you must wake."

You did not stir.

"My lady?" She frowns as she takes in your current status. Something feels wrong. Lucienne reaches out and touches your hand lightly.

Something is wrong.

"My lady?"

☆☆☆

Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. Months turn into years.

Morpheus sits in his glass cage, trapped by the circle around him. Rodrick Burgess did this. He had tried to summon Death but instead received her younger brother. Now he was trapped.

Rodrick Burgess kept Dream down in his basement, stripped of his clothes and his tools. Morpheus had no way to contact The Dreaming. He had no way of contacting you.

His beloved wife. He missed you. He missed the sound of you voice. He missed your eyes. He missed the touch of your hand.

His ring. It was missing. They had stolen that, too.

Morpheus was without you entirely. These mortals had taken him away from his kingdom and away from his wife.

Vengeance.

He needed it.

☆☆☆

A century had passed. Morpheus had seen Alex Burgess grow old. Rodrick had since died, and Alex took over.

Morpheus could only hope his imprisonment would soon end. He had to return home. He had to return to you.

Alex had come down to the basement one last time. He pleaded once more. Morpheus, as always, said nothing. He just watched. Alex used the same words they had told him for decades. It would change nothing.

Alex gets back in his wheelchair and Paul takes him away, the wheel of the chair rubbing away a line from the circle. They had no idea what they had just done.

Morpheus waited.

He watched the two guards currently watching over him. One of them was talking about a holiday. Sun, sea, sand. Perfect. Morpheus looked at him. The guard yawned.

Today was the day Morpheus went home.

Using that dream, Morpheus escaped into it.

In the Waking World, the guard was shooting at the glass of his cage. It cracked and weakened. Soon, it shattered, and Morpheus was able to get out. In his hand was sand that he had taken from the dream. He blew it gently. The guard went to sleep, and Morpheus turned around to enter the portal back home.

But first, he had to deal with Alex.

☆☆☆

Alex Burgess would never wake up again. Eternal sleep was his punishment. For now, that was good enough. Morpheus was free to return to his realm and see the damage that had been done from being away so long.

He mostly just wished to see you again. A century was far too much time to be away from your side. His heart ached to be with you again.

Lucienne knew he had returned. She felt it.

Far out from the gates of his realm, he lay in the sand. Lucienne ran all the way out there to get him. She had never felt such relief before.

She ran over and shook him gently, waking him up. His blue eyes opened, and he saw her familiar and friendly face. He was home.

"Lucienne," he whispered her name.

"Your home, my lord." Lucienne was beyond happy.

"I am." He smiled.

She helps up to his feet. He takes a moment to look around. Lucienne is alone. He can only assume you are waiting back in the palace for him. The thought of seeing your smile again made his heart burst with joy.

The two make their way to the gates. Morpheus opens them. They slow open.

"Forgive me, sir, but the realm, the palace, they are not as you left them." Lucienne says, looking at him solemnly.

Morpheus looks at his realm.

Everything was in disarray. The palace was crumbling, falling apart. The luscious greens that surrounded his palace were gone. The realm looked... empty.

"What happened here?" He asks. His home, his realm, was nothing like it was. "Who did this?"

"My lord, you are The Dreaming. The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to decay and crumble."

"And the residents? The palace staff?" Morpheus asks.

"I'm afraid most have gone."

"Gone?"

"Some went looking for you."

"And the others?"

"They thought, perhaps, you had grown weary of your duties, and..."

"What? Abandoned them?" He didn't want to believe such a thing. "Had they so little faith in me? Had my own subjects not known me?"

"If I may, sir, there is one other thing..." Lucienne said, not sure exactly how she was going to break this news to him.

"What is it?"

"It's about your wife, my lord."

Morpheus felt his blood run cold. Had you abandoned him, too? Had you, the woman he adored above all others, lost faith in him?

"Where is she?" He asks.

"Inside, sir."

Morpheus turns back to his palace. You were still here. You hadn't left. He cursed himself for even doubting you. You would never leave him, not willingly.

He makes his way toward the palace, or what's left of it. Lucienne follows him, knowing he does not yet know the full extent of what happened.

"Where is she, Lucienne?" He asks.

"In your chambers, my lord. But sir -" Lucienne doesn't get to finish what she wants to say before he is at your door. He knocks, but there is no answer. He opens the door, ready to scoop you into his arms and never let go of you again.

However, the sight the greets him is far from what he expected. Morpheus swears he hears his own heart shatter.

"No..."

You lay in the bed, peaceful, quiet, asleep. He walks over to the side of the bed slowly and looks down at you. He reaches out to touch your hand.

"How long?"

"My lord-"

"How long has she been asleep?" He looks up at Lucienne.

"I assume, from the moment you were trapped. I told her to rest while we waited for your return. She... did not wake again."

Morpheus turns back to you and caresses your cheek lightly with his finger.

"I will bring all the dreams and nightmares back home." He says softly. "I will fix this." He does not take his eyes off of you. "I will wake you from your dreamless slumber, and we will be together again. I promise," he whispers.

Lucienne can only watch her king gaze at his beloved. She had done everything she could to keep things going in his absence, but she knew this would hurt the most.

The Dreaming would be rebuilt. That much, he was sure of.

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @mischievousvillainy - @kpopgirlbtssvt -

#symphony of dreams #morpheus x reader #female reader #the sandman #dragon writes

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love-lilly02 · 3 months

Text

The Challenge pt. 5

Authors Note: this one is gonna make yall mad, i already know it. Also i think i'm gonna have to create a schedule of posting on weekends as apperently all my ideas for this story hit on fridays.

Chapter warnings:

minor character death, mentions of suicide

“You can’t do that!!”

“I can and I will.” Laswell said, closing the file. “She’s on a solo Op and that’s final.”

The boys all rolled their eyes, sighing heavily.

“Let one of us go, Las. We can’t just let her walk into the lions den-“

“Price, that’s enough. She has her assignment, you have yours.”

“But we don’t have an assignment.” Price stressed.

“Exactly.”

Another round of complaints.

You had left the room long ago, departing as soon as you had received your mission. A solo op, just an intel gathering. Get in, get the information, get out.

Get out of one of the most heavily guarded buildings in all of Russia.

What could go wrong?

“Okay, I’ll be the one to say it.” Kyle stepped up, leaning forward in his chair. “I don’t trust that she’ll be able to get out of this place. Even with her level of skill, that’s something no one’s been able to pull off without dying.”

“If you’re worried about her, you can say that you know.” Laswell said simply, raising an eyebrow.

The whole room went quiet.

“Alright, look. I don’t know what’s going on between you four and her, but get it under control. I had enough of it when you lot-“ she points to Ghost and Price-“ wanted those two-“ She points at soap and Gaz- “to join your… whatever this is. I’m not dealing with four children mooning over my best asset.”

“We are not moonin’-“ Ghost protested at the same time Price said “I thought I was your best asset?”

Laswell just rolled her eyes.

“I’ll put you boys on cam duty. How’s that?”

“It’s enough.” All the boys agreed.

You could feel their eyes on you as you adjusted your weapons for the fiftieth time. The suit they had you in was very different from the gear you normally wore, instead of cargo pants and a vest you had on a completely black bodysuit with a matching hood and shoes. Various knives and fewer guns than you would like were hidden among your body, and you kept anxiously touching them to be sure they were actually there.

You looked like the Black Widow from the Avengers. As far as you could tell, the boys thought so too, with the way they kept sizing you up.

You weren’t entirely sure if you liked that fact or not.

You knew exactly why they had chosen you instead of Ghost or Kyle for this mission- you were a lot quieter. They could think quickly and kill faster, but at the end of the day you moved around quieter, left much less noticeable tracks than they did.

This stupid challenge supported that idea.

“Keep touching ‘em and they’re gonna rust, lass.” Soap called over the comms, and you shot him a glare. For the sake of the mission- and your life- you had decided to temporarily cast aside your feelings for their last behavior, allowing them to talk to you again. Some people, like Gaz and Price, understood you would need space after what happened. Ghost and Soap, however, did not get the memo.

“She’s allowed to touch ‘em, Johnny. They’re her knives. ‘Sides, I don’t suppose knives can rust by just touching ‘em anywho.”

“Awh yea they can! I’ve seen it ‘appen me self.”

“Drop it,” Price warned.

Both boys responded with a simple, “Sorry captain,” and the helicopter was silent again.

“Okay. One more time, what are you doing?” Price couldn’t help but be nervous as your drop zone crept closer and closer.

“I get dropped off and enter through a side window, go through some rooms and get to the main center to put the information on the computer with a red chip into a flash drive.

Price nodded and ran his hand along his beard, a nervous habit you noticed he developed.

“Okay, good. The boys and I will tell you where to go and when it’s safe over comms, and-“

“Price. I’ve heard the debrief over fifteen times now. I got it.” You said, doing one more quick pat down to make sure all your knives were in order. “I trust you. Now you need to trust me.”

“Drop zone approaching!” The pilot called, and they all watched as the plane opened to reveal the darkness of the night.

“Wish me luck,” You said, pulling the hood over your head.

“Luck,” they all chorused back weakly.

And you jumped out of the plane.

Anxiety coursed through Ghosts veins as he watched you jump. A while after, thirty seconds as planned, you deployed a parachute, barely visible in the night. It was dangerous to have a black parachute in the dark but it was a risk they needed to take.

There was complete radio silence the entire time you landed. That was another rule, unless you were receiving directions or telling them something important you were to be radio silent at all times. To “make sure no one hears or picks up anything,” as Laswell said.

Ghost thought it was a load of bullshit.

Simon agreed.

Truth be told, he worried for you. Both of him did. This was something he wouldn’t be able to pull off, not even with years of training for it. And they were sending you in with less than a few hours notice?

A suicide mission.

He hadn’t asked, if this was what you wanted to do. He didn’t ask if you were okay with risking your life, possibly dying, for the “greater good.” He honestly wanted you to disagree, he wanted you to protest, say they were stupid for sending you on this mission.

But you had just listened quietly and took the file.

“At the drop zone, headed to the entrance.” Your messages were short and to the point, and he could see the others relax at your words.

“Right, stay on standby,” Ghost said, loading up the cameras.

“Copy.” Then silence.

Once he got the feed loaded he quickly scanned the cameras for you, his eyes flicking back and fourth.

“There,” Kyle said, pointing to one screen. You were kneeling behind a bunch of crates, watching the entrance carefully.

“Okay. Move left, there’s a side entrance, you might have to pick a lock or two.”

“Copy,” and you moved towards the door. They watched as you crawled, seemingly gliding across the concrete floor. Once you reached the door, it took a total of three seconds for you to slip inside.

“Door’s are locked. What’s the next move?”

“Shit, that was locked?” Soap asked, even though his comms were off.

“Suppose so. Two desks down to your right.”

And so it continued. They gave you directions and watched as you absolutely flew though the levels of the building. Till finally, you were where you needed to be.

“Okay, transferring the information.” It shouldn’t take that long, Ghost told himself. He watched as you stayed crouched behind a wall, nervously tapping on your thigh as the transfer commenced.

“Done!” They could all head the relief in your voice, even if you tried to hide it. You put the computer back where it belonged, tucking the flash drive in your pocket.

“Good job, now head out the way you came, it’s-“ Ghost stopped short when he saw two men walk into the room. They were soldiers for the enemy team, the Russian flags in the middle of their vests displaying that. To your credit, you heard the voices and stayed pointedly in place.

The two of them spoke in gruff Russian to each other, monitoring the room carefully. They were going a bit too slow, getting a bit too close for Ghost’s liking. And, based on the way Kyle was gripping his shoulder, for him too.

They kept snooping, till finally one of them jumped out into your hiding spot.

It was absolute chaos after that.

You stabbed the one who found you, using his body as a shield when the other started shooting. You fired your own shots and landed one with rough time to drop the guy you were holding and run out of the room.

By this point, multiple alarms had been tripped, and you abandoned all sense of decorum, flying down steps quickly.

“Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yelled over comms.

Apparently that didn’t warrant a response.

The cameras he was using to track you were being taken over, and he was quickly loosing visuals.

“Mirage, do you copy?”

“Mirage, what is your position.”

“Damnit Y/N, answer me!”

But he was met with silence.

And for the first time since Las Almas, Ghost felt truly afraid.

For what it was worth, you had heard Ghost yelling over comms. And you had wanted to respond to him, but the current circumstances made that harder than you would have liked.

There were soldiers shooting at you almost constantly, and maybe about two or three snipers on other buildings. And you had about five more stories to get down, not to mention an entire parking lot- which was swarming with soldiers, you checked- and somehow get back on the evac vehicle alive.

One step at a time.

Having cleared two floors already, you burst through a nearby office, breathing out a small sigh of relief when no one occupies it. Over the comms you hear a voice saying something, but it’s Price now instead of Ghost.

“Mirage, there’s a supply drop headed your way, what’s your location?” He doesn’t sound as worried, and you can’t help but wonder where Ghost went.

“I’m hidden in an office, sir. If there was a drop there would be no way for me to reach it without being ambushed.”

You’re met with silence for a moment, before Price comes back into your ear.

“Copy that, just get to the parking lot in one piece. We’ll take it from there.”

You just roll your eyes. As if that wasn’t your plan to begin with.

The stairs seem endless as you run, down flight after flight after flight. You seriously considered taking the elevator but decided against it- they were Russian, not stupid. Once you make it to the room you entered the building through you’re throughly disappointed to find it’s occupied by a few armed guards. Nothing you couldn’t handle, so long as you went out quietly.

Carefully, you made your way behind the first one, pulling one of the longer knives out of your thigh holster. In your other hand, you slip a throwing knife, crouching silently.

It takes a good few minutes before you’re able to make a move, throwing the knife in the eye of the guard at the door before you stab the one in front of you in the neck. The other two load their guns, but you’re faster, flinging two more throwing knives across the room into their heads. You allow yourself the time to collect your knives and slip out of the door, just in time to hear more gaurds enter behind you.

Close calls that just keep getting closer.

You’re able to see the parking lot now. And as you expected, it’s absolutely swamped with enemies. There were small cracks in the defenses, however, just small enough for you to slip through if you were careful.

You stuck to the shadow of the trees, figuring darkness was your best cover. Carefully, you picked your way through the ranks of men receiving instruction, having to duck to hide behind cars multiple times. Finally, you were close enough to make a break for it and just test your luck.

And that dammed supply drop just had to show up.

Immediately, it set off widespread panic, and in the chaos one of the soldiers stumbled over to your hiding spot. Before you understood what was going on you were being hoisted up by multiple soldiers and brought into the center of a light, surrounded by angry Russians who were yelling at you in one of the few languages you couldn’t understand.

Finally, one man walked up to you and said simply, “Where is the band of coonies you work for?” He looked kind of familiar, with almost a dad bod and dark eyes to match.

“Don’t respond, that’s our target.” Price insisted, and as if he could hear him, the target looked up to your ear.

“American.” He spat out the word like a curse, and looked at you with an even nastier scowl. “A shame, you are very pretty.” He said something in Russian, and the men all raised their guns and pointed them at you.

“Wait!” You shouted, and to your surprise, the target stopped. He turned to you slowly, and raised an eyebrow, signaling for you to continue. Carefully, you moved your hand to where the flash drive hid, pulling it out. It glinted red in the bright spotlights, and the target stopped dead in his tracks.

“What is that?” He asked, stalking closer to you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You teased further. God you had a bad habit of teasing men. Maybe it’s what got you into these situations.

“Give it to me,” He said, practically running at you.

“Mirage, whatever you’re about to do, don’t. Do it.” Price was yelling, and you could hear the chaos of the helicopter behind you.

“Listen to me, American girl. I will give you one chance to give me that flash drive. And maybe we will let you out alive.” The target stopped a good distance away from you, holding out his hand. You just smiled.

With a flick of your wrist, the flash drive was replaced with a pin. “Over my dead body.”

And a grenade went off- right where you were standing.

Authors Note: this is completely random but i've decided to open my inbox for requests, not just COD but across all fandoms, and i'm doing a bit of blog reorganizing so i'll get to them fairly quickly (tonight that is)

also don't hate me lol the next chapter will be out next week if all goes well

My Masterlist

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

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wing-ed-thing · 4 months

Text

Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Part VII

Synopsis: You would say that you grew up together. From children, to teenagers, to young leaders, you did nothing but be who you were and Tobirama would forever name his love for you as the reason he hated the Uchiha.

Word Count: 5k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including graphic violence. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

Notes: Considering Izuna and Sasuke look so much alike, part of me wondered if I could use a picture of Sasuke for the front panel and if anyone would truly notice if I claimed it was a panel of Izuna haha

The gates to the Uchiha settlement were open, and enemy forces began gathering outside.

However, when describing the formidable territory the Uchiha had collected over the past few years, referring to their land as a settlement was a rather egregious understatement. The Uchiha gathered upon a sprawling territory equalling half the Grand Mountain range in addition to a handsome chunk of the flats, with the main sector they called home being in the center of the dense forest on a level section of the elevated land.

After a long and strenuous trek up the mountain, the foreign battalions sat in wait among the tree branches in the shadow of their last obstacle. Tall, jagged tree trunks lined the main sector of the Uchiha civilization, forming a wall stretching almost infinitely in both directions. The barrier was interrupted only by a single open gate.

It sprawled open in the cool night air. The sharpened ends of the wooden fortress pointed up toward the heavens, casting a jagged shadow across the ground to the treeline like ferocious teeth lining an agape jaw.

A slight breeze caused the leaves to waver as the shadow-shrouded leadership pondered the open gate. Desperation and bloodthirst were almost palpable among the forces, exacerbated by fatigue and impatience.

They ultimately trickled in against their better judgment, passing through the mouth of the Uchiha settlement in the moonlight. Years of passage in and out of the gate reduced the walking paths to little more than dirt and weeds.

The battalions pressed on. The commanding warriors motioned for their squads to fan out in the darkness, moving low and quietly to fan out among homes and buildings. The battalions proceeded stealthily across the beaten-down ground, filling the entire west end of the camp before they squatted in the darkness with weapons at the ready.

Stillness once again overtook the quiet compound.

The bright light of the full moon illuminated the settlement’s center, but the presence of the wooden fixtures left starkly black shadows around the camp’s perimeter. Even for nighttime, the shadows lingered a bit too largely among the buildings.

Not a single Uchiha walked the dirt paths or stood guard in the tall perches that littered the fortress walls. Those had been the largest consideration in the foreign battalion’s strategy, as with the sharingan eye, a single guard could see down to the base of the mountain and miles beyond. And yet, not a single Uchiha soul was to be seen or sensed in the dimness of the night.

A muffled grunt sounded at the back of one of the squads. Members of the rear squads turned in alert, only to find nothing there but a swordsman-less sword and a patch of trampled dirt.

And then the gate closed.

The honed ends slammed into ditches made in the ground long ago by movement. And before any response could be given to the disappearance of their most rear troops, all attention shot to the sealed-off exit. The invading force couldn’t help the surprised and horrified gasps that echoed through their ranks. Leadership hushed them quickly, whispering harsh words to recenter their feeble troops.

Red eyes began to illuminate the darkness.

Gurgling noises were swept off into the night as the warriors could only turn just in time to witness the corpses of their comrades being dragged off into the shadows. Kunai flew silently through the air. Blunt noises announced their impact, followed by the wet, squelching noises of blood spatter.

Members at the front of their squads were quick to light torches, illuminating the battlefield in a wave of flame to reveal the creeping Uchiha waiting in the murk. The Uchiha held their weapons at the ready with their piercing gazes. Some crouched near the ground, holding the bodies of warriors before them with slit throats. A few of the captured were twitching; heads hung as the barely alive men were forced to watch their own blood stain the fronts of their armor red.

With rage and fear in their eyes, the attacking forces led a charge, hollering out in the air with raised weapons. Their battle cries were enough for the battalions to summon back some courage lost at the sight of their fallen comrades. The clanging metal of swords filled the atmosphere as shouts rose toward the night sky. Uchiha stormed out from their hiding places, making expert use of their superior ocular abilities and quality weaponry.

The resistance was futile.

The sound of battle rang out, cries of pain only fueling the will of the Uchiha to defend their home. Forces gathered near the center of the main entry path, all having been stopped from moving farther. The enemy forces tried to press on in the face of their obstacle, but the bodies continued to drop. A mass of flesh and metal, the impact made an unmistakable clatter as carcasses hit the dirt below. One by one, they fell with a swiftness that dared to resemble mercy, and above them all, Madara emerged.

Madara Uchiha, who already had a tall and bulky figure in his teenage years, had filled out his crimson-red armor. It proudly adorned his broad chest and squared shoulders, the pieces clanging together harshly as he moved— like a snake’s warning rattle. Madara’s foot found soft flesh as he stood tall upon the mountain of corpses, his oversized weapon slung across the back of his shoulders and the full moon framing his head. He wore his scars pridefully, displaying his well-earned trophies as symbols of his strength. Madara was no longer a boy green in his leadership skills but a battle-hardened man.

And his vast, infamous reputation proceeded him.

A few warriors stood strong against him, holding their swords up as they cried out rageful battle cries, ready to engage in combat again. But they were far and few between compared to the forces that turned and attempted to flee.

Madara watched them with a critical eye, and the remaining warriors couldn’t help but glance out of their peripherals in horror as their remaining comrades were cut down as they ran back toward the closed gates.

It was a massacre led by Izuna Uchiha.

He expertly swung his katana— his movements looking far more like a dance than a slaughter— pivoting in a single place as he cut down the fleeing forces that passed. The retreating forces who managed to make it past pounded on the closed entrance as those on the outside of the crowd were slowly picked off one by one.

They clamored over each other, stepping on one another as they tried to climb up the towering fortress walls. Their wailing and begging resounded into the darkness of the night as Izuna moved in, his Mangekyō Sharingan allowing him to pay little regard to any attacking soldiers as he cut them down with ease.

The night turned silent once again.

Tall torches were lit, lighting the battlefield in a rich glow. The cleanup began as Uchiha dragged corpses and barely alive men through the dirt to a pyre. Children scrambled through the blood-stained village to collect weaponry that could be melted down and reforged.

Madara searched the piles of bodies himself, stalking through them like a proud tiger. Sharingan still ignited, he searched for survivors. Madara plucked one out of the pile by his hair. A strangled, boyish cry pierced the rotting atmosphere as Madara threw him down into a puddle of mud and blood.

The swordsman, a boy no older than seventeen, picked his face up and laid against the bodies of his slain comrades. A gaping wound stretched across his stomach at the bottom of his ribcage, staining the cloth he wore under his armor a sickly dark red.

Madara stared down at him with severe eyes. The black patterns were still swirling within the reds of his irises. The young swordsman met his gaze head-on like a cornered and wounded animal, teeth clenched and brow knitted.

His shaking fingers tightened weakly around the hilt of his sword, and in one last act of defiance, the young warrior pointed the tip of his weapon at Madara.

The entire sword shook.

Madara watched the display without expression, meeting the young warrior's gaze with a blank scowl. The young warrior quirked a semblance of a smile, painfully aware of his impending fate.

Madara extinguished his sharingan, ignoring how the sword’s tip swayed with the boy’s dwindling strength. It was kicked away, and Madara took the boy by the hair again, dragging him off.

The young warrior moaned in agony but ultimately couldn’t do much to resist. Madara dragged the boy along the ground, filth that wasn’t his own collecting in the young warrior’s mouth as the skin on his torso tore. His head hit one stair, then another, and when Madara threw him down again, he found himself on a wood floor.

The room was warm.

When the young warrior opened his eyes, he could barely make out what he was looking at, but then the handcrafted cabinets became focused. Vials of plants in vials lined the shelves. Dried flowers sat suspended in liquids. He couldn’t take his eye off the jar in the center of his sight: a thick-looking clear liquid with the heads of white flowers floating within. The petals were slightly curled, but the flowers retained their overall structure. He couldn’t think; he could only stare at the little flowers suspended inside.

He heard footsteps above him, somewhere just farther into the little building. The boy laid curled in on himself, unable to see much more than the shelf in front of him and Madara’s long legs, which ended somewhere out of his sight. The sound of the steps he couldn’t place was light and stopped short of him.

“I will grab another cot,” a woman spoke.

Cot? For him?

“No need,” Madara quickly cut her off. A few other Uchiha warriors entered the door, but the young swordsman could barely register anything. “Handle this swiftly.”

Another set of steps vibrated harshly through the wood floor. The young warrior’s eyes moved weakly, spying a familiar green armor from one of his allies. An Uchiha warrior hauled the corpse. The green-clad sleeve wavered limply in the air. He might have wondered how many of his comrades had been taken to this place if he had had more strength.

“Stay here.” The lighter steps walked off again. Even though they were traveling away, they were louder this time. The wood floor adjusted. The young warrior’s chest clenched, instinctively jumpy at unseen movement near his head.

“I have informed you that there is no need.”

“Ah, let another boy bleed out onto my floor then. I will ensure that the mop makes it to your hand,” the woman quickly snapped back. More noises resounded through the wood floor as she seemed to drag something forward. It sounded large if such a sound existed. There came a pause. “Well, do you intend to make yourself useful?”

“Woman!” The shout was loud enough to make the boy flinch. He wrapped an arm over his stomach. The bleeding wouldn’t stop. He could hardly feel the sting of the dirt contaminating his insides. “Do not push your luck.”

Before he could comprehend, the young warrior was lifted up. He gasped in pain, a noise of distress falling from his lips as his wound stretched before he settled on an elevated cot. A thick layer of fabric sat between him and the thin mat. A lantern light flashed, blinding him for just a moment as a set of hands came over his wound.

When he cracked open his eyes, he saw you. You stood over him, one hand stopping the bleeding of his large wound with a clean cloth. He flinched away as the other came toward his forehead. You brushed away some wet strands of hair stuck to his sticky forehead.

Madara stood a few feet behind you, watching over your shoulder. He took a long stride forward.

“That is enough with your nonnecessities,” he protested. You dismissed him with a sound of annoyance, holding your hand out to prevent him from getting any closer.

“If you cannot control yourself, you may wait outside,” you nodded without a second thought, departing from the young warrior’s vision again.

“Woman—” The foreign boy felt a sharp movement somewhere out of his vision. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of quick pivots and the sound of fabric snapping. Madara’s armor rattled. But the sound of a palm slapping skin that the boy anticipated didn’t come, and after a beat of slowly declining tension, you padded somewhere deeper into the room.

You left a cool breeze in your wake, and to his surprise, Madara remained quiet where he stood. The Uchiha clan head puffed to himself, the simmering of his temper not yet reaching a boil.

The door swung open, allowing night air to flow into the room, but the new spectator didn’t announce his presence.

The foreign warrior could hear you fiddling with something in your hands. Rapidly weakening, all the young warrior could do was hold the fabric you slipped under his hand on his wound.

When you appeared over him again, the lantern light illuminated the back of your head like a halo. And as you pressed something into his mouth, he couldn’t help but consider you one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

Even at this hour, your hair draped gracefully over your brow. You had grown into your awkward features from adolescence, your immature frame having settled nicely into a distribution of healthy adult weight and functional muscle. You filled out in the way your biology intended. This might have been the first time he’s ever seen you, but the way your skilled hands and sharp mind held a commanding presence over your apothecary didn’t escape him— even as the elite Uchiha warriors hovered over your shoulder with every move.

You must be Madara’s wife, the young warrior presumed somewhere in the fog of his dizzying head. He considered the thought amusing, for who else could talk to the infamous warrior Madara like you had?

“Tell me—” You spoke gently and turned the young warrior’s head to the side to face you. You wiped off some of the grime that caked his face. —“What clan do you hail from?” Your hand wrapped gingerly around his wrist, and two fingers rested below his palm. The words spilled from his lips without a second thought.

“Sugai,” he answered as if his throat had retained strength while the rest of his body waivered. The word spilled out from his lips. He hardly registered it himself.

The handful of warriors who stood behind Madara muttered amongst themselves.

“The Sugai Clan…”

“Were all your comrades members of the Sugai Clan?” you questioned. Were. You didn’t even have to leave your apothecary to know what happened to the rest. The young warrior didn’t register your tense. He only answered.

“Not all,” he said before his voice drifted into a faint whisper. You leaned down so that your ear sat adjacent to his lips. Strands of your hair fell over the clammy skin of his face. You kept a keen watch over the young warrior’s hands. The cloth on his stomach had changed colors completely.

You continued your questioning and interrogation in a soft, low voice. You muttered to each other in the lantern light. Madara waited with frustrated anticipation, simmering to himself. After all, Madara had little patience for your involvement to begin with.

“It appears that the Senju have migrated north.” You finally resurfaced, adjusting your robes and releasing your hold on the babbling boy on the cot below. “They are snatching up alliances, it seems.”

“The Sugai Clan has allied with the Senju?” one of the Uchiha warriors questioned from behind you. Madara swiftly hushed him.

“Silence.” The room returned to a standstill in an instant, nearly militantly. Madara took a moment to think to himself, crossing his thick arms over his blood-stained chest plate. He stared at the dying warrior on the cot, watching as the pool of red crept onto the fabric below. His eyes flickered to yours. —“Not just the Sugai, but all minor clans in the east have been pushed from their territories. The raid tonight was unsurprising, to say the least—” Madara glanced outside through a sliver in the ajar door as the bodies piled up outside. “Clearly.”

“Four other small clans to the southeast have allied with the Sugai now that the land between Uchiha and Senju dwindles by the day,” you added, leaning against the counter. A jar of processed flower buds— the same that you had shoved into the young warrior’s mouth— sat next to your elbow. Your eyes flickered again to Madara’s, watching him closely to gauge his demeanor. You were the interrogator, but then again, when the head of the Uchiha ordered silence, even you were not immune.

“Indeed—” He chose not to regard you. —“We expected as much. This information is not new.”

Without a second thought, Madara swiftly cut the throat of the Sugai warrior before swiftly retreating out the door with his war fan.

One of the men behind him collected the young warrior, throwing him over his shoulder to be burned with the rest of the corpses. The boy coughed up blood, spewing it onto the wood flooring.

The door flapped back and forth in the doorframe. You watched as Madara and his pack of elite soldiers left between sways of the door. They grew smaller in the distance with every wave. You lurched forward, intent on following after them, but an arm swiftly wrapped around your torso. The motion almost swept you off your feet as Izuna’s shoulder blocked you from racing out the door. He gave a bit into your velocity, pivoting a half-step backward.

“Do not go outside,” he warned. You gripped the arm holding you, looking into Izuna’s dark eyes. A neutral expression held his face in acute severity. You didn’t miss how he held you at a calculated distance. Izuna’s lip shuddered once.

“You are not my keeper, Izuna. It is not your place to stand in my way.” You brushed him off and ripped your arm away from his stern grip before readjusting the shoulder of your robes. He let you, watching the backs of your robes while uncertainty swam in his dark irises. You set out through the door.

“Madara!”

Madara ignored you, pretending not to hear as he stormed away, but by the third shout of his name, he reluctantly stopped in his tracks. His posse of elite military figures passed by him as Madara heaved a heavy sigh, his armor clattering with the motion before he turned to you. You made your way down the stairs. Smoke and mild debris wafted through the air as the Uchiha warriors made short work of tidying up the settlement.

“Madara!” You called again as he lumbered over to you. He held his back erect with his weapon still clasped tightly in his hand. Madara said nothing as he expressed his usual stoic demeanor. You stood at the bottom step of the apothecary with one foot on the ground. Madara stopped a few meters away, still within earshot. He did not appear anywhere near as concerned as you were as you questioned him with wide eyes, “Are you unconcerned that Hashirama has been named head of the Senju clan?”

Your words remained stuck in the air, caught by the particles and impurities that danced in the atmosphere. The smell of death floated in the cool, nighttime wind.

Madara’s lip dipped into a frown.

“Lack of concern would be reckless indeed,” Madara muttered, puffing another deep breath out his chest. He pivoted slightly, turning his attention upward toward the moon. “However, it is not as reckless as refusing an alliance with the Senju based on Hashirama’s lack of leadership experience alone in favor of attacking the Uchiha. Small clans certainly have foresight equivalent to their size. The Sugai prove to be no different.”

“I worry about what this change in leadership will bring. It is most unpredictable.”

“Then it is fortunate that you are not in a position to worry yourself over such things.” Madara barked out what could have been mistaken for a laugh. “We have engaged with the Senju countless times. Formidable as they may be, the strength of the Uchiha is far greater.”

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, returning to head deeper into the settlement again. Now that you had inserted yourself into village politics, Madara had had enough of humoring you. You followed.

“Tobirama Senju is a foul, beasty man. I can only imagine how— how objectionable the older one must be.”

Madara moved with wide strides, continuing with extra swiftness to purposefully lose you.

“And what do you know of Tobirama?” Madara scoffed. He faced forward, completely missing the expression of dread that fell across your face.

“The tales from Izuma, of course!” You quickened your pace.

Madara stopped once again, but you ran straight into his backplate this time. You stumbled back, a hand to your nose. Madara barked orders into the orderly chaos in front of you. He had taken to his role as clan head long ago and excelled in the position.

“For yet another time, you need not concern yourself with affairs on the battlefield. Do you understand this?” Madara only spared a glance over his shoulder at you. His irises flickering across your form with something akin to skepticism. Madara averted his gaze before you could meet it.

“You bring foreign boys to my doorsteps to rifle information from—”

“Enemy warriors who attacked your kinsmen and home.”

—“And you expect—”

“I expect you to hold your tongue and obey your clan head.” You stopped in the middle of your sentence at the sight of Madara’s sharingan. You frowned but looked away. You had pressed as far as Madara would allow. “Clean what you must in the apothecary swiftly, then go straight home.”

You retreated the way you came back toward the apothecary, sparing not even a pout of defiance at your clan head.

When you arrived, you found your space pleasantly lit as you pressed open the door. Izuna stood in the center of the room by the counter. A bundle of incense sat between his clasped hands. Izuna muttered a prayer as the smoke cleansed the apothecary. Death had occurred here, after all.

Izuna had lit every lantern and candle in the apothecary with his fire style, and the warm embers lit your workshop in a serene glow. The flame flickered in the reflection of the jar that held your truth-telling flower buds. A small line of smoke drifted from the incense, sailing up toward the high ceiling far above your heads. He followed the wisps with his eyes, tilting his chin up as he appeared deep in thought.

You guided the apothecary door shut behind you. Izuna continued to withhold his eye contact, almost as if you wouldn’t notice him and shoo him away if he didn’t meet your eye. The cleaning supplies had already been brought out of storage. The bloody cot— along with the others from earlier in the night— was gone, along with the bloody streak across your floor.

You stepped forward to inspect the wood paneling. No, some of the blood stains still remained, deepening the color of the previous one, which deepened the one before that.

“Women should not have to be so close to such barbarism,” Izuna spoke, gaze training on the little jar of flower buds. He placed the incense in a ceramic holder, lingering for only a second before finally turning to face you directly.

The orientation of his clothes appeared neat compared to the rest of him. Sweat, dirt, and blood layered his skin, deepening the complexion of his skin tone. Spatterings littered his armor. A prominent line of rust-red extended from his chest to over his right eye, bisecting his face with sanguinary matter. But his hands were clean— starkly pale and pristine in comparison to the blackish mix of earth and gore that stained his skin above his wrists.

“I will be standing guard outside,” he said, “I am well aware that you will not be sleeping tonight. I would normally protest, but it is preferable to you venturing outside.”

“Izuna—”

He offered you a nod and little else as he began to walk toward the door, the back of his robes fluttering with his stride. You stepped after him, swiftly snatching his sleeve. Izuna turned to you, his motion gentle.

“Izuna, please. You are being ridiculous.” It was uncomfortable meeting his eye. He looked intently at you as if just speaking was a contract binding his full, undivided attention. Even without his sharingan, it felt like he was looking right through you. “Stay. Let me treat your hands and cleanse your armor.”

Izuna’s gaze flickered gently down to your hand as he slotted his index finger into your grip on his sullied robes. He cocked his head to the side, more interested in searching for grime he may have transferred onto his skin than your protests.

“My presence here is unsanitary and overstayed.” He took your fingers in his, gently prying your stubborn hold off his sleeve.

“Bathe then and come back.”

He held your attention as he slowly circled you, backing up until he put himself between you and the door. Izuna continued to gingerly hold your hand as if keeping his touch on you would prevent you from acting recklessly. His lips quirked to the side at your notion, and unlike his older brother, who you could read like an open book, Izuna remained as composed as ever.

“Your attempts to deceive me into disclosing information about the military ventures of the clan are admirable, but I am not so easily fooled.” He gave your hand a soft squeeze.

“As if I would dare attempt to trick you—” You could barely speak the full sentence without your lips crinkling in guilt. Izuna’s cheeks creased, forming deep dimples on both sides of his mouth. He slowly released your hand.

“I will be right outside.”

“We hardly spend time together anymore. Do you remember our expeditions into the forest when we were children?” you trailed off. “Before all that happened…” Izuna suddenly formed an air of seriousness about him.

Izuna was the only one you told about your encounter with Tobirama— or, more precisely— that Tobirama had been the one to attack you. The feud between the Uchiha and the Senju had raged for generations, but confrontations rarely left the battlefield as the two large clans carved up territory. So when a warrior in training from the Senju attacked an unarmed Uchiha girl, the clan was outraged.

You left willingly to the coast with family and a few others. Although, given that the art of fishing knots was passed down matrilineally, this wasn’t out of the ordinary.

You were told it was to practice a protection ritual in the salty waters and lend your hands to bringing in fresh, coastal resources, but a deep part of you knew that the clan leaders worried about the Senju targeting young girls. And if any resource was more valuable to the Uchiha than salted fish or powdered shells, it was the upcoming generation of young women, for who would bear the next generation of Uchiha warriors otherwise?

In the wake of the Senju raid on the village, your relationship with Tobirama weighed heavily on you, blanketing your head and shoulders as his fur had for too many nights by the river.

Izuna seemed like the right person to tell.

You masked it as a realization. He only asked you how you knew Tobirama had been the one to attack you so long ago. Your response was vague, but Izuna didn’t push.

“It would not be wise of me to overstay.” His voice was gentle when he finally spoke. His light tone snapped you from the rabbit hole of memories that instantly plagued your head. Izuna backed up to the door, his fingers pressing into the wood. The flames that topped your simple candles wavered, but Izuna’s eyes didn’t budge from yours. He looked at you with a soft certainty. “I will be right outside.”

“Izuna—” You took a step forward but stopped short. His brows perked up slightly on his forehead as he let out a light hum. He held the door slightly ajar. “I—” Your words left you under the subtle pressure of Izuna’s gaze. You toyed with the seam of your robes but kept your attention locked with his. “Madara still fancies me.”

It was meant to be a question, but the words left your lips definitively, almost like an accusation. Izuna’s expression didn’t change, and his forced stoicism only served to confirm your hunch. The corners of your lips fell with your shoulders.

You turned with a snap, facing the counter behind you. You gripped the wooden ledge, intending to find something to make you look busy, but to no avail. Izuna continued to stand with the door ajar, unmoving.

“Why is it always about what Madara wants?” you puffed. Silence overtook the apothecary. The flames continued to waver. “It is true. You are far too loyal, Izuna. Do you not know of such things?”

The door creaked farther open before stopping. You refused to turn around, even as the back of your neck and back began to feel heated by the imaginary gaze that haunted your curiosity.

You took a breath, tilting your head toward a large jar on one of your shelves. You could just barely make out Izuna’s figure as he stood in the doorway, not wholly committed to facing fully away from you.

“I will be right outside until you are prepared to retire.”

The wooden door creaked quietly open before swinging closed, wavering in the night.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Author Commentary: Timeskiiip! They're all grown up! When I was writing this fic I imagined it like how they reintroduce all the nostalgic characters in a Pirates of the Caribbean movie. That's it, moving forward imagine Foul Creature of the set of pirates! That will certainly work! Tobirama may not be in this chapter, but rest assured this is still a Tobirama fic.

More importantly: In my experience, I always thought that people didn't like when series were, say, more than 5ish chapters. I found that a lot of people lost interest, so I tried to keep chapters themselves long and the quantity of them to a minimum. In my latest poll, most people didn't have a preference, but after that, people liked multiple shorter chapters. I wanted to wrap this series up in 2-4 long chapters, but maybe I'll drag it out a bit so I can post more frequently. Thoughts?

@gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

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mirohlayo · 6 months

Text

ALWAYS | CL16

inspired by the song always - daniel caesar

( charles and you broke up 6 months ago. but no matter what, he'll still love you forever. )

warning : sad, angst, heartbreaking (i'm sorry for that 💔)

word count : 1.7k

!! english not my first language !!

it still hurts. time passes but the memories remains. they remain profoundly anchored in his heart, in his head, and every day he hopes these tender and precious memories will never fade away.

maybe he's wrong for thinking like that. maybe he's wrong for losing his head over you.

maybe if time elapses rapidly, maybe if enough time passes, he will see you again. and you both will laugh together, heart fulfills with joy, never forgetting how much you were made for each other.

and he knows deep inside that he can't deny it. that there'll always be, no matter what happens, a place for you by his side, this same place that you sorrowfully left six months ago. this place will always be reserved for you, because he promised it to you, because he finally knows nobody will never occupy it the way you did.

laboriously lying down on his bed, charles closes his eyes. the moon softly shines in the nocturnal sky, skimming his hollow cheekbones. the light dimly illuminates his dark circles under his eyes, as if it had been an eternity since he last tasted a peaceful sleep.

it's night. and for those last six months, he found comfort in nighttime. because there is this quiet atmosphere, not a single noise disturbs him, apart from the unremitting sounds of the cars' motors which turn around his monaco building. he feels alone there, and that perfectly contrasts with this sensation you caused him since your departure. he terribly feels abandoned, lost and alone. like the moon is neglected among the billions of stars behind her.

and he closes his eyes. he wants to sleep. he wants to dream. he wants to dream about her, maybe to forget or maybe to remember. but he definitely doesn't do it on purpose, sometimes he dreams about you. because maybe that's what the night is for : arrange to meet the ones we love.

because he truly loved you. genuinely and profoundly. he fell very hard for you. and that since he first laid eyes on you. his heart rose when he saw you, his cheeks became hot when you smiled to him. his eyes were full of love and affection. it was as if he laid eyes on the most beautiful thing. and it was you.

his heart, his soul never stopped to love you. his body burns of love and desire for you, and all his being beg you to come back to him, to tell him everything will settle. because his poor heart awfully suffers, and every day he dies a little more remembering why you're no longer his anymore.

he loves you infinitely. never no one has ever been able to fill him with so much passion. he knows he truly loves you, from deep inside. he loves you for a thousand and one reasons, but mainly for the one he doesn't understand.

pretty lady. he liked to call you like this, even though sometimes you thought it was silly. but he knew you actually loved this surname, so he never missed an occasion to make you feel special.

so with his pretty lady, he used to walk down the streets. hand in hand, maybe shared earphones, and above all your love for each other. you walked slowly in monaco's streets, until he begged you to let him buy you a gift. buying you anything, as long as you were happy, it was the main thing. even though his bank account was empty afterward. but it was okay.

and he still remembers the fussing, the fighting, the fucking and the lying. most of the time, it was you getting mad at him for buying expensive stuff for your simple person. but sometimes, it was more an underlying and painful reason. but you always ended up reconciled, because neither could stay apart for too long. it was like that.

except last time, there wasn't a reconciliation. you left each other, teared apart and frightfully hurt. none returned to the other. and that haunt charles for way too long now.

maybe he's wrong for thinking like that. maybe he's wrong for losing his head over you.

he's fed up. he opens his eyes, and in just a fraction of a second, he's already dressed in a coat and in a scarf. he needs to get some air, he needs to think about something else.

was it by going to the cafe you always went to that he would really think of something other than you? no, certainly not. but he needs it, it's stronger than him. he pushes the door and immediately orders a warm drink.

and then he takes a sit in a secluded corner. he doesn't want to be seen, but from his spot, he can catch sight of every person present. a waiter comes to bring him his drink. he thanks him with a fragile smile. it's been a long time since he smiled brightly, like he always did with only you.

he takes one sip. two sips. it's warm, and it comforts him. because it reminds him of the soothing warmth you gave him when you used to hold him tight. and it comforts him as much as it grieves him. and the deeper the sorrow digs into his being, the more joy he will be able to contain.

and maybe this joy finally weaves in his heart. this joy which suddenly explodes at the view in front of him. he can't believe it. you push the cafe's door, a silly smile on your lips as a deep laugh echoes in the air. soon, charles' happiness transforms in bitterness and pain.

he knows it. he knows it dawn well. you moved on. you're no longer his anymore. you don't belong with him anymore. but with this new man who seems to fill you with happiness like he did with you before. his heart squeezes when you take the hand of your new boyfriend, dragging him to a table not far from charles' one.

you look so happy. your big smile warms his heart, but it cools down instantly when he remembers your smile isn't meant for him. no, it will never be intended for him again. and it hurts him terribly.

the same waiter brings you your drink, which you obviously had to share with the man that charles already hates with all his being. but on the one hand, he couldn't stop your man being better than him. he must accept his fate, he must accept that this man is the new chapter of your life. and that he only remains as a page that you have difficultly turned.

but he doesn't want. he still wants to have hope. he still wants to hold onto you, because he tells himself maybe one day everything will return to the way it was before. he prays for this day to comes, whatever fate does.

so he just doesn't care. he doesn't care if you're with somebody else. because he'll give you time and space to hopefully bring you back. he still hopes every day, because he wants you to know he's just not a phase. and that he never was one.

so, it's selfish, but he disregards the man who is sitting in front of you and back to him. he has a perfect view on your face. and he imagines only you and him, on a date, face to face. he imagines that the smile glues to your face is addressed to him, that all the sentences that come out of your mouth give him the impression that he is your confidant again. even if it's not the reality.

because one of the hardest battles we fight in life is the fight between the mind that knows the truth and the heart that refuses to accept it.

the more he looks at you, the more you pleasantly disconcert him. the more he closed his eyes, the more he missed you. and it wasn't good. it became suffocating. so he had to leave. leave the café, but not you. even though he knows he'll never have a second chance, he'll continue to hold onto you and to love you.

you had left to the bathroom. so he took the opportunity to leave the place. and leaving something behind for you.

you come back to your table, excusing yourself to your boyfriend for taking too much time. you keep talking with him, but the waiter just now approaches you. he points to a table lost at the back of the cafe, a cup of coffee still left on it and, a gray scarf.

a scarf which you perfectly recognize. gray and soft. made by cotton. a scarf you offered to your first love, the one you loved dearly for one year, the one you haven't seen since six months now.

"the man who was sitting here left. but he said this scarf was for you." the waiter says to you before getting back to the counter. you gently thanks him, and you try to avoid the questioning look of your boyfriend.

you desperately look to see if he's still here, if he's still present in the cafe. or in the street. because either you can't deny it, a piece of your heart still beats for charles. but nothing, nobody's around.

and meanwhile, charles leaves the street corner where the cafe is located. he returns to his apartment, alone again and perhaps even more hurt than before.

he left his scarf - no scratch that - he left you his scarf. maybe he did it on purpose to abandon a part of you, to pass on to you what belongs to you. to start forgetting about you. or just merely for you to remember him for ever, that every time you'll see this scarf his face will appears in your mind, and you'll be able to smell his cologne.

he thinks about you once again. in your pretty coat, your pretty hairstyle, and of course this man by your side. peacefully drinking your hot drink. he curses himself for not being the one to share your hot chocolate. your favorite drink that he knows you ordered tonight.

but it's okay. he knows it, he deny it.

it's all fine, you'll always be his. forever and ever, always.

always, you can count on him sure as the stars in the sky. always, you can count on him as sure that the sun will rise. always, his love for you ain't going nowhere.

always, he will be here.

for you. forever.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #charles leclerc fanfic

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fairykazu · 3 months

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LOVERS' OATH FT. XIAO ! cws: established relationship, in every universe, i'd find you, soulmates. notes: yes, ive been playing love and deepspace and yes, it is inspired by that. princess is used as a gender-neutral term but feel free to replace it with your preferred word, also i might write a part two idk yet masterlist + taglist: @aethion

an oath between two lovers who were forever bound by the soul bond, xiao was always destined to find you but it never meant that you two were guaranteed to fall in love with each other. it was the hundredth year that he was reincarnated into a new world. alas, he was tired. he knew it might take years to find you again but when xiao rested on top of a roof, admiring the moon.

he smiled.

it was the same moon that he had seen when he first met you where you helped him from forever being a royal pet to freedom. unlike the human form you’ve witnessed him in different universes. when you two first met, he was a beautiful bird that was bothersome to catch but heavily admired among the kingdoms. the vermillion bird was only caught once with the dragon lord but never again seen.

until he was captured again by a human who pursued and used the dragon for his own personal gain. xiao was a gift from one of your suitors in your kingdom, you were such a naive princess but yet, he was the one who fell for you first. when the duke, childe, was telling you how he caught the vermillion bird.

the cruel retelling of the story made you wince, knowing what you would do next. after your birthday party had passed, it was midnight and the moon dawned before you. you visited the feathered animal, trapped in the ornate gilded cage with delicate details, already in your room.

however, when you arrived, the vermillion bird was no longer a bird but instead avian. he was beautiful. admiring his porcelain / tanned skin bore scars that he had fought in countless battles and won; he was an affinity to the moon. but his wings? it completely contrasted the pale complexion he had. his peacock-like feathers, each one shone like rubies, reflecting the vibrant hues of the sunset. the deep emerald, green centerpiece of each quill took a resemblance to an eye.

you crooned to him, not sure of what to call him,“hello, mr. vermillion?”

despite being in awe of the sight, your trepidation of what would happen next worries you a little bit. he wasn’t looking at you but instead, he avoided your gaze like it would pierce his skin, leaving the golden cage bloodied with scarlet. “i’m so sorry about what duke childe had done to get you here.”

you were like a vulture, you circled around the cage. he kept himself to one corner and moved to the next when you were near. frowning, you noticed a small pool of crimson on the marble floor, staining a macabre tapestry. “are you hurt?”

he didn't want to be a prey to a foolish princess no less to be their pet. as much as xiao wanted to scoff, he stayed quiet, hoping your never-ending questions would fall to silence.

no reply.

you weren’t sure if the bird was able to speak the local language. “can i see your wound? i promise i won’t hurt you…” it was obvious in the avian’s eyes that he didn’t trust you. in every speckle of gold in his amber eyes, there was a speck of distrust.

you nodded, walking away from the cage and to the door. it's clear that he wouldn't trust me if i had guards protecting me if he did attack me.

cracking it open, you asked the guards if they could leave for thirty minutes. they were hesitated at first but after a couple pleas they left without saying another word. “i’ve called off the guards so you won’t be in danger. let me treat that injury and i’ll let you free. don’t you look at me like that?”

he sheepishly looked away, guilty. sounding a little offended, “i’m not a cruel princess that the rumors say i am.” taking a box under your bed, a safety kit, you brought it to the cage.

before sitting on the marble floor, you were inspecting the injury, you sighed in relief, “thankfully, he didn’t injure you badly. this might hurt.” you took the tweezers and gently nabbed the cut with a cotton swab. thankfully, it wasn’t a deep one.

he winced a little, his wings flinching with him. he tried to keep a calm demeanor but slowly relaxed in your embrace.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. it would be done after–” you cleaned it once more. “–there you go!” you notice his gaze on you while you take the spool of bandages with the scissors. you paused before asking “can i?”, referring to his wings.

he let out a hum. as you wrapped the wing, you made sure it was tight but not too tight in case he might have been uncomfortable. “are you okay?”

he only nodded. as promised, you led him to the balcony, the midnight skies were glimmering with stars. you glanced at him once more. when he stood on the railing, you noticed his bandages had fallen off and the wound had healed as quick as the wind seemed to hum around you two. just before he changed his form, he turned to you, “xiao.”

“what?”

“xiao’s my name. call me if you need me.” do birds like to return favors? that’s something you had to search up later with the librarians. as the bird took flight, it seemed to weave through the air with an almost ethereal grace, leaving a trail of crimson light in its wake. even though you had set him free, you knew that he’d be back.

you were right. but you didn’t know how often he had come back to see you, you barely see him in the day but he found solace in your bedroom at night. as the line between dream and reality had blurred, your bond with xiao grew stronger. regardless of the amount of suitors that would line up all around the kingdom’s borders, they were rejected.

xiao recalled the night, the night you had embedded a little bit of him within your soul. it’s his favorite memory to revisit and he could paint every moment with vivid detail. the kingdom sooner or later accepted the princess’s oddity of rejecting princes and princesses, even princess ayaka or uniting a good alliance with the abyss, prince aether. all because of a bird that never leaves their side.

as midnight drew near, he soared across the skies, noticing how the stars were no longer rivaling the bright beauty of yours. perched on the balcony, he chirped, a sound he would never have believed he’d make before. he heard your giggles and opened your double doors, the white curtains billowing from the breeze. “hello, xiao.”

the moment he was in your embrace, he transformed from his bird form. as you played with his hair, braiding it a little. he rested on the nape of your neck. “princess, are you afraid of us ever ceasing from existence?” he asked, his words buzzing against your skin. his wings were folded in, tensed because this was a question he wanted to ask moons ago.

it was a likely fate. he was immortal, you weren’t. it was bound to happen. but you paused, your fingers stilled from his hair, he was afraid since he couldn’t even hear you breathe. it was strange. he could hear the pin drop of a townsperson sewing but not you. “... i fear it. i used to believe that i could find an elixir to live forever, to be with you forevermore. but i know that’s just naive to think.”

he lifted his head away from you, “princess,”

“you can call me by my name, xiao.” somehow, xiao never was able to get over the formalities in your relationship with him. maybe, blame the man who raised him.

“...name, it could be possible.” you chuckled, tracing his scars on his hands.

“don’t humor me, xiao. i had grown up from the princess you knew.”

“not humoring if it’s true. when i was growing up, i’ve heard from my siblings that an avian could bind their soul to someone to be reunited in every lifetime.” you interrupted,

“that’s not being immortal, xiao.”

“but you will be with me in every lifetime. isn’t that better?” xiao replied, knowing already that you accepted the idea. or maybe he was desperate to keep you in his life, he wasn’t sure how he was able to live without you. before, it was easy, your paths never condiverged. he hated to thank that stupid ginger but if he had to be bruised until he couldn’t breathe just to be by your side, he’d take it.

“if you promise to find me.”

“always.” he replied, stretching out his wings. there was one quill that was different from the others, it was glowing with a dewy golden color. he opened one of your hands, placing the plume into your palm; it pulsed with a luminous intensity. xiao gestured to you to hold it over your heart as you did what he instructed, the feather felt as if it reached out and touched the tips of your soul just before it became one with you.

he kept his promise with you no matter what. even if the universe had it against him, making the relationship imbalance or never letting you within his embrace that crossed romance. despite the challenges and the obstacles he had faced, he managed to be intertwined in your fate.

this time, he won’t lose you again.

#astronetwrk #gender neutral reader #xiao x reader #xiao x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

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mncxbe · 7 months

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What looking in their eyes feels like♡

𝒇𝒕 𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓, 𝑷𝒐𝒆, 𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖

°☆○

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓

like looking at a reflection of all your sins and finding absolution

Your boyfriend has always been a people watcher and you knew that. Wherever you went, his cold gaze scanned the setting; analysing, weighing possibilities, reading people like open books. He understood human nature better than anyone; with just one look he could determine the true nature of one's heart, one fleeting look was all it took for him to know everything.

And yet here you were, legs loosely draped over the armrests of your blue velvet couch as you flipped through the pages of your book. On the other side of the room Fyodor idly plays the cello; bow sliding swiftly across the strings, coaxing mellow octaves. This was a song reserved for you only, the melody of his soul.

When you rose your head from the yellowing pages you met his violet eyes, petals of hydrageas piercing your soul like shards of glass. But there's something comforting and warm about this feeling, a knowing that he sees you for who you are and doesn't judge. No, he never judged you, he always loved you~ and if you looked close enough you could even see that adoration pooling into his eyes like honey in honeycomb.

𝑷𝒐𝒆

like the soft glow of the moon cast over a wisteria tree on a foggy night

You tossed around among the crumpled sheets, relishing the warmth of the morning sun on your skin; like a lover's embrace.

"Good morning sweetheart" mumbled your boyfriend in that sleepy morning voice you so adored. A mellow smile made its way to your lips as you turned to face him, shifting your body closer.

"Good morning to you too. How did you sleep?" you asked merrily and he nodded, sighing gently.

"As usual. But it's good to wake up next to you."

Reaching a hand to brush away his disheveled bangs you met his gaze- those pretty eyes of his, glazed in adoration- and your heart skipped a beat.

For a moment you watched as the soft rays of sunshine shifted the hues of his irises: silvery grey, foggy blue-violet, flakes of liliac; like a Garden of Eden bathed in moonglow.

"You're so beautiful you know" you whispered as you moved closer to press a chaste kiss on his forehead, causing the man to blush.

"I uh- thank you dear. You are too, my treasure"

Sweet. It was sweet how his face turned a rosy shade and his eyes sparkled. No matter how long it passed since you got together you were still not used to how expressive they were; conjuring up all the love he held for you.

They say there's no deeper love than that of a poet and looking into his soulful eyes you can't help but agree.

𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊

like watching the waves roll onto the shoes of the Mediterranean Sea~ blue and green

"Y/N" whined your partner from across the bathroom "Hurry up dove I wanna see how I look"

While still searching through the plush makeup bag, you turned your head to face a pouting Nikolai; perched on the edge of the marble bathtub- arms crossed over his chest.

"Just a second love I'm trying to find the liner" you reassured him before procuring a black stick from the bag.

Walking back to your boyfriend you nesteled yourself between his thick thighs and seized his chin, slightly tilting his head backwards.

"Now hold still. If I mess this up I'll have to do the whole look again"

A faint giggle rolled past his lips as he took in your concentrated expression; brows slighty furrowed and lips pursed as you drew sharp wings at the corners of his eyes. It was routine already, you doing his makeup on Halloween.

Once you were done you took a step back to admire your work, nodding contently. The black eyeshadow contrasted with his silvery hair, making his eyes pop; the emerald green of one and icy blue of the other were like the surface of the sea on a hot summer day: always warm and kind as he gazed at you yet still showing a shadow of a wild sparkle.

"So? How do I look" asked your boyfriend, interrupting your train of thought.

"You look like an emo snowflake" you replied nonchalantly, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose; but before you got a chance to do it Nikolai rose to his feet and slid his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

A mellow smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, hot breath fanning over your lips.

"Perfect dove. That's all I wanted" he chuckled, gently pressing his lips against yours.

𝑻𝒆𝒄𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒖 (for the anon that requested Tecchou content♡ I got a bit emotional with it)

like crisp yellowing autumn leaves filtering the afternoon or morning sun

Friday morning. Mid October. You watched the little white marshmellows slowly melting into the cup of hot chocolate. Outside, golden leafed trees lined the sides of the boulevard where you studio apartment complex was, the home you shared with your boyfriend.

As you rose the cup to your lips to take a sip, the faint sound of footsteps echoed behind you. A strong pair of arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

"What are doing angel?" asked your partner in a mellow voice.

You couldn't help but smile when you felt him resting his chin on your shoulder, warm lips peppering a string of chaste kisses on your neck. You reached a hand to ruffle his hair, soft locks sliding through your fingers like cashmere.

"Good babe. By the way I made you breakfast" you smiled, pointing at a plate on the counter where a simmering omelette lay folded. Your partner languidly moved his gaze to the plate and nodded before spinning you around and pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Thank you dear. You truly are an angel"

His sweet words and beaming smile had you weak in the knees. There was nothing you loved more than seeing Tecchou happy, because despite his gentle personality he always wore a stoic expression, as if he viewed the world from a faraway place. But not now, not when he was with you in the comfort of your shared apartment.

His gentle, amber eyes glimmered with adoration like pearls. They somehow reminded you of the yellowing leaves hanging from branches outside your condo, bathing in the morning sun and you felt your chest swelling with love.

You wanted to tell him how much you adored him, how happy and whole you felt beside him; as if he were the missing piece of the puzzle that was your soul, how he changed you in ways you never imagined were possible, how he mended all the parts of you that have been broken by others and that you knew he was the one for you- now and for all eternity.

But the langour brought on by your slumber was still there, fogging your brain and you pushed those thoughts somewhere in the back of your mind, saved them for another time. So you resolved to simply handing him your cup of hot chocolate with a smile.

"Go and eat your breakfast, love. It'll get cold"

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pinkcherryblossom18 · 8 days

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Moonlight Touches

Part 1: Yellow Tulips—Hopeless Love

Benedict Bridgerton/Reader

Summary: It's in the moonlight that you and Benedict find solace but peace always comes to an end some way or another.

Word Count: 4k

TW: Angst, fluff, idiots in love, arranged marriage, not period accurate (but neither is the show, so I don't really care), my obsession with cheese is shown in this (I love cheese), implied sexual situations, and implied premarital sex.

It is under the shadows of the trees that you find Benedict Bridgerton, laying upon the grass with his legs stretched out beyond him like a king upon his throne.

It is almost an endearing sort of familiarity when your eyes catch each others, a smile appearing on both of your faces with shines and glimmers of hope and a small, tentative love. It disappears a bit when your fiance tugs on your arm, regaining your attention from Benedict’s sorrowful green-gray eyes to Nathaniel’s bright blue ones that don’t seem to hold much depth in them when compared. “Are you alright?”

The question seems to shake you a bit and with one more glance at the second Bridgerton, you look back at your fiance and nod. “Yes,” you breathe out roughly in a mockery of a laugh. “I seem to have lost my mind a bit but I suppose it is warranted. It is a beautiful day is it not?” You wince at the blankness in your voice but your companion doesn’t seem to notice.

It is a beautiful day. There are no clouds in sight and the small breezes passing by temper the beaming, bright sun. But the wind isn’t fierce enough to do anything but bristle the edges of the tree’s leaves by a hare’s breath. A perfect day for artists to lay about and capture what is in front of them with spectacular strokes of blue, yellow, green, and black for the men’s hats that stretch for a mile long. The ladies themselves are dressed in an abundance of colors and you close your eyes while passing an artist, breathing in the scent of their oils. The image of a long legged man painting comes to the forefront of your mind. His long strokes are made with his wooden brush and there is a narrowed furrow of his brow as he concentrates with a heavy burden of the many painters before himself.

“I have no love for it,” Nathaniel says dismissively. His own attentions are focused on the men with expensive pocketwatches who have money to spend uncandidly and whose wives won’t mind as long as it doesn’t reflect badly upon them. “Good weather is for good payment and your company is well enough to stand without it in moderation.”

You suppose, had you not have experienced much better words of affection, that his own words would make you flush in some ways. He is demure with his affections but you are unused to such. When your eyes close once more, you feel thumbs on your cheeks rubbing away tears and a bright smile making you feel better about an unwanted engagement that you relay to a man who you love greatly.

In the shadows behind your estate is a grove which is home to redwoods and greenery that is a blessing to walk among during any time of the day. Currently, it homes both you and Benedict as you both walk over tree roots which seem to be illuminated in the moon's light. The whole grove is but the small laughs that come from you both fill the bark of the trees and the moss that lay under it so much that they seem to become agitated and are keen to trip you both with each and every step you take. It is Benedict who falls first and you who falls not long after laughing at his moonlight fate.

“Comfortable there?”

You only scoff and roll over onto your back while Benedict seems to find a nice soothing spot on his side. Though you are not sure how, as the grove’s floor is also filled with stray rocks and stones that are more useful for skipping on the pond nearby or tripping over. Despite thinking so, you don’t deter him from his position but only look at him instead with careful and calculating eyes. His brown hair has grown quite long now and his mama will pressure him into cutting it soon enough but it falls perfectly over his eyes and it frames his cheekbones in ways that only perfectly painted pictures or marble sculpted by careful, attentive hands of soothed skin can create. It’s then, on that moss covered ground, that you find yourself falling for the young Bridgerton boy.

His eyes do not look away from yours and in their depths is something you want to reach in and explore. “I actually am, if you should very well know. Not that you would know of comfort considering you are laying on a rock!” You giggle when he sits up fastly, wincing at the sore spot and stares down at the offending rock he just now noticed.

“It is not funny, I could have died,” he laments dramatically. You only roll your eyes at him and he glares at you in response. “I was comfortable actually until you mentioned it. Ruining things, as normal.”

A gasp tears through your throat and in small defiance, you look up into the trees which block the stars with their long limbs and stretching fingers. “You would have complained all of tomorrow if you had continued to lay there. I should get a thank you instead of complaints.”

A small rustle makes you peak over at him, watching as he rubs his side. “I still might actually.”

You laugh at him and soon enough, he joins mockingly.

Your long legged friend seems to have the tendency to pop up everywhere whenever you don’t need him to. It is whenever you are with your fiance that you don’t need him to appear or when you are alone. It is always worse when you are alone and he is there.

A need seems to crawl in you whenever you see him—something banging in the aortas of your heart and crawling like spiders over your lungs, suffocating you but it is a loving pressure of need and desperate want.

He never ignores you when you are with your fiance. You wish that he did. He doesn't ignore you when you find yourselves alone together. That is when you are grasping for another person to separate the two of you before your feet carry you towards him and your mouth works before your brain.

But neither of you are alone together at the moment but, despite not wanting to, you wish that you were. Instead of him being pressed up against the wall, he could be standing in front of you with his hands on your hips, guiding you to the music in small steps of such intimacy that it would feel as if you would burst. Benedict was a good dancer but you always found yourself lacking in that department but he never seemed to mind. He could handle as your toes found his own, your elbows at the wrong angle, and your knees wobbly as he whispers jests that make you laugh too loud for the ton and breathes promises to you that make you melt as his fingers come too close for proprietary.

Nathaniel is tight in his touches but he guides you the way Benedict never had. Chaos has always been both of your ways and you did so with smirks and wide grins that drove both of your mama’s to lunacy.

“Up a bit.” He nudges your elbow with a clean stroke of his finger before going back into position and with a deep breath you continue.

“Straighten your back, you don’t want to look like a slob.” It’s harsh but you follow along anyways.

Your strides are shaky and uneven but he fixes it with a small kick to your heel. “Loosen up, I will not let you fall if that is your worry.” You don’t say anything and a pale blond eyebrow ticks up. “That is your issue? I will not drop you, I can promise you that.”

There is a small drop from the ground to your window but it is a close view to the Victors who are more than known for spying on their neighbors. If they were to look out their windows now they would see Benedict Bridgerton lifting you out of your window, his hands on your hips and a smile on yours as you keep in your laugh. Sneaking out of each other's respective households is an old process but one that doesn’t lose its charm. The prospect of being caught is an alluring yet dangerous drug like substance that neither of you can get enough of.

You both sneak out to the gardens like thieves in the darkness of the sky and small kisses are exchanged on your way to the pond behind your house. The kisses are filled with small quips from you both along with giggles and remarks of your wickedness in sneaking out in the black of night. Still, neither of you leave for more modest options and leave these less pure deceptions of your respective families for when your season starts soon.

It’s the mischief in his eyes that gets you walking faster to the pond. The promise of something that will be unforgettable in the dark waters of your family's pond that is normally filled with ducks or geese who have claimed it as their own. In your luck, neither have decided to take nightly refuge there and so you and Benedict lay out a blanket and lay down to look at the sky.

Talks of the future are covered with conversations about hobbies and aspirations. Your own are of a home in the middle of nowhere with cats, books, and a nice fireplace with the solace of only yourself should everything go south with your current prospect. Benedict's own are of oils and canvases and dreams of being more than a second son. Still, even when you speak them into the sky and to yourselves, they seem hopeless.

Because you are still a woman and he is still a second born Bridgerton son.

The upcoming season holds many promises from the new ladies who will be introduced into society and thrusted upon men by their mamas for marriage. One of the new little ladies to be introduced into the marriage market is Daphne Bridgerton which comes as a small shock to you when you see her walking in small, confident strides toward Queen Charlotte. You had watched the girl grow up and now watching her brings small tears to her eyes and you wave shortly when she makes eye contact with you.

Across from you stands Benedict whose eyes are pinned to his sister's form as she is introduced to the queen for judgment. It is a tense affair which ends with a small kiss to her head and an announcement that the Diamond of the Season had been found. You clap fiercely after she stands and Natheniel joins from beside you with small effort but he seems to try and replicate the wide smile on your face onto his own.

Daphne turns around to leave and once more you make eye contact with her and smile. “Congratualtions,” you whisper to her as she passes and if anything, her smile seems to widen.

Perhaps it is because it is from a former Diamond of the Season or it is from the woman who her brother was courting that makes her smile. Still, the great pride swelling in you dims down when you face Benedict once more, his own slipping a bit but ignoring shared feelings seems to be a sport that you both excel at.

The end of the introductions are soon over and you meet with Penelope afterwards to give her your regards for her and her sisters shameful introductions. “You must walk with severe confidence later today at the ball. Men will come flocking at you then if you do so. They appreciate a nice challenge but not too much then they avoid you like the plague.” You move her bright red hair off of her shoulders a bit and sigh. “You must get your mama to change you from yellow. It doesn’t do your complexion well I’m afraid. Perhaps a nice purple or blue?”

The implications of such colors bring a flush to her cheeks and Penelope hisses out your name between embarrassed lips. “You cannot say that! What if someone were to hear and they would think that you imply that a—” she stops and looks around before breathing in small, quick strokes of air. “Mama is quite firm on our color scheme. It would be difficult to change it now.”

“Oh hush. I’m sure I can get your mama to change her mind,” you say, waving your hand dismissively while looking around for Lady Featherington.

Penelope hisses your name again and you look at her with firm intentions but her own stubbornness is clear. “It is alright,” she says. “Yellow is not the worst of colors to be dressed in.”

A sigh breaks past your lips and the sights of Nathaniel staring at you, beckoning for you to hurry along doesn’t help with your opinions in regarding the outfits that Lady Featherington insists on throwing upon her daughters. “If you insist then.” You give her a small hug before walking away. “I will see you tonight.”

The corset that your mama had insisted upon putting you in tied so tightly that you are sure that one more long breath of air will break your ribs. You say nothing to her though for she has been incredibly fussy as of late and is growing even more intolerable as your season comes closer and closer. Of course, you fare no better. Anxiety tears at from all sides as the hours tick by and the days pass both slowly and quickly. Your late night talks with Benedict when you both sneak out at night help you fall asleep when everything nips and bites at your brain from all sides. His words are calming and so are his soothing touches from his fingertips that ghost over the edges of your skin as he speaks to you gently. Your plans that you both have made for the season help as well—Benedicts plans are normally well thought out when it truly matters and in this instance it does.

You walk confidently towards the queen and with the prowess of a woman who is already married—which you will be soon enough if your plans go smoothly enough. She stares at you calculatingly and when you curtsey towards her, you hear her stand and soon enough her fingers are under your jaw and you are staring into her brown eyes that are filled with mirth.

A small kiss is placed on top of your head and you are almost sure it is the faintness that you feel when she declares you a Diamond of the Season. It isn’t until afterwards when your mother brings you into a tight hug and Benedict gives you a wide grin that it truly sets in.

The ball is a grand affair with lively music and plenty of food for you to ignore the ton with. Though Nathaniel is contrary to your plans for the evening which include being at the food table and ignoring everyone and drags you to speak with others around you. He makes you introduce yourself to many Lords, Ladies, and even a few Dukes and Duchesses that are much like himself. Many of them are fine company, well read and good speakers that can relay information to you with eloquence and honor despite their words differ from such. Nathaniel mostly stays quiet while they speak and you try to follow his example but every other lady pulls you deep into conversation. The big topic seems to be your wedding. Something that you have been putting off and Nathaniel hasn’t stopped you from doing so, his papers and numbers taking much of his time and space of mind anyways.

“You two have been engaged for nearly two years,” Lady Marjorie Hawksworth says, seeming to be scandalized by such a thing. “There must be some reason why you two haven’t married yet. Sickness has been rampant lately, so I can see that to be a good enough reason to not have a wedding. Your Duke is quite busy but even then he could set aside time for a short wedding and a quick honeymoon.” She laughs and sends a particularly nasty look at her husband. “Though, my own wedding was that way and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. So what is the reason?”

A firm hand on your hip makes your eyes dart up towards Nathaniel whose lips are tense and puckered with annoyance. His blond hair is swept back from its normally messy state which you have only seen on days that his work takes a certain great hold on him. “As you have stated my lady, I am busy many days out of the year but my fiancee,” he brings you closer then, almost shoving you behind him, “is a free spirit of sorts. We have done some great traveling and wish to do more before children tie both of us to our home.” Lady Marjorie flushes and opens her mouth before closing it again. “Ah, Lord Bridgerton! How would you feel about having a dance with my lady in place for me at the moment?”

Benedict stops in his tracks and looks at you for a long moment. You stare at him with shock that Nathaniel is giving you permission to dance with your former lover and hope that Benedict will say yes. It’s a few beats more before he extends his hand towards you. “I would be honored.”

Your dance card fills up rather quickly as the night goes on. Every line is filled with various names of potential suitors who you won’t consider for a second. Though the last line is being saved for a particular person who has made it his mission to hide away from you like the fox he is.

For a moment, you consider looking out for him but it’s a small quest that you don’t want to take and sooner than later he will get bored with his little game and find you himself. So you perch yourself near the food table and raid it for all it’s worth secretly. The only person who seems to notice your little racoon adventure is Lady Danbury who only smirks at you with a secretive smile and you give her a small, sheepish smile behind your hand as your mouth is currently stuffed with the small little cheese blocks.

“Are you planning to save any for everyone else?” Benedict asks from behind you. “Or are you on the path to eating all by yourself?”

You turn around and give him a smile and a piece of cheese that he pops into his mouth. “I can share and I am sure that there have been plenty before me who have picked at it.” You look at the platter again which is devoid of the small square blocks. “Or I have eaten them all and I will surely pay for it later,” you whisper to yourself prompting Benedict to laugh at you.

“Well hopefully before your stomach decides to fail on you,” he holds out a hand, “I can give you a dance first.”

You cock an eyebrow and look at him with false disappointment. “It seems that my dance card is all filled up, Lord Bridgerton. I cannot dance with you tonight.” You turn around and look at him over your shoulder. “Perhaps another night will yield better results and you can dance with me then.”

You go to walk away but Benedict’s hand catches your wrist and holds it up so that he can peer at your dance card. “It seems that you have miscounted, my Lady. There is still space left for one more dance. Would you do me the honors of letting me take it?”

A sigh falls through your lips and you take his hand in your own. “If I must,” you tease.

“You must,” he replies.

Benedict guides you through the swarm of people with a delicate hand. You’re sure that, under his gloves, it would be a much rougher touch than the one that his gloves give but even then it would still be soft. Of course you would know for you have felt those hands plenty of times before. On your face, hands, neck, on the bareness of your hips, and the insides of your thighs where his fingertips have grazed so lovingly.

You hope that no words will be passed between the two of you but with Benedict, it is a false hope. “How has your night been so far?” He asks. It’s clumsy and awkward and so unlike Benedict but you can’t help but feel something in you ignite anyways.

“It’s been fine,” you say curtly. Benedict winces at your words and you feel guilt inside of you but it is for the best. You know that. He does as well. But it doesn’t make anything easier—nothing about being near him ever is.

He nods. Soon enough the dance ends and you can’t get away from him quick enough as you drop his hands and tear away from the dance floor.

You ignore his hurt whisper of your name. You ignore your mama, your father, the ladies you pass and even Nathaniel who comes to your side quickly for whatever aid you might need. You only brush him off and storm outside, toward the gardens. Quickly you find solace in the shrubbery and sit down on the bench. Tears flood your eyes quickly and your head drops into our hands. It’s a hopeless thing, that is what you know for certain. Love still swirls hard within your heart but it is nothing but false hope.

The sound of a cane makes you jerk your head up and you are met with the eyes of Lady Danbury who only looks at you with pity. “You poor dear,” she whispers.

The park is a bustling paradise of bodies moving so frequently and with such busy talkers and opportunists, you and Benedict can slip away unnoticed. He is the one to mention such a thing after you and his mama were done talking. And courting couples are quite known for disappearing anyway.

The ton are easy to navigate through, only having to stop every now and then to converse before being on your way again. Only a few question why you both are without chaperones but they are easy to deter. “Well, with enough people around our families thought it safe enough to walk around without one of them,” you both feed to the inquiring Lords and Ladies.

The trees are enough cover when you both dart into them with muffled laughs and quick glances around you. You go in first, dropping your fan into the bushes that crowd one of the trees and go to grab it. Which, while painting Benedict as a poor gentleman, does help to cover you not coming back right away. Soon enough, he joins you within the cover of the trees and you both bound into its depths.

Soon enough, you are both nestled deeply in the woods and you turn to kiss him. It is unlike your normal pecks of affection when he presses deeper against your lips and you do so back. Benedict twines his hands in your hair and pushes you back a few paces so that you are rested against the bark of a tree. His teeth nibble at your lip and a small moan tumbles out which gives Benedict enough time to slide his tongue inside your mouth. Then you feel one of his hands drop and grab the edge of your dress. “Can I?” He whispers against your mouth. You pause and look into his eyes, they’re darker than normal with clouds of something that you can’t place.

Then, you nod.

Saltlake Manor is a towering thing that rests on the edge of a great expanse of wood. Nathaniel had told you repeatedly that he wouldn’t touch it out of respect for his grandmother you had started a small garden within and his mother who had continued it.

“You could as well,” he tells you with a small smile over dinner one night. “It has become a small tradition, my sister even worked on it with my mother and I hear you have a love for the grove behind your own estate. I can show you around after, should you like.”

You had liked it. It was a beautiful little thing and there was enough space to expand it and along with that there was a small burrow nearby. The rabbits that inhabited it were out and Nathaniel had even managed to pick one up, letting you hold it for a while before giving the little thing back to the mother. He had offered to even buy you one as a present but you had stopped him from doing so as your mother would have a cow if you showed back to the drawing room with a bunny in your hands.

Contentness was a great offer with marrying Nathaniel. He was an older man, in his mid-thirties but he had taken no wife before you and perhaps wouldn’t have if your father had never presented you for him. Already he showed you a great promise of a good life and a few children were inevitable but you were sure that it wouldn’t be all too bad. Most older men doted greatly upon their young wives and even when courting, he already did. It wouldn’t be horrible to be married to Nathaniel Silverthorn—and that was what you were here to finally propose.

You had told your mama of your plans and she had almost thrown you into the carriage with her extreme excitement. Though, now standing in front of the door of his office, doubt started to creep upon you but you shoved it down as the door opened to reveal the man himself.

Nathaniel looks at you with a wide smile. “Oh hello, I wasn’t expecting you today,” he remarks fondly.

“Yes I know. I should have sent a message beforehand, I’m deeply sorry for not doing so but I need to talk to you about something important.”

His eyebrows furrow, concern riddling his features as he opens the door further and lets you into his office but he leaves the door open for propriety's sake. “Are you alright?” He asks, grabbing your hands gently.

“Yes, I am.” You squeeze his hands and look into his bright blue eyes that differ so much from Benedict’s own. “I am ready.”

Those blue eyes light up like lanterns and a smile climbs upon his face like a sprawling river. “You are?”

No. “Yes. I am ready to be married, Nathaniel.”

“Nothing happened mama. I swear, we were only walking, that was it.”

Your mama shakes her head, her cheeks are flushed with anger and you can tell that she is resisting the urge to yell. “That is not what Lord Berbrooke said. He said that he saw Lord Bridgerton and you…in an intimate manner,” she chokes out in disgust and great shame.

You scoff. “You do not question what Lord Berbrooke was doing in those woods himself?”

“It does not matter!” She slumps down on the chair beside you. “Already there is talk of your actions with Lord Bridgerton and your ruined purity. You will have to marry him!”

“My purity is not ruined, I can promise you that mama. Me and Benedict are courting anyways, marriage was already in the cards.” You stand up and kneel in front of her, grabbing her hands. “Let me talk to father, he will understand then.”

She shakes your head. “Your courtship with Lord Bridgerton has been annulled this morning by your father and the Viscount. Other plans are to be made for you.”

As if on cue, your father walks in with a stern expression. “I have traveled to Saltlake Manor to speak with Duke Silverthorn. He has agreed, that despite the rumors, he will marry you to save my ruined reputation.”

You stare at him, confused. “What?” You breathe out, a fuzz in your ears which block out all sounds but your own heartbeat and the baritone of your fathers voice.

“You will thank me one day,” he spits out your name with vitriol and turns back around. “You will marry the Duke when the season is over, should you not be showing by then.”

It is there, on the floor, that you feel the waves of nauseousness. The feel of heartbreak against your soul. And your mama grasps your hands tighter when you go to stand, a rope keeping you tied away from running towards Benedict. She pulls you towards her, letting you cry into her shoulder.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton

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