#cress can throw down

[justminawrites]

Satellites

AO3

1 | 2 | TBC

Jacin woke with a splitting headache.

It didn’t take more than three seconds for his lunar guard training to kick in: Rope. Chair. Feet. Metal. Breathing. Cress. 

As his eyes adjusted to the complete lack of light in the room, Jacin flexed his wrists, which he found were tied behind his back with a length of plastic-resin cord– standard issue for lunar prisoners. 

Rope. 

He was sitting on a hard, uncomfortable metal surface, but from what he could tell everything around him was metal. The seat was metal, the ground under him was metal– either they were in a  shipping container, or a torture chamber. 

Jacin tried to ignore the pounding in his head, echoing like drum beats, like the military exercises he’d once been so eager to playact, when he was young and naïve enough to believe in his country. 

He’d noticed immediately that whoever had tied him up had taken his shoes, and tried his best to repress a shudder as the cold leached into his bare skin and crawled up his legs, leaving tiny goosebumps in its wake. 

Chair. Feet. Metal. And the last one was– 

“Cress,” Jacin called quietly, shifting his arms in an attempt to loosen his binds. 

She was cuffed to him, the two of them back to back, and still unconscious - he could feel her petite frame pressed against him, sharp shoulder blades digging into his spine, and tried his best to shake her awake.

“Cress,” he repeated urgently, wondering for a second if they’d drugged her harder than him for some reason.

“Uhn.. no Carol.. I can’t come in.. today.”

Jacin tried not to feel too relieved at the sound of her mumbling. This plan would go much slower if he was the only one awake to execute it. 

He twisted his hands a little, grabbing the closest thing he could reach (the skin of her forearm) and pinched. Hard. 

“Mm.. what– OW!” Cress shrieked, jolting from the pain, but he instantly shushed her.

“We don’t have much time,” He hissed as she took a second to take in her surroundings, “–if I’m right, they’ll start it up the moment we show signs of being conscious.”

“Start what?” She shot back, still emotionally stinging from the wound, “What’s going on?”

“Let me get out of these ties first.”

As Jacin worked to quietly slip out of the ropes, Cress swore (that was new), turning this way and that, making it difficult for him. 

“They took it!” She whisper-shouted in panic, “They took my shoes, they took everything– oh stars."

Jacin finally grabbed her hands to make her stop. 

“They must’ve searched us before they locked us in here,” He explained as patiently as he could,

“That’s probably why you’re missing your taser.”

“No you don’t understand, they took the– wait how’d you end up here?”

Jacin let go of her and continued to work his hands free. After a few seconds, he managed to get one of them loose and released a long, drawn out breath. 

“Drugged,” He said matter-of-factly, “Same as you. I managed to get the one hiding in the hover but there must’ve been a sniper in one of the opposite buildings.”

Cress stayed quiet for a few seconds and just when he thought she was about to apologise for involving him in all this, she huffed,

“I knew it! I knew this was a bigger deal than everyone said! Take that, Carol.”

Jacin’s jaw twitched. They really hadn’t been friends for a while.

The Cress he knew was so filled with doubt and uncertainty, even on her best day, that she spent half her time clinging to her boyfriend like he was some kind of social screen through which she could filter out any potential rejection.

It had been six long years since the lunar revolution, but everything about Cress seemed to have changed in the last 6 months - since he’d left Artemisia and she’d begun her new job as a member of the ISA (Information Security Analyst) Department of the Lunar Government.

Even in his wildest dreams, Jacin wouldn’t have pegged her for a patriot, much less a civil servant; Cress was the last person from their old crew he’d envision carrying a gun and reporting back to someone, and that included the Emperor. 

“No please, don’t thank me for singlehandedly orchestrating our rescue,” He replied wryly, freeing his other hand and stretching his cramped muscles, before turning around to untie hers.

“Huh, oh thanks, Jacin,” Cress said absent-mindedly, shifting around in the dark once he’d pulled away the rope.

“Sorry for getting you inv– oh, I knew it! It is gone!”

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” Jacin said, rising to his feet. 

The room was still completely dark, so he reached for the nearest wall and began to walk alongside it, gauging its perimeter. 

The wall was smooth, but with sharp corners, not disproving his shipping container theory, and the room was about as big as a lunar palace bathroom, or a medium-sized swimming pool. Once he’d paced the length twice, Jacin started to look for any telltale grooves or panels that might hint at there being a trapdoor.

“Find anything?” He nearly flinched as Cress’s soft whisper tickled his left ear. She’d gotten taller; another thing he didn’t recognise about her. 

“What’d they take?” He asked, instead of answering the question, “–besides your shoes.”

“My jacket, my weapons, and the USB I had on me, with all the details about the encryption glitch.”

Cress didn’t sound angry, just puzzled, as though she was trying to get into the headspace of the attacker who’d done this to them. He couldn’t see her face, but he imagined her wrinkling her nose in frustration and clamped down on the sudden urge to snort. Jacin would never admit it, even to himself, but he’d missed her.

“Isn’t it strange? Why would they take our shoes?” Cress wondered out loud, her voice moving from his left to his right, “Just to check for weapons?”

“Could be just to mess with our heads,” He shrugged, “Psychological torture.”

“Wow,” She whistled, “You haven’t changed one bit. How do you say the scariest things with a straight face?”

“You can’t see my face,” Jacin countered, still feeling up the wall, “I could be smiling.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.”

“And you never will,” He promised, now knocking on the metal to check for hollow spots.

“Aha!” 

Jacin turned away just in time as a sharp spear of white light sliced through the darkness and shone right onto his face. He blinked away brown spots as the flashlight now pointed to the wall he’d been blindly examining, Cress on the tail end of it, holding what looked like a tube of lipstick.

“Lip-light!” She said helpfully, though he hadn’t bothered to ask. The unexpected brightness had only confirmed what he’d been afraid of.

“Nothing,” Jacin said flatly, a flicker of fear colouring his tone. The walls were as smooth as the floor; there was no way out.

Cress didn’t say anything as he sunk to the floor, his back to the wall and tried to focus on a solution. Maybe the perpetrators would attempt to contact with them through a built-in speaker. Or some kind of chute? But he knew that it’d be too late by then; they were goners if they waited for any kind of acknowledgement from the people who’d kidnapped them.

Jacin watched Cress wander around the room in no particular order, shining her lipstick-flashlight in each corner before finally coming to sit beside him. He hadn’t realised he’d shifted away until she shook her head in disbelief.

“Really, Jacin? I’m not contagious, y’know,” she huffed, hugging her knees to her chest.

“So those yoga pants were a deliberate decision then?” He couldn’t help himself.

“Ha. Ha.” She switched off the light, plunging them into darkness again, “I get it. You’re too cool to hang out with your nobody friends now.”

“I never said that.”

“Well, you sure act like it,” Cress sighed, her voice sounding strangely old, “Scarlet and Wolf ask about you all the time, even Iko wants to know why you never reply to her comms or her vidlink invites or the e-birthday-cards she sends every year.”

Jacin noticed she’d chosen to omit a certain space Captain from her list of well-wishers but refrained from asking why. It wasn’t his business, after all.

“Scarlet asks about me?” He said instead. 

He remembered the redheaded Earthen girl Winter had so impulsively befriended; the two had gotten off on the wrong foot, and it was impossible to imagine them tolerating one another, much less her actively being concerned for his well-being.

“You haven’t shown up for the last three anniversary dinners,” Cress listed off the top of her head.

“You never participate in our group vidlinks– even Cinder turns up and she’s a princess for star’s sake!– and, up until a few weeks ago you didn’t even set foot outside Artemisia.”

“This has nothing to do with Winter,” Jacin replied reflexively. Maybe he’d gotten used to the temperature, but the room seemed oddly humid now, something like sweat prickling the back of his neck.

She gasped like she’d caught him in the act, “And don’t get me started on that whole scandal with Princess Winter! I commed you so many times–“

“Cress,” He warned, “Drop it.” 

“It would’ve been nice to get a comm back y’know,” she pressed, “I was worried about you.”

His breath caught in his throat.

“I’m worried about you.”

Winter turned her big, doe-like eyes on him, closing the box he’d just given her. Blood and shame coloured his cheeks, and he was glad no one else was around to see them.

“Look at me.”

She took his pale, shaking hands in her own steady ones.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

“Jacin?”

He snapped awake like he’d been shot. 

Jacin was splayed out on the floor, blinking away a shorter blackout than what he was used to. Cress hovered over him, her cool fingers on his sweaty brow, the lip-light illuminating the grey, stony ceiling above them. 

He caught her wrists and pushed them away. Gently, he hoped, as her eyes flashed with hurt. 

“Please,” he said tightly, propping himself up, I just need some space. She pursed her lips but scooted back.

The air had gotten thicker, a humid soup bowl of sweat and the faint smell of burnt plastic, and both he and Cress were sweating now. He reached behind him, pressing one palm to the wall in confusion and felt it pulse with warmth. What?

“Was that normal?” Cress asked finally, looking over his shoulder, “Do you faint like that regularly?”

“I don’t faint,” He replied, absent-mindedly checking the ground beside him for where he’d tossed their ropes. 

“Jacin you just collapsed out of nowhere,” concern bled into her voice, “Are you seeing a doctor?”

“I’m fine, Cress.”

Jacin waved her away as his hands found the thick, white cords that’d been used to tie them up. Parts of the plastic-resin had melted into itself, softening and curling into useless putty, while the rest stayed firm.

“But–“

“Pass me the light.” He said, his voice sharp. 

She handed over the lip-light, startled, and he rose quickly, now heading over to the metal bench they’d been tied to. Jacin turned the little flashlight to the ceiling right above it and swore. Loudly. He should’ve known. 

His sudden outburst drew Cress from her place on the floor and she looked up to the small panel illuminated by the light. A thin groove along the wall, nearly imperceptible if you weren’t looking for it specifically but big enough for a person to get out of if they managed to flip it open.

“Quick,” he said, handing her back the flashlight, “Get on my back.”

She hesitated for a few seconds before he grabbed her arm and placed the lip-light in her palm, closing her fist over it.

“Cress,” He tried not to tint his words with the bitter tang of fear that was already churning in his stomach.

“We need to go now. This whole place's about to become a sweatbox.”

Her eyes widened.

Jacin had suspected as much, the moment he’d woken from the drug-haze. Though he hadn’t been assigned to oversee the torture of criminals and political prisoners under Levana’s rule, he’d watched as those who were returned to the barracks covered in scars and grime, whispering amongst themselves about entire rooms undergoing severe renovations to accommodate the Queen’s insatiable appetite for large-scale persecution.

One of those rooms was this: made of volcanic rock and metal, the hot air released into the room would be trapped within its walls, ideal for inflicting severe dehydration, intense burns, or even death (based on their crimes), without the unnecessary need for human contact. The method was so impassive and guilt-free, Jacin would’ve commended Levana’s ingenuity, if he didn’t hate her with every fibre of his being.

The only problem was, he had no way of knowing wether their attackers intended on slowly wasting them away, or burning them to a crisp, but he didn’t want to stay and find out. 

“Alright,” Cress said finally, popping the lip-light between her teeth.

Jacin turned and crouched obediently, waiting for her to climb onto his back. 

A few awkward seconds later (she was heavier than he remembered too), Jacin climbed onto the metal bench, his bare feet bristling with discomfort - the chair was hotter than the floor - and waited for her to push open the grooved panel.

Cress’s arms barely reached the ceiling, her legs swinging from his shoulders, but she didn’t complain.

“‘ow’d you mow ao’out dis exshhit amyway?” She mumbled from above him, flashlight still in her mouth.

“Training.” He replied curtly, but continued when he felt her stiffen, “One of the guards got trapped in a sweatbox-room once and I helped get him out.”

Cress fell silent for a few minutes, and all he could hear was the sound of scraping as her hands struggled to find purchase on the metal.

“There’s some kind of weight on it,” She said out of breath, tucking the lip-light away, “I can’t push it open.”

“I think I need to stand.”

He paled. The metal under his feet had begun to sear.

“I don’t know if that’s–“

It was too late, she was already hosting herself up using both her hands and feet, as Jacin did his best to keep his balance without burning his foot off. The longest ten seconds of his life later, Cress was able to push open the creaky panel a fraction, her feet firmly plastered on his shoulders.

“See anything?” He called, wiping away the sweat that dripped into his eyes. 

“Like what?” She whispered back, trying to peek through the opening. He could think of a few things. Guns. Guards. Security cameras, depending on where they were.

“Anything.” He repeated instead.

Cress huffed and attempted to push the wall again, recoiling in shock from the heat. 

“It’s burning– Are you–“

“I’ll live,” he grit his teeth, “Any progress on that escape hatch?”

She shook her head instead of answering and proceeded to lean all her weight onto the panel instead. Jacin wondered if the hiss of flesh on metal was coming from above or below him.

The hatch creaked again, this time longer and more pronounced, and Cress let out another happy Aha! before struggling to pull herself up and out. 

He felt the weight on his shoulders disappear slowly, then all at once, and looked up to see that a portion of the wall was fully open, gaping out into the night sky. 

Jacin felt his throat tighten for the second time that day.

How long had it been since he’d seen the stars?

At one point in his life, the stars were the only things that’d kept him going. No, that wasn’t completely true: Winter had been the only thing that’d kept him going. 

He lived for her, he breathed for her. He’d died for her. Again and again. But now she was gone. Sitting somewhere far within the depths of the palace in Artemisia, smiling and laughing and loving someone else. Watching the stars with someone who wasn’t him.

“There’s a rope-ladder thing here,” Cress popped into frame, blotting out the stars with her curled blonde bangs, and Jacin caught himself just in time. The knife-twist in his heart had momentarily distracted him from his burning feet. 

“Just grab on, I’ll try to pull you up as far I can.”

A few seconds later, what looked like a climbing rope made out of interlocking metal links, dropped down from the opening. 

Jacin shook his head and grabbed onto the chain, clearing his thoughts. Enough. This wasn’t the time or place to sit and mope like a beaten dog. He’d have plenty of time for regret, once he was back in his apartment, alone, where he could spend the rest of his days blacking out.

The chain went taught as he began to climb and it was all he could do not to imagine Cress on the other side, pulling and pulling to keep him up. He grabbed ahold of the burning metal and hoisted himself onto the roof, sweat sizzling as it dripped off his arms, and collapsed on his side.

As he took gasping breaths, his burnt skin scalding under the cool night air; he felt the vibrations of the metal as Cress too flopped down beside him, the edges of her pixie cut tickling his cheek. 

For one brief beautiful moment, Jacin pretended it was Winter laying beside him instead. That it was Winter’s soft curls on his face, and her honeyed giggle that would echo into the dawn that drew close. 

Any second now he would turn to the side, and she would look up at him with her gold-flecked eyes and say I do. Of course I do, Jacin. I love you, with that sweet, lilting voice of hers and everything would be okay. She wouldn’t close the box, she wouldn’t take his hands, she wouldn’t say the dreaded words that left him so empty he’d nearly drank himself to death.

“Hey.. are.. okay..” 

Her voice trailed away as he closed his eyes, stars imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Any second now. 

#justminawrites #the lunar chronicles #tlc #tlc fandom #tlc fanfiction #tlc cinder #tlc scarlet #tlc cress #tlc jacin #jacin clay #jacinter #cress darnel #ao3 fic #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 tags #jacin and cress #jacin has PTSD #cress can throw down #they're besties and he hates it #Garisson clay #winter hayle blackburn #platonic relationships #bodyguard shennanigans #fluff #angst #action/adventure #friends to strangers #to begrudging allies to friends #tlc winter

[luvyeni]

❛SEVEN DAYS A WEEK❜ ( z. chenle )

p. zhong chenle x fem!reader w. 2.3k+

warnings? oral (m.), unprotected sex , public sex, shower sex, dry humping, dirty talk, squirting , nipple play , filth pure filth and little plot

— 𖦹 ( chenle challenges you to seven days of sex ) !

"do you think we'd be able to fuck everyday for a week?" chenle suddenly walks into your room. "excuse me?" you laughed. "i could — i could fuck you every day , every week for months if you let me." he said. "but that's not the point , do you think you'd be able to have sex for a full week , every single day?"

"where'd you get this idea from?" you asked , he sat down on the bed. "jungkooks new song." he rubbed your calf. "i was listening to it , and i got the thought." you shook your head. "of course you did." you said. "so , can we try it?"

you thought about it , ultimately nodding. "sure , let's try it." you said. "great , let's start now." he pulled you by your leg , climbing on top of you. "no , let's start tomorrow." he rolled his eyes. "don't roll your eyes , you said for a week , the week starts tomorrow."

MONDAY

chenle woke up the next morning , ready to start the day and the new challenge. he decided to start easy , something simple — waking you up by giving ypu head. this was something he did almost every morning anyways so it wouldn't be a surprise to wake up , finding your boyfriend between your legs.

"ch-chenle?" your eyes slowly opened , you could see his head poking from under the blanket. you pulled at the blanket , removing it , his lustful eyes meeting your sleepy one as he licked your folds. "fu-fuck." you moaned.

his nose brushed against your clit , sending shivers up your spine , you grabbed his hair , bucking your hips up into his face. "oh shit , chenle im not gonna last long." you mewled , feeling yourself not about to last long. "fuck , im gonna cum."

he hummed against your cunt , giving you the okay — you wrapped your legs around his head , cumming. "fuck!" you cursed , he pulled away his face covered in your juices. "jesus , you were wetter than usual this morning." he smirked. "were you thinking about the challenge." you slapped his arm.

"shut up."

TUESDAY

you had an early morning at work , you and chenle both work at sm , but you're working with their new boygroup , so you won't see him a lot today and you could tell he was extremely happy about this challenge , and you knew that after work you'd probably would be sleepy and not want to do it — so why not surprise him with morning sex.

you turned , facing your sleeping boyfriend , admiring his bareface , stubble growing from not shaving for a few days. your hand cressed his face , placing a kiss on his cheek , then on his neck — he sighed , eyes still closed. you smiled and kept going , your hand traveling down his stomach to the waistline of his pants.

"yah." his morning voice catching you off gaurd. "if you're trying to get me hard as a fucking rock , mission accomplished." his eyes opened , meeting yours. "you're supposed to be a sleep." you pouted. "i wanted to surprise you." you palmed him through his shorts. "fu-fuck , baby get on top." he groaned.

you took your shirt off , throwing it somewhere , your tits in his face as you climbed into his lap , your clothed heats pressed against each other. you pulled his cock from his pajamas , stroking his cock , hovering over his tip. "sit on it love." he grabbed your waist , sinking you down on his cock. "fu-fuck chenle."

you slowly rocked your hips back and forth , throwing your head back moaning. "fuck your pussy feels so good." he groaned , his hand coming up to squeeze your tits. "s-shit , move faster baby , we don't have a lot of time." his other hands came to your hips , moving you fast , bouncing you up and down on his cock. "fuuuck that's it , keep bouncing on my cock." he groaned. "shit m'not gonna last."

he rubbed your clit in harsh circles. "cum for princess." you kept moving , your orgasm washing over you , you hunched over , your face in his neck as he fucked up into you. "sh-shit gonna fill you up." he groaned. "ngh , fuck!" he held on to your waist as he came in your hole. "shit."

"chenle , you have to let me go , i have to get ready for work." you groaned as he held you. "no i won't see you at all today , i need to feel you somemore."

"chenle we live together."

WEDNESDAY

"chenle im home." you yelled. "in the room." you heard his voice , making your way into the room. "how was your day with your mom?" you nodded. "it was nice , im just ready to shower and go to bed." you took your clothes off.

"can i join?" he asked , standing up. "you never want to shower with me." you eyed him. "you just want to fuck." he smiled sheepishly , you rolled your eyes. "fine let's go." he got undressed , following behind you.

"fu-fuck." chenle moaning as he held you up against the wall , stroking his cock "please put it in." you lined him up with your cunt , sinking down on him , he groaned as his cock filled you up. "fuck you feel so good."

your hands tangled up in his hair , tugging at it as he fucked up into you , water cascading down his back. his plump lips coming around your nipples sucking on them , you mewled. "fu-fuck chenle."

the angle of his cock , hitting your gspot over and over. "ch-chenle , im not gonna last." you moaned , you stomach tightening. "gonna cum princess." he grunted , hitting your spot , you yelped. "yes fuck!"

he sped up his movement , furthering his orgasm. "cum , cum for me." he moaned , your mouth dropping into a 'o' shape as you came. "ngh , fuck!" his head dropped into your neck nipping at it , his balls tightening as he came.

letting you down , helping you wash up. "you're so pretty." you smiled , shoving his shoulder. "you're not getting another round , im tired." you said. "yah , i said that because i love you." you kissed his lips. "im sorry , i love you too."

"i'm willing to get past you putting the water temperature on hell , that's how much i love you."

THURSDAY

another day at work , another day of you working with sm new rookie group. chenle texting you all throughout the day , teasing you , telling you how horny he was , trying to throw you off your game. "(name)." you looked up from your make-up brushes. "it's time for your break , someone will cover your station." you nodded , sitting everything down , making your way out the room.

you were making your way to the cafeteria , when someone suddenly grabbed your arm , dragging you into a closet closing the door. "what fuck?" you finally saw the face. "chenle , what the hell , you scared me." you slapped his shoulder.

"why have you been ignoring my text?" he pushed you against the shelf. "i-im working." you whined as he left little kisses on your neck. "and all you're trying to do is rile me up." he undid his pants , letting them pool at his ankles , lifting you , wrapping your legs around his waist , his cock resting right under your ass.

"pl-please fuck me." you whimpered , he lined his cock up with your cunt , pushing himself inside. "must've worked princess." he smirked thrusting. "cause you're fucking dripping right now."

his thrust was quick and rushed , both of you not having enough time to waste. "fu-fuck , you're moaning so loud , they're gonna hear you being a little slut for me." he grunted , you clenched around you. "fuck , you're little pussy just clenched , you like the idea of people hearing me fuck you like a whore."

"oh my god -fuck- chenle im gonna cum." he knew how loud you'd get when you came , pressing his lips against yours as your eyes rolled to the back of your head , as you came , chenle following after.

he let you down , smirking when your legs wobbled. "i'm glad my pain is your happiness." he helped you clean up , kissing you once again.

"next time answer my text messages."

FRIDAY

"meet me in the bathroom." you mouthed to your boyfriend , who was sitting across the room — getting up , making your way into the restaurants bathroom , keeping the door unlocked , he entered soon after , smirking. "i thought i was sex crazy , but you seem to be getting more out of this challenge than i am."

you rolled your eyes , he locked the door. "please , you're just as sex crazy than i am , if not more." he grabbed your waist , turning you over , bending you over the sink , flipping your skirt up. "no panties?" he slapped your ass. "fuck!" you yelped.

"you made such a mess of your pussy , i bet you were dripping all over the chair." he pulled his pants down. "our friends are right next to you and you're only thinking about getting your pussy stuffed." he didn't waste anytime , slamming his cock into you. "chenle fuck!"

he held your waist , fucking into you , your ass bouncing against him. "fuck such a little slut." he grunted. "letting me fuck you like this." he grabbed your hair , pulling you flush against him. "like a whore in public."

you were moaning so loud , you were certain people would be able to hear. "you're being so loud baby , you have no shame if people hear you moaned for me like this , if our friends hear you screaming my name like this." he growled. "you gonna cum?" you nodded , mewled. "y-yes."

"fucking cum for me." his cock kissed your cervix , you bit your lip hard as you came , legs shaking. "fuck , gonna cum inside you." his cock twitching inside you as he released himself inside you.

he pulled his softening cock out , tucking himself away. "do you think they heard us?" he chuckled.

"even they did , they're gonna find out soon because my cum is dripping down your leg."

SATURDAY

both of you were lowkey tired , these past couple of days you both had been at it — and genuinely you were exhausted , but you still where horny , so you suggested clothed sex. "does dry humping still count as sex?" chenle climbed on top of you.

"do you want to cum tonight?" you said , he got the hint , slotting himself in between your legs , grinding against you , both of you moaning out. "fu-fuck this actually feels good." he sighed.

it wasn't the real thing , but it was just enough stimulations to give you pleasure , his hand coming under your tank top , toying with your nipple. "fu-fuck chenle."

he left little hickey's on your boobs , his hips faltering , the fabric from his sweats rubbing against his cock , giving him more friction , he knew he wasn't gonna last much longer. "fu-fuck im gonna cum." he grunted. "me too."

you both came , heavily breathing and sweaty. "i feel like a fucking teenager , cumming in my pants like this." he grimace. "you seemed to enjoy it a lot, the way you were moaning."

"i didn't say i hated it , i just don't necessarily like the feeling of being covered in cum."

SUNDAY

it was the last day of the challenge and chenle had definitely gotten his energy back , it was both you guys day off , and decided to have a in day. you thought he was trying to be cute , watch movies and eating snacks — no , you were very wrong , he wanted to spend the day just fucking.

it first started waking you up with oral like how he normally did , making you cum on his tongue multiple times , before finally letting you up , wiping his mouth.

then when you were cooking breakfast , he came up behind you , bending you over , fucking you against the kitchen sink , cumming inside you just before the food was done.

you both had cum so many times , you didn't understand where your boyfriend got all this stamina from , by night fall , you were extremely tired , but that didn't stop your chenle from climbing on top of you. "ch-chenle , i can't take anymore." you mewled as kissed your neck.

"one more round baby , i promise." he grinding against your heat. "you see how hard i am for you , please just one more time." you bit your lip , nodding your head. "thank you baby."

he pulled your panties to the side , pushing a finger inside. "you're so wet baby , and full of my cum." he pull his finger out , pressing it against your lips. "open." you open your mouth , his finger pushing inside your mouth. "good girl."

he freed his cock , pulling your panties to the side , slowly pushing his cock into your cunt , you hissed. "ch-chenle." he kissed your lips. "you got it baby , almost there." he groaned as he fully bottomed out. "good job." he praised.

he pulled out , thrusting back inside. "such a good girl , letting me fuck you all week." he grunted. "your poor pussy is all swollen , yet you're still taking me." he sped up his pace. "fu-fuck baby , im not gonna last long." he moaned into your ear.

you could feel your orgasm , your tightening around his cock. "ngh , fuck , fuck." he came inside you , pulling out , rubbing your abused clit. "go a head , cum for princess , make a mess." you were squirming around as he toyed with your clit. "oh , fuck , chenle im cumming!" you screamed , your juices spilling out of you. "fuck that's it , squirt for me." you legs shook as you came down from your orgasm. "jesus that was the hardest you've ever came princess."

he was so gentle afterwards , knowing how sore you were , washing your body and your hair — giving you some alone time , while he got dressed , changing the sheets , coming back to get you , wrapping you in a towel , dressing you in his shirt and some underwear , helping you back into the bed , climbing in next to you , cuddling you.

"so would you do this again." he asked , you looked up at him. "no , absolutely not , we're not having sex for an entire month." he pouted.

"i knew you'd say that."

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #nct fic #nct fluff #nct smut #nct x female reader #nct x reader #nct dream fic #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream hard hours #zhong chenle smut #zhong chenle x reader #chenle smut #chenle x reader #chenle fic #chenle scenarios

[elysianymph]

For your fic asks:

5. sounds like everything I've ever wanted

also super interested in 4.

-Cress

already answered number 5, so number 4 it is!!

regulus gets obliviated. shit happens is really the best way to describe it. no voldemort au again bc i like to make things simple for myself.

regulus starts his 6th year off like any other. he's a prefect now and he takes his duties seriously, he's studying like usual, but he can't help but feel like something is wrong. like something is... missing?

he thinks he just needs to get used to being back at hogwarts again, but he knows something is definitely wrong when one night while out on patrol, james potter grabs him and pulls him into a broom closet. the guy doesn't even let regulus throw a hex at him because his lips are immediately against regulus' and when he pulls away he's talking about how much they've missed him, how happy he is to see him, how hard he's tried to get regulus alone but could never seem to get it right.

he's telling regulus that lily is just around the corner and should be with them soon and then they can catch up on what happened over the summer and sort it all out, but regulus is still reeling from the fact that james fucking potter just kissed him??? and he's leaning in for more?? and regulus fucking lets him do it because wow his lips feel nice

and then lily evans is opening the door to the broom closet and regulus is expecting a screaming match to start any moment, but no, she approaches them and pulls regulus down so she can kiss him too and what the fuck?? when she pulls away regulus expects some big reveal, some confirmation that this is all a misunderstanding or maybe he expects to wake up in his bed. that would be nice.

but nothing happens, they don't say anything, they don't seem confused at all, if anything they seem happy and content like this is all normal and like regulus' entire world hasn't just shifted on its axis. so regulus comes to the one logical conclusion: this is all some big prank that sirius orchestrated to get back at him. why he had to get two of his friends involved with kissing regulus is beyond him, but he's not really complaining.

as you can imagine, this isn't a prank but rather lily and james trying to continue the secret relationship they started with regulus last year. problem is, regulus doesn't remember any of it. i'll just say that having your secret boyfriend and girlfriend send letters that could be easily intercepted by a nosy mother wasn't the smartest idea regulus has ever had

#i thought i had posted this last night but turns out it just went into my drafts 💀 #thank you for letting me ramble about these idiots #i had completely forgotten about this idea tbh #BUT IT SOUNDS SO FUN NOW I WANNA WRITE IT #jegulily #nymph answers

[setaripendragon]

Cress - Part 1

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 Okay, so I wrote this a while ago in a flurry of inspiration, got stuck, and... then didn't do anything with it. But I'm actually really proud of it, so I'm going to throw up what I've got, because I feel like I've fallen into the habit of not posting stuff, and that's just sad. This was inspired by a fic I read over on Ao3, The Telling of Fortunes, which... absolutely did not go in the direction I was expecting (still an excellent fic), and inspired me to take the premise and run off in the direction I thought it would go. Calliope gifts Dream another child, and this changes things.

It has been nearly seventy years since Dream was imprisoned, and over fifty since anything last changed. He has become used to the monotony of his imprisonment, even as the very nature of his existence makes ignoring the passage of time impossible. So mired in his unchanging circumstances is he that he doesn’t notice, at first, when something does change.

“Oneiros,” three voices call, in unsettling harmony, “harken to us.”

Dream raises his head sharply, and if he could breathe in this prison, his breath would have caught. The Fates stand arrayed about his prison. The Mother stands before him, between him and his guards, who are muttering amongst themselves. He cannot see the other two without turning his head, each of them equidistant from the other. In any other circumstance, being so surrounded would be unsettling, but as it is, he feels only relief at their presence.

That is not to say he expects a rescue. The Fates do not interfere so. And yet, here are ones he would not call enemy, and if Alex Burgess tries to shoot them… Well. He will not find what is left behind so easy to sweep away as he did Jessamy’s corpse.

He returns his attention to the Mother and inclines his head the barest inch. He will not give his captors any more than he must, but the Fates demand respect, even now. Even here. The Mother bows her head in return, which is a shock. Her eyes close, and for a moment, Dream could almost say she looked grieved.

“We are come on behest of another,” the Crone says, and Dream turns his head towards her to show he is listen.

“Calliope,” the Maiden adds, and this time, Dream turns more fully, to stare directly at her, eyes widening. He opens his mouth, but stops before he can shape the name. He will not give his captors that. Not for any boon or blessing in existence. The Maiden smiles in knowing gratitude, but Dream does not think he is imagining the way it doesn’t fully reach her eyes.

“Why?” he asks. Mouths, for there is no air inside his glass prison. At least, none that he can make use of, bound in his vessel as he is. His guards have moved from their post, are circling the moat that keeps mortal magics from interfering with the arcane sigils, excited by his movements as they cannot see the cause.

“A gift,” the Crone tells him.

“A burden,” the Maiden counters.

“A duty,” the Mother corrects them both. And that is the word he is more familiar with, one he feels down to his bones and beyond, into the dreamstuff that he makes and is made of, so it is to her he turns for an answer. And it is from her that he receives one.

The Mother flips back her shawl, and reveals that the Fates did not come alone. In her arms there is a babe, swaddled in cream silk, and as it is exposed to the air without the shelter of the Mother’s mantle, it yawns and begins to squirm.

Dream’s mouth drops open. Not to form words, for he has none. He does not understand. This can only be Calliope’s child, and yet, the Maiden called it a gift. Calliope has gifted him a child before, but has since sworn never again, so this cannot be as it appears to be. He tears his eyes away from the infant to meet the Mother’s gaze. “Why?” he asks again.

“Because she bid it,” the Mother tells him, simple and unconditional.

“Calliope cannot care for the babe as she is now,” the Crone states, unsympathetic.

“We cannot change her fate, but the child’s is within our power to alter,” the Maiden adds with just a hint of playful mischief.

As if Dream isn’t deeply alarmed by the notion of a Calliope subject to a fate that even the triple goddess will not interfere with. “What fate?” he asks. Mouths. The Maiden smiles at him, knowing and amused.

“She called for you, when we bid her name it,” she tells him, like she is imparting a scandalous secret.

“We bid her choose another,” the Crone snaps, fierce and angry, but when Dream turns to stare at her, he sees the pain beneath. “She refused.”

“There was no other she would trust,” the Mother mourns.

“We warned her; the fate that awaited in your arms would not be kind,” the Crone adds bitterly, eyes roving pointedly over the cage in which Dream is trapped. His eyes are drawn to the babe again, now mewling for attention and being fussed over by the Mother. Truly, if the child was given into his keeping at this moment, it would surely perish. That, indeed, would be the kinder fate. For if it is not mortal enough to suffocate, it will live as he does; without. Only it will not be aware enough to know that it can, and so it will struggle, and struggle endlessly, for a breath that will not come.

“She said that even the fate that awaits the child of Calliope and Oneiros would be a better one than awaited the child of Calliope and a mortal,” the Maiden says, wistful with sorrow. The words stab clear through Dream’s heart, and he raises a hand to his chest to press against the ache. There’s a clamouring somewhere beyond the sphere, beyond the Fate’s presence, but Dream ignores it, closing his eyes against it.

“She knew not of what she spoke,” the Crone complains.

“She knew enough, sister-self” the Mother chides. Dream feels a chill. What could possibly hold such power over Calliope to threaten her child that she believes giving it unto Dream would be the better fate? “Well, o Lord of Dreams?” the Mother prompts, and Dream opens his eyes to meet her gaze as she lifts it from the babe in her arms to raise her eyebrows at him. “Will you take her?”

Dream thinks furiously, frantically. He cannot say yes, and condemn an innocent child – Calliope’s child – to this cage with him, and yet, he cannot say no, and return her to a fate that even the Mother deems may be worse.

“We need an answer, o Lord of Dreams,” the Maiden demands. Dream drops his eyes, unable to settle his thoughts, but knowing he cannot take either of the paths laid before him.

“O Lord of Dreams,” the Crone echoes mockingly, sourly. “The choice is yours.”

Dream’s eyes snap up. “Mine,” he echoes silently, deliberately, holding the Crone’s gaze. Just the hint of a smile begins to lift one corner of his mouth.

Nose almost pressed to the glass, Alex Burgess rears backwards. “What?” he demands. “What was that? Did you hear-?” he asks of his lover. Paul shakes his head, eyes beginning to widen, a look of horror beginning to dawn.

“Alex… what if he can’t speak?” he asks slowly, and then reaches out to his lover with sharp, jerky movements, shaking the other man. “Dear God, there’s no air in there. We have to- we have to do something-” Alex shakes his head, and the two continue to babble desperately at each other.

Dream ignores it all.

“You would take her, then?” the Maiden asks, intensely.

Dream tips his head, not a yes, but not a no. “My choice,” he mouths.

There is a long silence. At least, silence among the Fates and Dream, for beyond them there is a cacophony of mortal chaos, but it does not touch them. “Yes,” the Crone says finally, intense and waiting.

“I accept this burden,” Dream mouths. The Mother closes her eyes on a shaky sigh, the Maiden makes a small sound that could be sorrow or relief, and the Crone snarls wordlessly. The Mother begins to step forwards, and Dream holds up a hand to stop her. She halts. So do the mortals. “I did not say I would take it,” he reminds her. Her eyes widen.

“What is he saying?!” Alex Burgess demands in a panic. “What is he looking at?!”

“Calliope already refused all others,” the Maiden says, stepping around the cage to come to her sister-self’s side. “Apollo, Zeus, all the gods, all the pantheons.”

“Not a god,” Morpheus agrees. The child is part mortal, after all, if not quite half any more; not with Dream’s claim upon her.

“One of the Endless, then?” the Crone challenges, also closing the distance so that the three are arrayed as one. “I did not think you trusted your children unto Death’s embrace.”

Dream flinches. But then, cruelty is the province of the Crone, so he takes the blow with as much grace as he can muster in his present situation, and lets the barb slide. “No,” he agrees. Not a one of his siblings is fit to raise a child, not even Death, though if he had to pick one of them, she would be his first choice.

“Then to one of your subjects?” the Maiden wonders.

“A child cannot live on dreams alone, sister-self,” the Crone snaps.

“No,” Dream agrees.

“Then where?” the Mother asks patiently.

“Where else is left?” Dream challenges.

There is another moment of silence. Not of incomprehension, but of disbelief. True, if this were even a single century ago, Dream would not have indulged even the fantasy of such an idea for more than the heartbeat it would take to dismiss it. But he has no good choices left, and this, at least, will spare the child the burden of his failure.

Hopefully.

“A mortal?” the Crone demands, incredulous.

“What do you even know of the mortal realm?” the Maiden asks, half-laughing.

“Will you bid us leave her with mortal authorities? Abandon her on the steps of a temple? Return her to her blood?” the Mother challenges him right back, gentle but cutting.

“No,” Dream denies. “There is but one mortal I know beyond the Dreaming.” He will not say the name, not while his captors watch, desperately trying to read his lips, to get his attention, to demand his subservience. They will not have any of it; not one thing of his will they pry from him.

“Robert Gadling,” the Maiden concludes, and Dream inclines his head.

“You think he will help you? After how you treated him at your last meeting?” the Crone prods, scornful.

There is truth to her words. Dream knows it. He was cruel without cause, and Hob would have every right to refuse to aid him now. But for all his flaws, Hob is not a cruel man, and Dream does not think he would leave a child to suffer for Dream’s mistakes. Besides, it is the only avenue he can see that has even the slightest chance of ending without bringing ruin to an innocent life.

“I can but hope.”

#The Sandman #Dream of the Endless #kid fic #The Fates #can you see my hob = hope agenda? #Prince of Stories here learning to find the Third Option #like a true protagonist #-wipes tear- I'm so proud #This is meant to eventually be Hob/Dream/Calliope #I didn't get quite that far #but fair warning #I can't get into a new fandom without picking an OT3 #or making a next gen character it seems

[numberonecameraman]

📢 unova gym leaders

Unlike the Champions, I haven’t spent an extended amount of time with the Gym Leaders. But, I have fought most of them, so hopefully this will do.

Chili, Cilan, and Cress are a weird bunch. They do this thing where they speak at the same time and finish each others’ sentences. They think it’s funny, but I think it’s creepy. Their teams also suck. No wonder they got replaced.

I helped with a special about Cheren and his two friends after the first Team Plasma incident. He’s a quiet kid and really wanted to get the interview over with. His responses were all a couple sentences except the ones about Hilbert. I saw him at the PWT a few years later and he appears to be doing well. If his team there was anything to go by, it must suck to fight the Aspertia Gym.

Lenora’s genuinely intimidating. She’s a sweet person overall but never get on her bad side. Her team can mop the floor with you and her husband can throw a decent punch. Beyond that, she’s opened a restaurant in Nacrene after retiring. The food is delectable. Check it out if you can.

Burgh is kinda like Wallace but replace drama with art. Everything’s about paintings to him. He makes great art, but his real talent lies in interior design. His Gym should be all the evidence of that you need. I struggled battling him but that’s mostly because my team sucks against Bug types.

I’ve had to record some Elesa’s modeling videos. She’s probably the most sensible of the stuck up rich celebrities. She treats her crew like people and usually doesn’t give outrageous demands. Usually. That Emolga strategy she uses in battle makes me seriously question my opinion on her thought. No kind person could do that to someone willingly.

Clays also a little weird. He makes a lot of weird jokes and his accent makes it impossible to understand the punchlines half the time. I appreciate what he did for the Driftveil community and actually investing money in the town instead of hoarding it like some other CEOs I know. His battle was an interesting one. I think he threw the fight. He primarily lost to a Maractus. I love him, but he’s not the strongest.

Skyla’s really annoying. Though part of that might be because I had to wait three days to battle her since she was doing some deliveries in another Region. She loves her job and I’m glad she does, but she made being a pilot her entire personality and it bothers me. Kinda like Lance now that I think about it. The difference between them is that she can actually get serious if the chips are down.

Brycen is the Gym Leader I know best since I worked on the modern Brycen-Man series. He takes acting deadly seriously. He’ll stop entire scenes if something’s slightly off. It’s annoying in real time, but I appreciate the dedication. I battled him at his prime so the fight was a really tough one. He spent half the battle in exploiting my weaknesses then teaching me how to avoid them while fighting him. It was an awesome fight.

I’ve only met Drayden once. He’s terrifying. He’s almost 7 feet tall and the rumors are true. He wrestles with fully grown Dragon Pokémon and I’ve never seen him lose. I’m not ashamed to say I lost to him twice before I beat him. Despite that, Drayden is awesome. He let me crash at his place while I was in Opelucid and really cares about the people. He and Alder are good friends, so that’s a barrier to entry, but I try to look past that.

I already talked about Iris in the Champions post.

#shouting into the void #rant post #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #rotumblr #pkmn rp #pokemon rp #pokeblog roleplay #poketumblr #pkmn irl

[maytheoddshq]

Cress Meadowforge (she/her). Trainer. District One. Twenty-five. Anya Taylor-Joy. UPDATED BIO.

TWs: sexual assault, drugs/addiction, forced medical procedures, burn mentions, violence

Cress is a Queen of the Night. More aptly, a night-blooming cereus: a cacti flower that only blooms once a year, for a single night. For most of the year, she remains tightly coiled, spikes bristled for any who might venture too close. No amount of tending to can coax her from her shell, from the armor she has built to protect herself from the world outside. And then, in the most unlikely moment, when all the world lets down its guard, she blossoms.

A rare few will see this - see her - but that is all it takes.

Born to wealthy jewelers Fleur and Myron Meadowforge in the heart of District One, Cressida understood that certain heirlooms held invaluable merit, regardless of their beauty. It was the artistry and craftsmanship that mattered. She viewed the Games in much the same way: a wretched masterpiece without compare. She watched each one in horrid appreciation, the way someone admires the truly macabre, knowing that one day, she would have the honor of bearing this beautiful burden too.

  And when she did, she realized there was nothing beautiful about it. 

  Cressida volunteered for the 120th Hunger Games, her eyes bright and hungry. She had trained for this for years beside the other Careers, all sharpening their teeth against the others, smiling cruelly the way an animal warned its prey the end was near. Her skills were her charm, her air of innocence, and her beauty – at least, that’s what her mentors instructed her to portray. They painted her as something desirable and riveting to sponsors and a sincere ally and advocate to the other tributes, and it was a spotless, hollow facade. 

  They’d called it Clima Cladis – the climate of disaster – and Cressida remembered thinking that she wouldn’t have to kill anyone, that doing so would actually be a mercy compared to what the environment was doing to them. It’s the seasons, the commenters had gasped, and they had been close. It had been the seasons, but not like she’d ever known: summer so hot it seared and melted flesh from the bone; winter so cold that, had they survived, it would have been without noses, or fingers, or toes; and spring, with its torrential downpour that flooded the arena and mutts that emerged from hibernation ravenous and cruel. Only the fall had been a reprieve, and they craved it each rapid cycle – emerging from their hiding places in search of supplies, and sustenance, and sponsorships.

  She won by killing the entirety of the Career pack first, framing another district for the slaughter before positioning herself as a helpless fawn in need of companionship – a sheep who had been forced along with the wolves. One by one, Cressida won the others’ favor – their trust and affection – until they lost their lives to her hand in turn. The pair from Eight. They took her poison willingly, thinking it was medicine. The boy from Six, who held her down in the burning sun. She broke his legs, let him fry in the summer heat, listened to his screams from the mouth of a cave. In the end, Cressida didn’t even have to kill the last tribute: Lila. She – under the impression that they were in love – killed herself to let Cressida win, throwing herself from the top of the mountain that they had been forced up in the finale. She secured her place in arena history as having one of the highest kill counts out of any victors. Cressida’s Games were heralded not as one of startling might or breath-taking violence, but of operatic melodrama – of unparalleled manipulation and cunning. 

  Cressida had dazzled Panem in the arena, but she found the price of victorhood immeasurably steep. The Head Gamemaker, Eugene Pharmakos, found her astonishing, a cunning creature of unparalleled beauty. She was invited to meet him the night before her victory tour – an encounter that irreparably altered her life. Despite the efforts of her mentors, Domitia and Dahlia, Cressida was commodified for Capitolite consumption. Drugged with morphling and sleeping syrup, she spent her victory tour in a stupor, given uppers to keep her cognizant enough to perform at each designated stop. Exploited for the amusement and entertainment of the elite, Cressida realized that she was now District One’s finest luxury export. She was eighteen.

  The life of a victor further dehumanized her, stripping her of agency she had fought – and won – to reclaim. Had she not done as they asked? Was she not entitled now to a life of spoils – of peace, at least? Scarred on nearly a fourth of her body, Cressida begged the Capitol to heal her, to graft her skin and remove the burn marks. They agreed, put her under, sent her into surgery. But the Capitol saw the scars as salacious, desirable in their morbidity – the price of victorhood. One Cressida couldn’t afford to override. Instead, she was given cosmetic surgery. Her buccal fat removed, her facial symmetry increased, her lips injected with fillers, her body altered. When she awoke, Cressida wept for a week. 

  Still, it was easy to feign contentedness under such a continued stupor, still weaning her way off of the sleeping syrup and morphling. She knew already how to behave, so much so that she began to exist as though automated: to angle the right way, to recite her words carefully, to enrapture and entice. Nothing about Cressida felt real anymore, and while she’d never been angrier or more miserable, she’d also never been more popular.

  When given the chance, Cressida returned to the Tower as quickly as possible, eager for a task that allowed her to channel her rage. She took up training, committed to giving tributes a chance beyond their perceived or initial physical capabilities. She held no allegiance to a particular district; her politics defied regional boundary-lines, and her willingness to sidestep ethical boundaries made her an ideal saboteur with intimate access to tributes, mentors, and sponsors alike. Another Gamemaker, Lex Sterling, saw promise in this, and Cressida once again had a purpose.

  Shedding her expensive skin, she left her old self behind – that angry girl from One, so vulnerable – and crafted Cress instead. Cress was composed. Cress was unshakeable. Cress did whatever she wanted. Cress existed only to indulge: to have, and to command, and to destroy. She began spying for Lex, and in turn, he offered his protection and his assistance in her pursuit of revenge against all those that had harmed her, including Head Gamemaker Pharmakos. Cress made things happen, or made things go away – it didn’t matter. It was all the same. She was biding her time. Building connections. Indebting. For years, it carried on this way, and Cress distanced herself from the before. Now and then were lifetimes away. 

  At times, she became so far removed from the past that Cress considered herself less a victor of One and more a victor of District Zero, a secret society and social club run in the catacombs beneath the Capitol, fueled by the same hyper-advanced technology and medicine that was used in the arenas. Here, she could operate within a familiar landscape, only now, with greater agency. Here, she could chase a high on her own accord, partial to the shimmering purple of ether. Here, she could explore the macabre in peace. Cress was a starlet of the upper-class elite, an heiress to the diamond mines owned by her family, and now the patron saint of the Capitol's underground social scene. At last, she had everything she ever wanted. 

  Until Cress met Slate Skylar during the 132nd Games and realized that – perhaps – there was more in the world than she ever bargained for. The pair began as sparring partners, training together in the Tower each night during the Games cycle. However, one evening, after Slate failed to show, Cress found him on the Twelfth Floor, surrounded by anti-Capitol propaganda: his rebel zine, TH3 T0MMYKN0CK3R. But Cress, despite her pro-Games perspective and her societal standing, was intrigued, drawn to the truth of Panem, desperate to understand the world beyond what they were shown on TV screens. With a shifting perspective, Cress found herself at Slate’s side: training, bantering, working on the zine. Perhaps it was inevitable. Only a boy raised in ashes could love something burnt. But Cress and Slate – two feral creatures, afraid of being trapped, suspicious of the world – found each other, and for once, the world did not hurt. 

  It was too good to be true. Too good to last. And a year later, during the off-cycle following the 133rd Victor’s Ball, Cress received a tip from Lex: Peacekeepers were coming to raid the apartment she and Slate shared. They were coming to arrest him. Cress and Slate attempted to burn the evidence, turning the complex into an inferno. But as Cress slipped through the window onto the fire escape, Slate locked it behind her. She watched as he turned back, continuing to shovel items into the blaze. She watched as the Peacekeepers arrested him, dragging him away. Cress was transported to a safe house on the outskirts of the city, where she was treated for smoke inhalation and her burn wounds while she and Lex worked to clear her name. 

  It was also where she took a test, alone, sitting on the floor of the bathroom. One that came back positive. Cress was pregnant. Her whole world had changed overnight.

  Eventually, when Slate resurfaced in a Capitol prison, she was able to leverage her connections to curate a brief goodbye. During the visit, grasping each other between metal bars, Cress broke the news. He told her to choose for herself, to keep it or not. Slate was to be executed. It was no longer his to help decide. He would never know the child, never be more than a story Cress and Hestia told. The Peacekeeper said time was up. Cress wanted to die.

  She went to Twelve, where she stayed with Hestia Ember. Under her protection and guidance, Cress learned how to care for the child she would bring into this world alone. They waited for months for word on Slate’s execution, his fate left undecided, dragging on – painfully – further and further. When it was time for Reaping Day, Cress returned home to One. She was still a victor, still eligible. It was her duty to stand on stage and look strong, proud. But as she walked to the Reaping stage, Cress’ phone buzzed with a news notification: Slate, the infamous rebel also known as Meta Morphic, had been Reaped as a tribute from Twelve. She stumbled out onto the stage, stunned, only to hear a familiar voice ring out. Her youngest sister, Callisto, with her hand held high in the crowd. I volunteer. Once again, in an instant, Cress’ world came crashing down.

Strengths: charming, eloquent, strategic, clever, warm

Weaknesses: manipulative, vengeful, materialistic, hedonistic

PENNED BY: LENA

#thg rpg #thg rp #hunger games rpg #hunger games rp #oc rpg #accepted #cress

[antihibikase2]

BW : II - The High Priestess (Upright)

“You met a guy like that?” 

“Yeah..” 

Though the battle went in Hilbert’s favor, he didn’t want to entertain the possibility of having lost against such a person.

“Ugh, if daddy was here, he wouldn’t let us hear the end of it!” Bianca frowns, brushing her mother’s gift- a Lillipup, on her lap. “I know we’re encouraged to ask for help when we need it, but come on, Hilbert! If it feels wrong in your gut, run away!”

And the fact that that strange man released his Pokemon right after the battle too, as if he wasn’t willing to form bonds with them..

At least Purrloin seemed happy.

“But-!” He doesn’t get the chance to talk as she throws a potion at him. “Well, he had some things to say, you know? And I don’t mind listening at all, but..”

He looks down at the potion that Bianca threw at him, his own reflection bouncing off the surface of the bottle.

“Cheren was getting uncomfortable, so I ended up challenging him to a battle. Kinda. I didn’t say anything, but-”

“Oh, Hilloo, you’re a horrible liar. It’s all in your eyes. And you have no patience at all when it comes to either Cheren or me,” Though her tone is scolding, there was a bit of amusement. “That’s why daddy depends on you, you know? Even if he won’t admit it, he’s glad you’re here.”

 Hilbert could only laugh sheepishly.

Bianca had noticed the air of the group had slightly changed when she left the Pokemon Center at Accumula.

Though they parted ways not too soon after, she couldn’t help but sense how quieter Cheren had become, and how Hilbert seemed almost hesitant to let him or Bianca out of his sight.

To think they would meet such a strange person early on- Bianca hoped it wouldn’t persist.

They did leave on a journey to become independent after all; the last thing any of them wanted deep down was to run back home and prove her father right.

“As long as we all promise to meet up like this every now and again, that’ll put my daddy’s worries at ease.”

“Then he’ll stop hounding you?”

“Ugh, I wish.”

As she talks, one of the waiters- the one with wavy blue hair, brings both her and Hilbert a cup of tea and a complimentary bag of cookies. 

“Oh, thank you so much!”

“It is our pleasure,” A hand is placed on his chest with a gentle bow. “You’re a challenger too, aren’t you? Then please, enjoy Striaton’s finest delicacies while we prepare the battlefield. Your friend here,” His eyes look up at Hilbert, almost as if annoyed. “Is quite a brute, and made quite a mess in our stage.”

Hilbert grins. “They’re tough, Bianca! The triplet you’ll go against is the one who has a type advantage over your starter-”

“And there you go yapping your mouth,” Cress rolls his eyes. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but here you go spoiling it.”

“Oops!”

“Aw, Hilloo! You can’t spoil a good surprise like that!”

“With that in mind, however, I hope you’ll be a much more graceful challenger,” Cress huffs. “In the meantime, I suggest training at the Dreamyard. This may take awhile."

He leaves the pair as he joins his twin brothers; with the excited way the redhead was mopping the floors, Bianca could only guess that he was the one next in line to face her.

“The Dreamyard, huh? I didn’t get a chance to explore it much before I battled them..” Hilbert mutters. “Hey, why don’t we go there together? I can help you train!”

Lillipup yaps excitedly at the thought.

“That was the place that was always off limits to non-trainers, right?"

“Yup! Only Professor Juniper got to go in when she brought us along. I can help you out so you don't make a big mess!"

"Hey, you're just as careless as I am, Hilloo!"

"Yeah, but you made a mess in my room!"

"Cheri too!"

"To be fair, we fought before Cheri and I did, so-"

“Well, it was one of us, and it wasn’t me!”

"Hey!" One of the triplets barks at them, broom clutched in hand. His Pansear mimicked his expression. "If you two have the energy to fight here, then get your asses to the Dreamyard and train!"

"Brother!"

Hilbert and Bianca watch as another one- the one with green hair, tries to wrangle his twin.

Cress steps out of the cleaning closet and begins to throw insults at his brother's way. Chili marches up to the eldest and says something, which leads to Cress dragging him at the very back for a good scolding.

The middle child, Cilan, could only watch helplessly as his brothers bickered.

When his eyes meet Bianca's and Hilbert's, he looks like he's on the verge of crumbling into a thousand pieces.

"Um, this is embarrassing, but please do visit the Dreamyard! Trainers often say we catch them off guard, and, um-"

"Now what did we say about speaking rudely to customers?"

"HAH! As if you don't do the same thing! You're just pretentious about it!"

"...leave my brothers to me, or I fear we will never get things done.."

As the brothers continued to bicker, Bianca stuffs the bag of cookies into her bag as Hilbert downs the rest of his tea. They awkwardly make it out of the restaurant, passing by several other patrons as they do so.

As the duo leaves the restaurant and into the dreamyard, a lab coat flutters in the wind, accompanied by the sickly sweet smell of dream mist.

“Oh? Those kids.. aren’t they..?”

#bw/bw2 rewrite #bw arc

[acquired-stardust]

Game Spotlight #4: Bulk Slash (1997)

Acquired Stardust’s first spotlight on a Sega Saturn game! Come join Ash as she takes a look at a game that never made it outside of Japan with 1997′s Bulk Slash!

The Sega Saturn has long been a fascinating subject to me, its rise and fall perhaps the culmination of a whirlwind of internal company politics and a rapidly changing landscape of both hardware and software. The attitude among gamers well into the 6th generation of consoles was as though its failure was a foregone conclusion not through any nuanced variety of factors, but because “duh, the Saturn sucked!”, the sort of take that time and hindsight allows to fester into a comfortable, easily repeatable opinion that you’ve heard enough people say that you too assume must be true.

But I’m happy to report that in my time experiencing a variety of titles on the Saturn in an attempt to satiate my longstanding curiosity, the Saturn doesn’t suck! In fact, the Saturn has been something that has consistently delivered games that surpassed my expectations. Daytona USA brought home a legendary racing title with a soundtrack as infamous as it is glorious (I’m personally of the opinion that Takenobu Mitsuyoshi is a genius and his involvement in anything always makes me happy), Capcom’s legendary run of fighting games was captured almost in its entirety on the Saturn, having ports of Street Fighter 2, the entire run of the Street Fighter Alpha series as well as Darkstalkers and what was at that time the entire selection of crossover games with Marvel, all of which looked significantly better than their Playstation port counterparts. SNK brought its own excellent array of arcade fighting game ports to home consoles in multiple King of Fighters releases alongside The Last Blade.

All of this is to say that the Saturn had something of a reputation as a system dominated by high quality arcade ports, which at the time was a significant thing to be able to say about a home console.  It’s a talking point that has settled into that comfortable space of easily repeatable factoid that may or may not be true, but in this case it is. The Sega Saturn was indeed home to high quality arcade ports, but something that’s lost in that conversation is just how many interesting, experimental and high quality titles don’t fit the mold of ‘taking something you played in the arcade and bringing it home’ - the Saturn-exclusive games. One such example is 1997′s Bulk Slash, developed by a little-known company called CAProductions in partnership with  since-defunct publisher Hudson. It was only the developer’s fourth game, and their first try at the emerging world of 3D games, a world in which conventional wisdom is that the Saturn struggled with.

Bulk Slash is something of a mix of Macross and Zeta Gundam, stylistically. An action game with a mech that transforms into a jet, featuring a story about military factions causing trouble of the genocidal variety to avenge alleged oppression. Switching freely between mech and jet forms, the main character Cress pilots his conspicuously Gundam-like mech in a campaign to defeat the Gardona military which has managed to wrap up his childhood friend Riizen into its ranks through political events prior to the start of the game. Playing out across seven stages each with different goals and a boss fight to close out the mission, the player can collect various score-boosting items as well as health recovery items and weapon upgrades not unlike Contra or Metal Slug. Bulk Slash controls remarkably well for a game featuring both a humanoid combatant in its mech running around shooting and throwing grenades as well as a jet, all while not utilizing a secondary right thumbstick for camera controls, which are instead relegated to shoulder buttons on the controller. The action is fairly fast paced with an impressive frame rate, only slowing down in instances of large chained explosions going off in certain circumstances. Just as well, the graphics and art style are quite good (almost reminiscent of the rise of the recent ‘2DHD’ art style), and the soundtrack very fitting for its time though not especially memorable.

Layered into the fairly standard (albeit impressive) action gameplay is the ‘M.I.S.S’ mechanic (which stands for ‘Manageable Intelligent Support System’), a collection of 7 NPCs which must be located in each of Bulk Slash’s 7 stages serving as navigators for Cress, giving direction on the location of targets and bosses. Each of these NPCs are girls of various design, occupation and personality, including one who throws lots of English phrases into her otherwise Japanese speech which is very entertaining. Bulk Slash’s M.I.S.S system is more than meets the eye however, adding light dating sim mechanics into the game, with all 7 girls having their own endings and CG art unlocked depending on the player’s score upon defeat of the game’s final boss. It’s a small thing but really goes a long way in providing an experience that’s just varied and customizable enough. Having only 7 missions, the game is not especially long and only saves after successful runs through it after defeating the final boss, which itself has a boss gauntlet before it that can be a little rough while you’re still getting used to the game but if you put time into the game you’ll soon be able to defeat them without taking too much (or even any) damage, assisted by the fact that each of them seems to have timings for which you can score a critical hit, either dealing heavy damage or sometimes even outright destroying them in one blow.

Bulk Slash, as previously mentioned, was never released outside of Japan but the game is relatively simple to navigate and understand, being communicated very well visually. There was also a recent English translation patch which is a little hit or miss translation and localization-wise, but otherwise should assist people who don’t speak Japanese in understanding the story and character interactions, which is surprisingly good (and surprisingly dark at times) and a clear love letter to Universal Century Gundam.

Bulk Slash was the second Saturn game I ever played (after the all-time classic Daytona USA, for those wondering), and I’m glad it was such an early stop in the tour of the Saturn library because it shows off a lot of the strengths of the platform as well as bucking some of the usual talking points about the system, such as not doing 3D very well. It also layers in some of Japan’s big gaming trends at the time, such as dating sim elements most that most prominently and recently (at the time anyway) helped make Sakura Taisen a big hit on the platform just a year earlier. It’s a shame Bulk Slash never saw release outside of Japan as it would probably have done fairly well and be fondly remembered, and it’s definitely the sort of game that feels as though it would be pretty popular were it to have been an indie game releasing today.

A gem hidden among the stones, Bulk Slash is undoubtedly stardust.

--Ash

#Gaming #Video Games #Retro Gaming #Retro Games #Mech #Mecha #Sega #Saturn #Sega Saturn #Bulk Slash #Game Recommendations #Acquired Stardust #Ash #Gundam #CAProductions #Hudson #Hudson soft #Game Spotlights

[ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

Unexpected Turns

“Fuck me running.”

“That seems like it would be making the task unnecessarily difficult, sir.”

Ricard paused, his hand halfway through running through his hair in frustration. He let the hand fall back to his side as he glanced up from the papers scattered across his coffee table to the figure in his doorway with narrowed eyes.

“You know - typically I pay you to deliver information, not for witty commentary. So I do hope you have more of the former and not more of the latter because so far…the former has been lacking.”

“Interviews of all those providing transportation in and out of Ishgard around the time you requested, sir. The routes they took and the number of individuals meeting the description you provided.”

“Recent dye jobs and hastily changed appearances?”

“There were a handful - noted and followed up on appropriately."

"The trails after that?"

"Followed and noted - captains interviewed, transports interviewed, noted that this was, as indicated - several years ago. They've had many passengers since then, may matching the description given, many such individuals in a hurry throwing gil around in an attempt to not be noticed."

"Anything more recent and maybe worth my time to provide today?

"Only that I will provide updates as information comes in. If I may make an observation.”

Ricard waved a hand as he moved over to take the offered file with an annoyed sigh. “Nothing I’ve ever said has stopped you before - what would stop you now.”

“You don’t seem terribly pleased with the progress being made on this.”

“Because I’m not. Rich, upper-middle-class women don’t just up and disappear and suddenly know how to blend in and cover their tracks, as clearly evidenced by all these wonderful folks throwing trying not to be noticed by tossing gil at crowds and thereby drawing attention to themselves. Look, this woman has been gone for years. There’s a trail. There’s always a trail. Especially when someone leaves out of fucking Ishgard. Which means either I’m missing something, which doesn’t sit terribly well with me, or someone is doing a damn good job of covering things up, which also doesn’t sit terribly well with me. Either way the answers I want are eluding me and that’s annoying as fu…”

He paused, his scowl deepening as he re-read the name listed in the file he was holding.

“Are you certain this information is accurate and up to date?”

“I can triple check with the contacts, but they assured me that -”

Ricard waved a hand muttering under his breath, “Of all the fucking ships in the world..of course it’d be that one. She was already going to kill me. Now there’s not even going to be a body left to bury…”  He tossed the file on top of the others on the coffee table before trotting up to his room. It only took him a few minutes to throw a few items into a bag before returning back down the stairs, where he promptly grabbed the files off the table and slipped them into the bag as well, along with a few other essentials before closing it up. 

“Well, hasn’t this been…informative. I’ll get your payment to you before the end of the day.”

“Should…I instruct the network to continue looking for the information on this individual?”

“No, put a hold on it for now. I’ll send word if things don’t pan out.”

“And should I inform lady Vaha-”

“No….ahem…no. Not yet. I’ll get to that too.”

“Very well, safe travels sir.”

Ricard sighed, exiting a few short moments after his contact.  He had a ways to go and not long to get there - and maybe he was wrong and the ship name wasn’t the one he was thinking of because if he wasn’t wrong - well then fucking him running was going to be the least of his concerns.

Mentions - @umbral-flare-ffxiv & @valeria-cress

#the perceptive smartass #ffxiv edition

[justminawrites]

Satellites

AO3

1 | 2 | TBC

Summary: Six years after the Lunar Revolution, everything has changed for Crescent Moon Darnel. Now a top notch Lunar government official, Cress spends her time sifting through Lunar databases identifying the millions of people who went missing during Levana's reign, when she comes across a glitch that holds the fate of the entire country in its code. With the help of former lunar guard (and current recluse) Jacin Clay, Cress races against time to uncover a dangerous plot that could change the increasingly volatile tensions between Earth and Luna forever.

“UNFORTUNATELY THIS UNIT IS UNABLE TO PERMIT VISITORS AT THE MOMENT—“

Cress pressed the buzzer by the door for the fifteenth time and resisted the urge to swear into it.

Anyone who didn’t know better would assume that the occupants of the unit were merely out for the night, but she couldn’t be fooled that easily. She’d tracked down the IP address of his port-screen which had led her to this motel at the outskirts of the capital city, Artemisia, and remained unchanged for a week. 

He hadn’t left his unit in a week.

“UNIT NUMBER TWO-FOUR-TWO—” The automated voice was cold and unfeeling, as was the sudden breeze that swooped in out of nowhere and stung the back of her neck.

“Jacin— let me in!” She nearly squeaked into the built-in microphone by the buzzer, as another gust of wind ran right through her flimsy apparel. Today was not a good day for yoga pants.

“—STATE YOUR NAME AND PURPOSE OF VISIT TO CONTINUE.”

“Crescent Moon Darnel” she repeated, “Here on official Government business”

“UNFORTUNATELY THIS UNIT IS UNABLE TO PERMIT VISITORS AT THE MOMENT. PLEASE LEAVE YOUR LUNAR ID NUMBER TO BE NOTIFIED OF THE  EARLIEST AVAILABLE APPOINTMENT DATE TO SCHEDULE YOUR VISIT.“

“Jacin Clay, I swear to All the Stars I will break this—”

“It’s hard to take you seriously when you say things like Government business” 

Cress blinked and stepped back as the door beeped and slid outward to reveal a fraction of a scruffy blonde beard and one blue-gray eye that somehow managed to look both disapproving and exasperated at the same time. 

“What do you want, Cress?” 

She crossed her arms.

“A ‘Hello Cress, haven’t seen you in a while. Sorry for leaving you outside to freeze off your ass’ would be nice to hear.” 

“Hello Cress,” Jacin said through gritted teeth, “What do you want?” 

“Did you get my email about the job-“

“Yes, and I clearly stated in that email, that I don’t want it.”

“But the-“

“No.”

“But we’ll be-“

“No.”

“Just give me five-“

“No.”

Cress pinched the bridge of her nose and released a breath to keep from losing her temper. If she’d known Jacin would be this uncooperative she probably would’ve been better off risking her luck alone. Or with the state approved guard she’d been so quick to refuse, Liam something…  Caine? Kinney? 

“If that’s all you wanted, then you should leave.”

Cress scrambled for a solution as the door began to slide shut once more.

“It’s about Princess Winter,” she blurted, and the beeping stopped. A long silence seemed to stretch between them and she had the strange urge to hold her breath. 

Everyone knew that the lunar princess and her bodyguard had broken up almost half a year ago; it was plastered across all the tabloids and net-zines, creating quite the scandal. Nobody knew why, of course, but Jacin quit working at the palace soon after. Cress had heard the news from one of the team members in her department and commed Jacin immediately. He never opened it.

“You said it wasn’t about Winter” Jacin said finally. She could hear the frown in his voice and realised she’d written herself into a corner; automatically reaching out to tug on a lock of her hair for comfort. 

The job had nothing to do with Princess Winter really, but she’d finally gotten the council to approve her solo mission under the condition that she be accompanied by a trained agent, i.e., former lunar guard Jacin Clay, who’d been missing for the past six months. So she’d chased him down with a single lead, stood outside his unit all evening and probably acquired some kind of new moon-frostbite in doing so and wasn’t about to give up without him at least hearing her out.

“Right,” she began as the door slid open a little farther, now revealing a faded white t shirt, “Yes, right, I did say that it wasn’t about Princess Winter in the email.. because I didn’t want.. it to.. um, get compromised?”

Not her best execution but it seemed to do the trick. The door slid open completely and Cress stepped into the unit, warmth flooding her from all sides and seeping right into her skin. She released a shudder as Jacin typed a few buttons on the touchpad by the doorframe which automatically lit up the room. 

Cress immediately wished it hadn’t. 

Calling the unit messy would be an understatement of massive proportions. She smelt the alcohol before she saw it. Rows and rows of reusable cans were scattered around the unit in a weirdly precise manner; some were stacked up against one another, some were carefully placed beside one another in a semicircular pattern, under and over the furniture and some were simply unopened. 

It was a controlled sort of chaos and she didn’t know wether or not to bring it up as Jacin walked past her and plopped down on the grey sofa. At least now Cress knew what he’d been doing all week.

Wisely, she chose not to bring up the room and simply sat down on the closest thing she could find— a coffee table adjacent to the sofa. Jacin winced as she accidentally displaced a can and rubbed his face irritatedly. Now that she could see him better in the light, it was clear that he hadn’t slept in a while. The bags under his eyes were rubbed raw, his eyelids were puffy and he was still in his boxers. 

Cress would’ve normally been embarrassed; he was so different from the polished, professional lunar guard she’d met a few years ago, but now she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but pity. The breakup really did a number on him.

“Would you quit it.”

“Quit what?”

“Stop it. Stop looking at me like I’m some kind of charity case.” 

But still the same snarky Jacin. 

“I’m not!”

“Look, Cress, your face is an open book alright? Just cut it out. I’m completely fine.”

 Cress rolled her eyes. He did not look fine. He had never looked less fine in all the time she’d seen him and she’d seen him nearly die multiple times— but she pursed her lips and turned away. 

It’s not your business, It’s not your business, she repeated the words her therapist had her memorise, in her head. Jacin and you might’ve been friends once but a lot has changed now and it. is. not. your. business. 

“So,” she said out loud, “Cans huh?”

Jacin looked at her in disbelief. 

“If you ever need to talk,” she tried again much to Jacin’s chagrin, “I know someone that can—”

“The only thing I need to talk about is how this job has anything to do with Winter” he snapped. 

‘You idiot.’ Cress mentally scolded herself, Dr. Miriam would be disappointed in her. She really should’ve minded her own business.

“Well, it’s about that glitch I found in one of the databases regarding Lunar immigration—”

“I read the email Cress,” he sighed, “You think it’s some kind of encryption.”

“Exactly, and just last week one of the council members received a notification with the same base code as the glitch—“

“Wait— council members?” Jacin looked at her, surprised, “The Lunar Council’s behind all this?”

“Yes, but just the surface level stuff—” Cress opened her mouth to backtrack but his eyebrows narrowed immediately.

“Is that why you contacted me? Because you needed someone to advocate for the council again?”

Jacin’s relationship with the newly appointed Lunar Council was precarious on a good day, but after everything that happened at their last Annual General Meeting it had derailed into outright hostility. 

Cress chewed the inside of her cheek guiltily; she was partly to blame for that debacle, after all.

“Jacin, this wasn’t Nova’s call—“ 

But he wasn’t listening to her anymore– Jacin had risen to his feet and begun pacing around the room in brisk, controlled strides, keeping well within his can-stacked path. She watched him walk into the kitchen and walk back out, somehow not upsetting a single aluminium-alloy can from its position despite his animated monologue. 

“I knew it! I knew leaving the council to her was a bad move. Let me guess, she wants me to grovel at her feet again. I bet she would just love it if if I came crawling back—”

The ‘she’ in reference to Jacin’s tirade was, of course, the newly instated Lunar Head of the Biochemical Research Wing, Sybil Nova. Daughter of the late Sybil Mira (Head Thaumaturge and Cress’s personal tormentor), and having established a fairly positive reputation within the Lunar community for being a shell herself, Nova was, on paper, the perfect candidate for the job. 

Except for the fact that she opposed the existence of lunar guards. 

Jacin was on a roll.

“Whose stupid idea was it to nominate the daughter of Levana’s old lapdog as the face of the new Lunar Democracy anyway, they’re the real idiots here–”

“Public vote,” Cress chimed in, but he steamrolled right through her, talking to himself now.

“And why appoint ME of all people, with such a futile mission– oh, I know damn well why. She just wants me to come back empty handed so she can rub it in my face; ‘see this is why the lunar guard is so outdated.. now if we sent a mecCorp to do his job’–“

“IT WAS ME, ALRIGHT?!” Cress yelled finally, unable to take much more of his ranting.

“What?” 

She swallowed slowly, nails biting into her palms as she curled her fists.

“It was me. I asked for you to be assigned to the mission.”

Jacin sat back down. 

An awkward silence shuffled between them until Jacin finally leaned forward to try to meet her eyes. Cress’s gaze, however, was stubbornly affixed to the floor. 

“Cress..” He trailed away, unable to find the words.

“I know you’re still mad at me for what happened.”

“I’m not—“

“And,” she pressed on, “That’s fine if you are. I won’t apologise for what I did that day. But this could be bigger than the both of us.”

Jacin shook his head and looked up to his white-grey ceiling. 

“What are you doing, Cress.”

It almost felt like a rhetorical statement when he said it but Cress bristled all the same. 

She considered kicking one of the can dominoes out of pure spite but refrained after seeing Jacin’s expression.

“I’m trying to save my country, Jacin, our country— and I need your help.”

This finally got his attention.

 Jacin rose and helped her up; Cress took his hand confusedly but before she could say anything he’d already guided her to the door and slid it open. 

“Goodbye, Cress.” he said with a note of finality, and locked her out.

______________________________________________________________

Ah. 

Cress debated punching the metal but decided that she wasn’t going to go back with both broken knuckles and a broken promise. They’d just have to settle for one. 

Sighing, she trudged back to her hover and pulled up the notifications on her portscreen. It read: 3 unopened comms. 

Wow. Three already? Carol must be in a bad mood if she sent her three comms within the hour, Cress frowned as she held out her arm, scanning her wrist to open the hover doors. Usually her stringent supervisor refused to go over one, extremely long vidlink that often involved public scolding for a rise in budget costs, even though Cress was sure that they were paying hourly and not per comm. She’d held her tongue anyway, she didn’t need to give Carol yet another reason to hate her.

The hover beeped and deducted 50 univs from her chip but before the doors could flick open, Cress felt something hard and cold press into the back of her head. She didn’t need to turn to know it was a gun. 

She slowly raised her arms in surrender. 

Stay calm, she thought to herself, you’ve been trained for this. But her heart was beating so loud that Cress might have completely missed what her assailant said if they had not punctured each word with a jab to her head. 

“Get. Down. Now.”

Cress obediently dropped to her knees. Unfortunately, the hover was shielding both her and her attacker from the windows of the apartment complex so even if someone had conveniently managed to look outside, they wouldn’t be able to see her.

“What—” She began.

“Be quiet.” 

Cress tried to steady her breathing and focus. 

This must be a robbery, and seeing as her attacker didn’t attempt to use any glamour, they were most likely a shell. The voice sounded muffled, so the attacker was probably wearing a mask— an escaped convict maybe? Someone who didn’t want to be immediately caught and handed in to the guard. Her fingers twitched; it would take all of four seconds to reach into her hover and pull out the standard-issue taser she’d left in the front seat. 

Cress knew she should’ve had it on her at all times, but she didn’t want Jacin to think she’d taser him into submission if he didn’t agree. 

The attacker seemed to be rummaging around for something behind her and swearing quietly, giving her enough time to discreetly flick her wrist. Nothing happened for one second, two and then the hover doors clicked open smoothly, opening outwards like insect wings, blinding the attacker for two infinitely precious seconds and Cress quickly lunged to the side just as the gunshot resounded all around her. 

“Shit— Shit!”

She rose quickly. Now that she had a clearer view of the perpetrator she was taken aback by how young they seemed to look. 

Big brown eyes were their only visible features, with both their hair and the lower half of their face, as Cress had guessed, concealed under a black hood and mask. They were clothed in an inconspicuous outfit, with pale, freckled arms jutting out of an oversized vest, grey pants and hiking boots. She ducked behind the hover again as another gunshot ripped through the night. 

Cress just had to reach into the hover for her weapon and it would all be over, but this kid was making it way more difficult than it needed to be. 

“Hey!” She called out, trying to distract the attacker, “You don’t want to do this.”

“Shut up, Ungifted.” The attacker spat.

Well, okay then. Cress scooted closer to the unlocked hover and blindly reached inside, mentally cursing her lack of foresight. She should’ve expected that someone would’ve recognised her, even though it’d been nearly six years since the Lunar Revolution. 

Their faces had been broadcast over and over like celebrities and there was even a time where she couldn’t walk to her hover without getting ambushed by paparazzi. This was probably some kind of ransom situation.

Her fingers closed around a hard, box like device just as the attacker turned and pointed the gun right between her eyes. 

Cress held her breath. She would’ve been scared if she hadn’t noticed the slight tremor in the attacker’s hand. Her hands had shook the same way when she’d first held a gun. 

“Get up.” 

She quickly scanned the area around her for a distraction but found nothing. She was facing the units directly now. Frowning she tried to discreetly pull the taser out but the attacker narrowed their eyes in suspicion and brought the gun closer. Just as she was about to consider conceding the taser in favour of a well-timed kick, the door to a unit slid open and the last person she’d expected to see walked out. 

Jacin?

Noticing the sudden shock in her eyes, her attacker turned quickly giving Cress enough time to pull her hand out of the hover and pull the trigger on the taser. Two thin silver wires shot out of the device and caught the attacker right in the neck, immobilising them and causing them to drop the gun. 

Cress quickly kicked it away as they crumpled to the ground, and it slid across the paved road, spinning and spinning until it came to rest at Jacin’s feet.

Cress waved at him awkwardly— he looked too shocked to wave back, before she pressed the trigger again and the wires reeled back into her weapon. 

A small part of her was grateful that he’d walked out at just the right time but an even smaller part of her was proud he’d seen her fight and win. It probably wouldn’t change his mind about the job but it would change his mind about her. See, she wanted to say, I’m not weak, I can take care of myself. 

“Cress! Move! ” 

She dropped the taser, alarmed and looked up to see Jacin clutching the gun tightly, pointing it right beside her head. 

“What—“ she began but never finished her sentence. 

The last thing Cress remembered was the sound of glass shattering as the hover door beside her exploded and feeling a tiny needle prick the back of her neck, before her world turned dark and she passed out.

#justminawrites #the lunar chronicles #tlc #tlc fandom #tlc cinder #tlc scarlet #tlc cress #tlc jacin #jacin clay #jacinter #cress darnel #tlc fanfiction #ao3 fic #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 tags #jacin and cress #jacin has PTSD #cress can throw down #they're besties and he hates it #Garisson clay #winter hayle blackburn #platonic relationships #bodyguard shennanigans #fluff #angst #action/adventure #friends to strangers #to begrudging allies to friends #tlc winter

[cress-meadowforge]

private training, july 105.

trigger warnings: suicide, self harm, blood

She’d pressed him, asked to practice, even offered to craft a routine herself. But Slate had refused, stubborn as he was — a snide, slick thing too. “It's supposed to be a secret,” he’d smirked, crossing his arms defensively. “Indulge the Gamemakers in their secrecy, Cress.” Which had, admittedly, pushed her over an already precarious ledge. 

“Slate, the only secret you’re keeping is that you didn’t wear a condom when you came in me,” Cress replied, tone cutting. She wasn’t interested in his childish games, not when they were navigating a much larger, more sinister one. “If you go in there and throw this, or you treat it like one of the satire pieces in your zine—“ another space thriller, set on the alien planet of menap “—then so help me, Snow, I will kill you myself.” But it wasn’t clicking, wasn’t getting through. He was infuriatingly stubborn, and Cress wanted to shake him, to ask when his thick skull had ever actually served him good. 

Then again, she was familiar with every scar, every dent on his body. Cress was fairly certain he would have been dead already if it wasn’t, ironically, for his hard head. Occasionally useful after all, she supposed. 

“Look at me,” Cress took his face, wanting his unwavering gaze. He needed to be refocused from time to time, tethered back to her, to the task or topic at hand. Otherwise, he’d drift off or spiral far away. “You are capable of this, but I cannot force you to go in there and try. I can stand here. I can beg you. Is that what you need? Is that what it would take — for me to beg this of you?” She was angry, the energy in the dynamic out of its natural alignment. He was fire, burning, blazing. Not her. This nonchalant apathy was throwing Cress for a loop. “Show them that there is still fight, still strength. I see it. I know it’s there, as do you. You want to tell them to fuck off? Do it by proving you’re still capable of giving them hell. Show them they didn’t fucking tame you.” 

It was unlike her to advise him into antagonizing the Capitol, but at this point, it was play or die. They were toying with Slate, making a show of it, but the truth was that they’d have an easier time killing him if he refused to engage. “Go in there, pick up a bow, wrap your fingers around a knife — whatever you like. And show them what we have been working on for a year, what you’ve been capable of your entire life.”

When the tributes had finished and the Training Center had been cleared, Cress let herself in to take stock, to draw up the initial requests for replacement inventory. It was the end of training, and it all needed to be patched or polished or cycled out. Inevitably, there would be synthetic blood stains on the mats, or scratches from a fallen blade. Dummies that looked like sponges, so full of stab wounds. Occasionally, something more interesting would arise. The back-up generator had sufficed for the rest of private sessions, but Cress had needed to call an electrician to help after Nano’s stunt, when he’d ripped the wires from the socket and short-circuited the place. 

But this afternoon, Cress opened the door, took a step into the center, and froze. 

At first, she thought time must be moving strangely. She’d been here already, days prior. She’d caused it herself. This wreckage, this massacre. But there were pieces that didn’t match the scene she’d created: a dummy, sprawled headless; a splatter of blood across the window of the viewing box; another target mangled, with its face unrecognizable, having been so brutally stabbed with a broken arrow. Cress stepped further, approaching the decimated mannequin. 

Her shoes stuck to the mat, wet and sticky. Cress looked down. Synthetic blood pooled at her feet, having spilled out of the targets. It coated the ground a slick, shiny red, so glossy that it reflected her own features back. She stared. Surprised, yes, but that morphed quickly. If the Training Center had been this wholly destroyed at any point during the private training process, they would have paused to reset. A quarter of the space was entirely unusable. They would have needed to, in order to continue. 

Unless, of course, there were no tributes left to perform. 

Voices glimmered down from the observation room: a few remaining Gamemakers, picking over the platters of food, deep in their goblets now that they’d submitted scores, chatting jovially about the performances. 

“The pair from Seven–” 

“Peculiar, aren’t they?”

“You’d think they were wild animals–”

“--that they’d never seen a Game before!”

It wasn’t unusual for Cress to hear a smattering of commentary as she righted the center. Only a handful of Gamemakers observed and scored, and Cress had the misfortune of being familiar with a few. Besides, they saw no one but themselves. Like she was an Avox, neither seen nor heard. Simply part of the center itself – another facet of the machine. Cress listened, milling about her work, parsing through the blades to determine which needed to be scrapped, or sharpened, or polished. 

“The two from Eleven won’t last long, but my wife hopes they do–”

“I expected more from the Meadowforge girl–”

“Think McCoy will make it longer than his brother?”

“Depends on if you think the Serpentine boy will be less of a fool than his cousin.”

They carried on, their snide remarks background noise as she finished inventory. The synthetic blood had dried on her shoes, and Cress shifted to powering down the simulator and the plant identification wall. 

“But the Flint kid–”

“--we should have killed him in prison–”

“--we should have shot him on the Tower steps!”

“Where could he have possibly learned to do that?”

“Not from Hestia Ember, certainly.”

“You don’t know that–”

“Oh, and you do?”

They bickered back and forth, but Cress’ interest was piqued. She turned, leaning back against the padded wall directly beneath the Gamemaker’s box. 

“What a savage, feral thing–”

“–a menace–”

“–a beast–”

“A problem,” they agreed, their voices lowering gravely. So quiet, Cress strained to hear. “One we hadn’t accounted for. One we’ll need to fix.”

It seemed to confirm her suspicions about what had happened in this space. Cress lingered, an odd amalgamation of emotions seeping through. Concern, for she knew the kind of rage it took to exact this, the kind of anger that spurred this strength. And pride. A full-bodied sensation that filled her chest. That he had not thrown this, yes, but that they were seeing him for what he was: capable, skilled, a threat. She wanted to laugh, even, to shout up at them that’s what you get for underestimating him. My Slate can do this. He can win.

“That damn Peacekeeper–”

“--should have let him fall. Spared us the trouble.”

“--and let him kill himself like a coward after causing such a scene?”

“Oh, who cares? Let him snap his neck.”

“But then we wouldn’t get to watch it on replay! I want to see him in the arena–”

“--see him die in the arena, you mean.”

“Yes, a canon. Can you blame me?”

“No, I agree. Let them watch–”

“Let them see their precious Meta Morphic brought to his knees.”

Suddenly, Cress wasn’t interested in tidying further. Being here made her uneasy. All she could do was look out at the mat, glossy with blood, and wonder if any of it was real. 

Cress finished wrapping her hair up in a towel, her skin flushed from the shower. She’d coaxed Slate in with her – an excuse to keep him close, to examine his body, but it appeared that he’d emerged nearly unscathed. Only his thighs needed tending, the fragile skin between them burned from friction, cut from odd contact, though she wasn’t sure what caused such markings. 

A jar of salve in one hand and adhesive gauze pads in the other, Cress nudged him onto the bed, seating Slate at the end before she knelt down on the floor. She placed the materials to the side, tucking closer, resting back against his left thigh while she bandaged the right. “What did you do for your presentation?” she asked, curious if he would tell her. Or, if, perhaps, he would lie. They hadn’t broached the subject in the shower; Cress had been focused on cleaning him, on easing him into a more primed state of mind. 

Slate shrugged one shoulder. He was neither proud nor ashamed of what he’d done in the training center; rather, he felt like someone adjacent to him had done all of those things. Cress didn’t need details, though. “It’s supposed to be a secret, remember?”

Of course, that was a useless attempt at avoidance. She wouldn’t let him get away with that, with no details. Not after she’d already tolerated one verbal side-step today. “Try again,” those careful words, a warning that he had disappointed in some way. That he had a chance to correct. Cress turned her eyes up, eyes expectant and knowing; after all, she’d seen the aftermath first-hand. Slate frowned. She was always coaxing things from him. 

“I did what you told me to. I tried.” He supposed that in the end, that had been the result – trying. He’d hit a few bullseyes. Who knew, maybe he wouldn’t score a zero after all.

Cress nodded, her fingers glossed over his skin, a pale sheen of red smudging where the cuts had been scrubbed. “And how’d you get these?”

“Tree,” he said shortly, as if that one word explained everything. But he knew she’d hit him with another try again, knew that he owed her something more, so he said, “I scaled it with my knife. I’ve done that in Twelve before. But I forgot how much thigh shit it involves.” He looked down at himself, having only noticed the pain truly in the shower.

She finished smearing salve over the first set of wounds, placing the jar down. It was Capitol-grade, a gift from Lex in return for some job well done. It would heal the skin before Launch, if he could manage to stay out of trouble for that long. Cress placed the bandage, smoothing the adhesive down to seal it. Then she shifted, to the other side, brows arching without lifting her gaze. “Anything else?” The Gamemakers’ words echoed. Should have let him fall. Let him kill himself. They had just talked about this. He had just said he wanted to live. His own words rippled now: But not like this. 

“Fucked around with the dummies, the targets. The rope ladder.” He shrugged again, wanting that to be it. “It’s over, Cress, I don’t want to go over it all again. Didn’t want to do it in the first place.” She knew that. Reliving the details felt like raking him over the coals. The attempt to end it all in the way he wanted had failed. The attempt to do nothing had failed. He was playing their game whether he liked it or not.

The anticipation of the response didn’t lessen the ache, the sinking sensation of distance or distrust. That he had once again withheld the full truth from her. That he had tried, yes, but had also tried to kill himself – a second time. Cress finished her handiwork in silence, sealing the twin bandage to match the first. She dressed, pulling her limbs through one of his shirts, discarded the towel, put away the salve. Scores would come in a few hours, but she could see Slate was drained now. Tired and empty. He likely wasn’t interested in speculating, in waiting for their release and biding their time. So Cress slipped into bed, the world still light outside, summer’s late sunset just now beginning to dawn. 

“Come here,” another coaxing move. And as Slate curled against her, Cress kissed his head, cradling him close in protective form. He needed to know she was proud, even if he had tried to leave them. Even if he wished for death. “You did well.” An enveloping hold, lips brushing his forehead. “It’s over,” an offering, an echo. A promise not to discuss it anymore. “I love you.”

#tw suicide #tw self harm #134 #self para #slate #inspo: slate #mtoextra

[youcantkillamutant]

Deeper Into The Drink: Chapter I

Author: youcantkillamutant

Fandom: ACOTAR (SJM)

Pairing: Tarquin x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve always known that Cresseida would do whatever it takes to protect the Summer Court. You just didn’t realize that you were a part of that equation. So you vow to do all you can to help Cresseida and protect your court, which is proving to be difficult, what with the scheming lords of Summer, human refugees from the war, sly overtures of kindness from the Night Court and the growing desolation of the neighboring Spring Court. And yet, you think you might have been able to handle all of that, if the High Lord Tarquin wasn’t so…himself. It would have been easier still if your heart didn’t take notice of that fact.

Warnings: Depictions of violence, angst, mentions of death, slow burn (as is my custom), no smut (probably), lots of IC slander

Rating: 18+

Words: 2K+

A/N: Um… Yeah idk how to explain this one honestly? I’m in my “let’s get some critical thinking going about the IC and their shitty actions” era and just can’t deal with how dirty they did Tarquin. So…yeah. I just want Tarquin to have more people on his side honestly. This story is set post-ACOSF in terms of timeline. This is my first time writing in this fandom, so be nice. Don’t like it don’t read it and all that jazz. Not Beta’d we die like men. I own nothing, all characters belong to SJM.  

Prologue |  Read on Ao3  |  Mood Board  |

To survive in court, craft a mask of adamant and pull on the skin of a wolf.

🐚 ☀️ 🐚 

When the war came, you joined the war bands. Of course you joined them alongside your father, your only family left after your mother had died during those dark, fifty years. The first time you saw Cresseida, you wondered at how much she had changed, how much she had aged. She was no longer your mirror, eyes hardened from her time beneath rock and among weary, powerless Fae. Amarantha had changed her, time had changed her and for a moment, you mourned your sister. Between one breath in the next you raged for her innocence long gone, her peace that had been buried under the rubble of massacres and pain. Then she caught your eye. Apparently, you had changed too because she had to look long and hard. When she was sure it was you, she nodded and continued on with her group of Summer Court Lords. 

Later, she called you to her tent. For a while, you both stood across from each other listening to the clinking of pans, clomping of boots, whispers of fear. 

“Cress…” You didn’t know what to say, but you had to let her know that just because you’d both changed, that didn’t mean you couldn’t be different together. Cresseida’s shoulders slumped in a sigh. She understood, she always did.

“I never thought I’d hear your voice again.” You tripped toward each other for a hug and for a moment you were back in your village, laughing in the fields and popping rich, ripe fruit into your mouth. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily sister.” Cresseida’s laugh was a ragged breath, and you knew the sound. It matched your own. Sister, mirror. 

“You’re certain I can’t order you and your father home?” Your face must have slipped into something angry enough for Cresseida to throw her hands up in supplication. “Fine, but you better be safe.” Her hands shook as she pulled them down and behind her back. Cresseida was afraid and that was enough to set your heart racing. Still, you ignored the fear. You had been doing it for decades now, ever since Cress had gone under that mountain. 

“You haven’t been back to the village in ages.” You nudged her shoulder with your own. “We’ve got a shit ton of work to do.” Cress smiled then. 

“Be safe. Promise me sister.” This wasn’t a deal or a bargain, but a benediction, a prayer. 

“I promise.”

☀️ 

After the war, you returned to your village. Alone. On the journey there, you imagined your village as it was when you were a child and Cresseida first joined your family. You imagined the smoke coming from the blacksmith’s forge and the scent of sweet rolls from the baker. You remembered the sun warming your skin with a kiss, not a blister. You could hear the cattle and the sheep and the chickens chattering in a sweet symphony. You savored the goodness of the memory. You knew that memory would not be your village any longer.  

The village was still when you arrived. It was like walking through a painting, you thought, as you caught sight of the closed doors and clear sky. You had been one of the last to return, but now you could see that an earlier arrival wouldn’t have mattered. Most of the villagers, most of your family, were gone. Left in a muddy valley for the crows and maggots. Swept away in a feat of magic never seen in Prythian. Sent to ash and dust by Death Gods. Gone. 

You thought you could do it. You thought you could return home and get back to normal. But there was no going back. You knew that as soon as you crossed the border. You knew it, even as your father’s mating ring heated on the chain around your chest, the only thing left of the male you had loved so dearly. You were meant to throw it in the sea, and you should have done it days ago, so that your father could find your mother in the waves, but you couldn’t. Not yet. You clutched that ring tight as you stepped into your home, needing a physical reminder in the empty silence of the place. 

It’s so godsdamned quiet. You didn’t know what to do, to think, and so you sat in those memories of the people you loved and the land you loved and wept. You mourned the loss of every person your heart held tight, knowing that now, your heart would love a village of ghosts. The loss squeezed at your chest, aching like a phantom limb, and on you wept. Tears fell until your stomach groaned and you laid on your cot in that first room you shared with Cresseida, wishing she was here with you to bear the weight of the loneliness of this place. When your eyes ran dry, you closed them and slept and slept and slept. 

When you opened them, Cresseida was there, peering down at you, worry drawing her brows together. 

“I need your help sister.” 

🐚 

Adriata. The crown jewel of the Summer Court. The City of the Sea. Cresseida had asked you to come, to help her rebuild the city and house the humans and lead. You said yes. Of course you said yes. Even in your despair, you knew that you couldn’t stay in that village. That place that was so much like home but so very empty. So you left the village, and climbed on a horse next to Cress. You did not look back, and hoped that one day, you might be able to forget the quiet that had settled over the village. 

You and Cresseida didn’t speak much on the journey. When she had asked for your help as an advisor, you went silent, mulling over the thought of becoming someone, something new. Your father had been a courtesan, back when Nostrus was alive and a little before then too. He left that life when he met your mother in the same village you were born in, the same village you left behind. He’d told you that he never regretted shedding the skin of a courtesan, pulling off the mask of political competency. He’d said that doing so had allowed him to find himself, be himself. You weren’t sure exactly who you would need to be to survive the Summer Court, but honestly, you had nothing better to do. So you clutched the ring around your chest, and nodded when Cress asked again, wondering what manner of beast you might need to become on the ride to the capital. 

Though your father left the Summer Court at least a century ago, he still kept up with politics. He still remembered everything he’d learned while in the Summer Court. When you were old enough to read, he piled your arms with books about Prythian and magical theory and old gods of the ancient lands and the courts and their powerful families. You read until there were no more books to read, and then he talked you through all he knew of the courts and their intricacies. 

When you were old enough to hold a sword, your father met you on the training ring. A hard packed dirt patch a few miles from the village, where your sweat and blood and tears soaked the ground for years, until they didn’t. He trained you for defense and stealth and even managed to get a few basic dueling rules in your head. 

Your mother on the other hand…As an Autumn court transplant, your mother knew more about surviving in brutally beautiful courts than your father. She’d done it far longer than he had and as a dark skinned woman in the Court of Bloodthirsty Beron…She’d been the one to teach you the art of deception, showing you all the right ways to set a table and the customary foods for visitors of each court. She taught you everything you needed to know to have every male and female in a 20 mile radius eating out of the palm of your hand in an hour. 

She’d hated it all. Hated the necessity of your lessons, she’d left Autumn for a reason after all, but the brunt of it was done by your 16th year, and your father waved her worries off with a kiss. 

“She must learn these things love, just in case. You know that.” 

Staring up, up, up at the grand palace of Adriata, you could almost hear his voice. 

“Just in case.” 

Cresseida dismounted her horse in an elegant huff and you followed suit clutching your baldric from the war close to your chest, the last dagger the village blacksmith ever made thumping your hip in time with your steps. It occurred to you then that you had come to the palace dressed for war. You realized that in reality, you had never truly undressed from war and wondered loosely how much time you had spent in your village, grieving. 

“Are you ready?” Cress rounded to face you, and grabbed your hands in hers. She squeezed them tightly and continued. “I know you’re tired,” she did not say from the journey to the capital, because she knew it was more than that. She felt that same exhaustion herself. Mirrors, sisters. “But I want you to meet my cousins before you retire to your rooms.” 

This, you were not expecting. In all the years you’d known Cresseida, you’d never actually met her family. Hell, you’d never even been to the palace. And now Cress wanted you to meet the High Lord and the General of the Summer Court, sweaty and smelling like the grave? 

“I’ll make a terrible first impression.” Cress snorted. 

“Impossible, I’ve already told them all about you.” 

“Cress! What did you tell them?!” Cresseida’s mouth lifted mischievously as you slapped her arm. Cress had plenty of embarrassing stories she could’ve shared about you, and you were not keen on having the High Lord know about the time you’d leaned so far over the lake to look at a water lily that you fell in, headfirst. 

“Nothing bad! I promise.” At your look of disbelief she exclaimed, “I swear on the Cauldron!” Cress pulled you alongside her as you passed the arching doorway into the palace guiding you deeper into the glittering hallways. You dropped your argument in favor of gawking at every inch of the place. Your father had taught you everything he could, describing the palace and its stately rooms in what you thought was extraordinary detail, but you were wrong. Nothing compared to the real thing.

The marble floors reflected the sunlight warming them and hallways were wide enough to fit an army through. The walls were lined with aristocratic paintings of the past High Lords along with their families and favored warriors. The hallways were dotted with arched entryways leading off to other parts of the palace, in the way that the seas always led to rivers and estuaries and streams. You had slowed to inhale the scent of the sea and smoked fish from the city below, savoring the calm you found in the crisp breeze the city sounds and the sunlight streaming through the palace. 

It wasn’t home, but it felt familiar. Like you were returning to the home of a long forgotten family member. Everything was different except it wasn’t. The scent of citrus still permeated the palace, same as it did your home after cleaning. The sun still shone the same as it did in the village. This was still the Summer Court, but a little more polished, a little more refined. It made the thought of slipping into a mask easier, because this place would only be able to fit a more refined you, a sharper you. 

You’d asked your father what his court mask was like once, what he’d really changed when he shed that courtesan armor. He’d said he was sharper, barbed and made of adamant. Unbreakable. He’d showed you once, the face he held in court. It was ice blue eyes and cutting smiles. You were amazed to see it come back to him so quickly, like he’d taken off the mask but kept it close just in case. After that conversation, you practiced your own mask. Every night, before bed, you’d flatten your face and chill your eyes. Raise one brow slowly with disdain you’d never truly felt and curled your lip into a small snarl. You’d worked on it for two years until you’d gotten it right. Then one winter night, you slipped on that mask and it unsettled you. It was always easiest to draw up the sharpness within you in the winter. The fruit wasn’t quite fresh enough to be perfect and you missed the true Summer sun, not the seasonal magic with warmth that wasn’t quite right. 

Now, as the Prince of the Summer Court approached you and Cresseida, you slipped on your mask, flat faced and unremarkable. He may be Cress’s brother, but you had never met the male. Everything about Varian was broad. His shoulders, his nose, his lips. His brown eyes, nearly black sparkled with mirth when he saw his sister. Cresseida did the work of introducing you as you studied the prince. He wore the summer court blues on a tunic beneath cream fighting leathers. Clearly for aesthetics only, you knew because you’d seen him briefly during the war. He was wearing a full set of indigo armor then, dark at the depths of the sea, and it was spotted with more blood than you cared to remember. The prince stood stock straight, but his chin bowed. It was slight and he seemed to correct himself often, but you had to wonder if 50 years crouching under a mountain had created a habit of slouching to fit into spaces not meant for a fae his size. 

“Ah, so you’re the village girl my cousin is obsessed with.” Cresseida punched the general in the arm. You raised your brow and met his eyes. He only grinned wider showcasing bright white teeth. They made his brown skin look even darker and lovelier. “Wonderful to finally meet you,” Varian pulled your hand to his, and pressed a light kiss to it. “welcome to the circus.” Laughing, he sauntered towards the palace entrance. You turned to Cress then, and the look on your face had her groaning. 

“Yes that’s my brother, and yes, he’s always that annoying.” You snorted a laugh and looped your arm in hers. 

“Poor you.” Cress sniffed and placed her palm over her heart. 

“Finally, someone who understands what exactly I have to deal with when it comes to that idiot. Don’t get me started on his girlfriend.” You laughed loudly then, and it felt like you were teenagers again, swapping stories about court and strolling through the village arm in arm. Your heart squeezed at the memory while you savored the laughter.

“Cresseida, please don’t tell me you’re complaining about your brother again?” You hadn’t noticed the click of fine shoes on the marble hallway and by the time you did, your laughter had died as you stared at the newcomer. 

“It is a sibling’s right Tarquin!” The High Lord of the Summer Court rolled his eyes at your friend and you took your time studying the male. He was taller than you’d expected, and the ease in his stance spoke of the grace of a warrior and a prince. A male clearly comfortable with power. He wore a sleeveless tunic, blue as the summer sky, bordered with golden embroidery depicting cresting waves. Skin, like the richest soil wrapped around large biceps, strong forearms and nimble fingers. Fingers that looked to lean more towards writing rather than swordplay. 

The ocean breeze danced through the room, slipping through his white hair and making his nostrils flair just a bit. You shifted, head tilting to the left as you stared at the male. In all honesty, you hadn’t thought much about what the High Lord might look like. Cress had told you what he was like, his personality and attitude, but she’d never mentioned he was so…beautiful. Cresseida was speaking, but you didn’t manage to tune in to hear exactly what she’d said, only noting that she’d nodded in your direction. 

And so the High Lord turned to where Cresseida had nodded, to you. His blue eyes caught your own and for a moment you stopped breathing. Everything about his stance was causal power, but his eyes, somehow kind and calculating, pulled you in. You may have stopped breathing because you were in the presence of a High Lord for the first time, but as his gaze traveled down, down, down, it lit a fire at the very core of you. The warmth licked up to your chest like a dancing flame, and you could even feel your cheeks heating at the intensity of his…perusal. 

“It’s lovely to meet you my Lady, my cousin spoke warmly of your father, and Cresseida does the same for you. I’m looking forward to seeing more of you in my court.” You tried to piece together the mask you had so finely constructed all those years ago, but in front of this High Lord it was like trying to grasp the waves of the sea. You settled for a nod, dipping your chin and dropping your eyes. 

“Thank you my Lord.” You heard him release a breath, quick, like an aborted laugh and your eyes flicked up to him attempting to see what exactly was funny about your response. The High Lord only gave you a smile, turning to nod at his cousin before striding off. 

You watched the High Lord’s back, and wondered how the hell you were going to keep your focus.

__________________________________________________________

A/N: Um…This beyond angsty, especially for me, but yay Tarquin? I’m hoping for this to get cuter? But I honestly don’t know if it will? I already got some diatribes ready for the IC to hear and those will not be pretty lol. So, so far very melancholic over here.

This is really kind of a filler chappie for what comes next, and I’m excited to dive into that! 😘 

As always, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy! 

#My writing #mine #Deeper Into The Drink #Tarquin #TarquinxBlack!FemReader #cresseida #varian #summer court #acotar #acomaf #acowar

[forcedtoland]

jacin clay in "cress" (2/2)

hi!!! welcome to part 2/2 of me just talking about jacin clay because i finished rereading cress and i love him a ridiculous amount

remember when i said the second part would be up "in a few days"? yeah me neither.

part 1 can be found here!

this post will cover his moments in cress from chapter 29 and on. enjoy<3

disclaimers:

this post might include spoilers for all of the lunar chronicles series, since i sometimes make links with moments from the other books!

it will also probably end up being long because i have the wonderful tendency to overanalyze everything

for a bit of context, cinder just found dr. erland in farafra and is staying with him with part of the crew. part of crew being iko (still body-less and working full-time as a ship at that point of the book), wolf (unconscious) and jacin (barely trustworthy snarky potential-maybe-hopefully ally). not exactly an ideal situation, socially, for cinder.

jacin is painting over the naked lady on the rampion ship to cover it — HE DOESN'T GET PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS

he actually isn't getting paid at all he seemingly dislikes working with them and at that point he shows no clear motive to why he's helping them. i can't imagine how confusing that must be for cinder.

and yet he still cooperates. sure he throws in a lot of snarky remarks here and there (read: every 4.7 minutes) but he's still cooperating. and yet he's very much expressionless and keeps his mind blank all the time, shows no effort to seem trustworthy to the others... very much giving "oh i like to keep people guessing"

"Hey, mongrels, try to stay in the lines!" — i had to look up what mongrel means and even after searching i'm a bit confused but all i can say is that please do not let jacin babysit kids alone ever he'd terrorize them

wait but no he wants to be a doctor i like to think that he secretly is good with kids or maybe he only realizes that post-winter (when did this post turn into a hc)

"I’ve taken enough orders in my life.” YOU GO JACIN

no but he's kinda right even if he was harsh with cinder? the kids' painting was adorable but it wouldn't exactly be discreet when the entire world is on the look out for the rampion...

when cinder says “You have a funny way of showing loyalty.” and he just chuckles in response — and let the ambiguous loyalty misunderstanding continue

he chuckled

also stop being cryptic jacin this is why no one likes you /j

i really need to share this entire interaction because i was laughing so hard

Jacin’s concern turned fast to annoyance. “Your ship has some messed-up priorities, you know that?”

“Iko. My name is Iko. If you don’t stop calling me the ‘ship,’ I am going to make sure you never have hot water during your showers again, do you understand me?”

“Yeah, hold that thought while I go disable the speaker system.”,

jacin: ship, can you stop talking

iko: but i'm iko, the literal reason you have warm water and functioning lights i could literally cut off your internet access right now and make sure you always get locked inside the bathroom i will—

jacin: ok iko, can you stop talking

like he's just so annoying but i can't even be mad because it's so funny. my guy is stuck with people who don't trust him, outnumber him and could easily take him down if needed and he insists on antagonizing them at any chance he gets just because he can.

i love that the others never hesitate to put him in his place though like yess rampion crew humble him make him develop those social skills

i promise he's my comfort character

Cinder punched him.

Jacin stumbled against the wall, already chuckling as his hand came up to his cheekbone. “Did I hit a nerve, or was it a wire that time? You have plenty of both, right?”

what can i say.. if he gets punched again after this that's on him

thing is, jacin's so hostile when cinder is talking about her plan because he thinks she's just insane like ?? what is this 16 year old outlaw doing trying to overthrow a tyrant

you have to remember he has NO idea she is princess selene and he definitely did not sign up for this

at least kai believes cinder is doing it because she found princess selene. jacin never even considered the possibility of selene being implicated he literally just can't figure out what's wrong with these people and why they even think they have a chance against levana

long-ish quotes because jacinter<33

"I’m here because I saw an opportunity to get away from that thaumaturge without getting killed, and—” He cut himself off.

“And what?”

His jaw flexed.

“And what?”

“And it’s what Her Highness would have wanted me to do, although now she’s probably going to die for it.”

!^*#*%*@*×&#&#,,HERE WE GO

first let's appreciate the fact that he flexes his jaw and stops himself from mentioning winter

it's just. the fact that every time he thinks or mentions her his entire demeanor changes and it's so painfully visible. he's trained his whole life to hide everything from his face but he can never control his reactions when it comes to winter.

the way he abruptly cut himself off isn't something he can just shrug off. everyone noticed it. everyone knows he was about to say something important or he wouldn't have reacted that way. he probably knows that avoiding the question again (which is about the reason he joined them) would just make him more suspicious so he continues what he was saying and mentions the princess, basically confirming that he's not working for levana in any way.

also in the last sentence, and in a later quote too, he implies that something might happen to winter... and we all know what jacin does at the end of cress right

and then the big reveal, the moment we've all been waiting for: “Princess Winter. Who do you think?”

like sorry but he has NO clue why everyone would ever question who "the princess" is or why they're surprised and it’s just so funny to me? just thinking how in his perspective the rampion crew probably seem like a bunch of weirdos (like, on top of it all, you don't seem like you know who THEEE princess winter is? do better.)

“I thought maybe the princess would be proud if she heard about me turning against Sybil. That she would approve of my decision. But who am I kidding? She’ll never even know.”

HE WNATED HER TO BE PROUD OF HIM SHUT UP??????

i'm sorry but i just. they . i always talk about how jacin kept being a lunar guard no matter how hard it was for him so he can protect winter & his family but can we also talk about how one of the main things winter has always wanted was for him to be able to escape this life? even if it meant she would have to stay alone?

jacin and winter depend on each other's presence to endure the lives they've been forced into. they give each other a reason to tolerate it no matter how bad things get. and yet, all they want is for the other to be able to improve their situation.

jacin would do anything for winter, that we know. and since she's in no position to ever leave her situation (unlike jacin who technically can try, but would risk too much) the best thing he can do to help her is stay by her side, even if it means sacrificing a lot.

meanwhile, the fact that winter encourages him to leave means that she is willing to let go of him if it means him living a better life. considering her situation, her condition & the fact that jacin is literally her only friend, it takes so much selflessness to put him first like that.

they just want the best for the other. they love each other so much.

and obviously, jacin never planned on leaving her for good here, but for once he's taking initiative. he doesn't want to follow orders anymore. he took a chance. and winter would be proud of him for that.

“Do you … do you love her?”

He glared at her, disgusted. “Don’t try to push your swoony psychodrama on me. I’m sworn to protect her. Can’t very well do that from down here, can I?”

jacin, baby, you're also "sworn to protect" levana, i don't think that excuse really works here...

and there he goes contradicting me right after i said they love each other so much. but he didn't deny it, did he?

“Protect her from what? Levana?”

“Among other things.”

Jacin peered at her like he couldn’t figure out why he was wasting his time with such an idiot.

that last line@^*$ he really has no idea why his loyalty to his "princess" (the only current lunar princess) would ever cause so much confusion.

now, a necessary compilation of jacin clay being an absolute menace

when they're all surrounded by authorities and cinder asks jacin if he can control any of the humans, and he goes "Yeah, right." — he doesn't even TRY ???? also this shows that he doesn't believe in his lunar gift skills at all oh wow

this thorne/jacin interaction:

"In that case, has anyone seen my gun?”

“I’ve got it,” said Jacin.

“Can I have it back?”

“Nope.”

a MENACE i tell u

but also good on u for not giving a blind man a gun, jacin

"When he did talk, he tended to say something rude or prickly." that's my boy

take a shot every time someone describes him as looking extremely bored

“Let’s say you manage to pull this off, not that I really think you will.” — WHAT HAPPENED TO BOOSTING TEAM MORALE

cinder giving him instructions and him repearing "I know." after each sentence (until thorne cuts her off and goes "Cinder, he knows." — he might have saved some lives here)

also i need more thorne/jacin interactions i can't wait to reread winter & stars above

AND...... jacin betrays them

i'm going to be honest there i haven't read the 4th book in so long so i forgot some things related to that — like i know he did it for winter's sake but the exact specific reason is just a vague memory so i can't say much about this part

but we do get this scene with him and levana and i feel like it's so important to point out the fact that the queen herself decides to confront some "lowly guard" and you can even tell through their conversation how much she's just looking for an excuse to have him be considered a traitor... and obviously she'd love that to make winter suffer

jacin claims that he infiltrated the rampion crew as a spy and that he betrayed them after gathering info, etc.

he says that he's the one who gave sybil the location (did he though? i forgot lol)

levana tries to test his mind for rebellion but his mind is blank as always — obviously she's disappointed to not find anything but can we just talk about how ???? like even levana who has an EXTREMELY strong gift and an insane amount of practice can't even get near his thoughts and oh he's able to do that

NO DOUBT YOUR EAGERNESS TO RETURN ENCOMPASSED A DESIRE TO SEE YOUR BELOVED PRINCESS AS WELL

and THERE the "tiniest ripple of emotion" before he goes all blank again

sorry i know i've said this before but even after years and years of practice and mastering that expressionless face it takes the MOST MINIMAL mention of winter for it to break in an instant my heart hurts she's his weakness and he doesn't even try to pretend otherwise

like. he goes on saying he serves the entire royal family — first of all, very careful wording because levana would be the type to find ANYTHING to use against him (like i can totally see her going "oh, so you don't protect my beloved stepdaughter? that's treason" if he hadn't)

but also it prevents him from telling a full lie about it. idk if this makes sense but something i've noticed is that jacin is ok with lying / hiding many things but when it comes to winter, he goes with half-truths.

is it because he knows he can't control his expression anyway and that his emotions would give him away?

is it because he knows they would force it out of him if he tried to? (since he's used to being controlled)

maybe it's that something in him prevents him from denying it, like even if it's a lie he just can't say it...

idk... but i do know that he didn't attempt to lie about it even with the rampion crew

no one, not even lunars with their gift, can figure out his thoughts so it actually seems fair that we rarely have any idea what goes through his mind either lmao

WHEN JACIN FINDS OUT THAT CINDER IS SELENE AND HE DOESN'T EVEN TRY TO HIDE HIS EXPRESSION

it's like. Oh. Oh.

suddenly everything starts to make sense to him and i have to say it had me grinning

actually, thinking about it, it's kinda good that jacin acted like an antagonistic jerk for 90% of cress (guys i promise i love him) because can you imagine if the rampion crew trusted him? if they had shared their secrets with him?

not only would hiding the plans he'd have known about from levana have been nearly impossible, but he also might not have had a properly shocked reaction at dr. erland saying that cinder is selene and hide the fact that he had known like...

levana would have gotten to them so easily.

in conclusion, jacin clay is the reason the lunar chronicles has a 4th book in the first place. his sarcasm single handedly extended the plot. everyone say thank you jacin.

this is technically the last moment jacin appears in cress BUT if you think i wasn't going to scream about winter talking about him to scarlet, then there is no way you have been actually reading this post because of course i'm going to scream about it

first things first, she is playing make-believe doctor/patient with scarlet

I REPEAT: doctor & patient

this isn't even directly related to jacinter but i don't care i'm making it about jacinter

when she talks about jacin going missing :(((( i'm so upset can you imagine how hard it must have been for her... her going "and I don’t know if he’ll ever come back" and nearly dropping everything

i just find it so interesting that while jacin never shows his emotions, you can feel winter's strongly. like she's so physically expressive, and not just in terms of facial expressions.

"But I asked the stars to send a sign that he was all right, and they sent me a shooting star across the sky."

despite scarlet not really looking like she's about to answer her / cooperate, she just keeps going and asks whether he's safe... she's so worried about him i'm actually sad

more about how expressive winter is:

when scarlet confirms she saw jacin: "Glee spread over the girl’s face."

the instant scarlet implies that jacin might have been killed: The smile vanished and the girl shriveled away, tying her arms around her waist. “You don’t mean that.”

it's just so interesting how marissa meyer made them complete opposite in that aspect. winter shows her emotions in such an open, unfiltered way, to the point you feel that emotion yourself, meanwhile jacin...

“Jacin Clay,” she whispered. “Sybil’s guard, with the blond hair and beautiful eyes and the rising sun in his smile. Please, tell me he’s all right.”

i love this quote a lot because first of all you can just feel how in love winter is oh god she loves him so much (also it's just so endearing coming from her)

second of all, it's just the huge contrast between the jacin we've seen up until now and winter's version of jacin (who is technically his real personality)

and obviously, as i'm rereading this i can immediately go "awww" but i can imagine that when reading it for the 1st time, when you don't know either of them that well, you'd go ?? who? is winter just blinded by her crush that she sees what she wants to see? or has jacin clay actually been nice to another living being before in his lifetime?

and scarlet mirrors that thought perfectly because she's like,, well i remember a blond guard but definitely not a rising sun in his smile. or a smile point blank. also he tried to murder us.

and then winter doesn't even react to the last part. him trying to kill other people. she's absolutely unconcerned.

and it's not in a "oh yeah he does that sometimes" type of unconcerned (which i've seen with different fictional characters for who killing is a 'normal' thing). but no really, her lack of concern about it is because she knows he would never do that willingly.

she knows he has had to do things he doesn't want to do as a guard. that fact doesn't change the image of jacin she has, since she's known him for so long, way before he became a guard.

and i just love that because all the other tlc ships meet during the story's timeline, right? so they all have their moments where they don't fully trust the others, or doubt each others' loyalties, etc. especially in the early stages of each relationship, you have several moments where a certain action one does or miscommunication causes some sort of conflict between them.

take wolf/scarlet, for example, wolf also gets forced into doing things unwillingly, and despite knowing that, scarlet still hesitates in trusting him.

not that it's a bad thing! if anything, it's realistic. completely normal. even when you really care about someone, if you don't know them enough, sometimes 1 wrong move (even if it turns out you just misinterpreted the situation) can make you mistrust them for a while.

but jacin & winter are way past that stage like there is nothing one of them could do that would make them immediately think the other might be a bad person after all or anything like that. they just know each other too much for that.

plus, she knows how ridiculously rational he is all the time so she knows that if he did a certain thing, he had his reason and it was probably his best option at the time.

have i mentioned how much i love them btw

so. that was something.

pleeaaaase leave your thoughts in replies and reblogs let's talk about jacin i want to talk about jacin

i'm also planning on rereading winter at some point, too, and i'm wondering if i should make a jacin post for that. will it end up being 6 parts long? perhaps. but i'm still considering it.

if you somehow made it to the end and don't yet want to block me for how ridiculously long this post is, then congratulations! you are now officially a citizen of the Jacin Clay Nation. we are proud to have you here with us.

part 1

#ik i make fun of him a lot in this post but i swear i love him #jacin clay #the lunar chronicles #winter hayle blackburn #jacinter #jacin x winter #winter x jacin #cress #marissa meyer #tlc #tlc reread

[waffietato]

Man, can I like, talk about how hard it's gonna be for Tales of Luminaria to actually pull itself off the ground? And Crestoria's shutdown by itself, too.

Like already, from the start, it was getting some unsure glances from the fans because it felt totally different from all the other Tales games, but after they announced Crestoria getting shut down, everyone at this point knows not to get attached.

And, at this point, who am I to blame them?

Crestoria genuinely should've been a console game. The story, the characters - all of it was great enough to BE its own game. And I'm not one to dish out hate on mobile games- I'm a fan of Kingdom hearts ffs. We had a mobile game that gave us big lore points and plot points for the future.

But fucking hell, Tales and its history of mobile games is ridiculous. They didn't even FINISH the Crestoria story. And while I'm happy we're getting a Manga for it, believe me, it's not.. The same.

I wanted to PLAY this game. Cherish it and love it. And we didn't get answers to so many things. We didn't get closure or conclusions- nothing.

And it's not like they haven't made a Tales game before where there were crossover characters. Radiant Mythology got a lot of shit, but it's still there and it's still on the psp. They could've pulled off a main title that had crossover characters.

I started playing Crestoria after seeing some fanart about it, and god, it just pulls you in automatically. It feels like a big-screen game. But it's not- and I hate that it's disappointing. Like, I hated that I was getting into this game, knowing what Tales does to its mobile games, knowing what was gonna happen, but I got attached.

Vicious and Kanata and Misella- Aegis and Yuna and Orwin- fucking hell, even Luke and Emil and Reid and Cress and literally all the crossover characters

I'm so

Upset.

Like I loved them a lot. I loved the game a lot.

It's kind of sad that they're just throwing it away.

Yknow? Crestoria even inspired me to go and write my own story. I looked at Crestoria at its surface level with, "hehe, funky group of criminals learning to grow from their sins and also learning more about the fucked up justice system" and went "yeah. Yeah I want something like that"

And my story evolved into something more original and nice, and I love it.

But Crestoria was always the base inspiration for that, and it's like..

It was that good.

Everything was amazing to me.

I felt what the characters felt, and sure, sometimes the writing could've been better, but honestly?

Crestoria was a 9/10 for me. I wish they wouldn't dump it. I hope the Manga doesn't make too many drastic changes.

#Tales of Crestoria #Crestoria #Tales of series #Tales of #Yeah #Maybe they will make an actual big game out of it #Maybe #Probably not but I can hope #It's #I'm feeling a lot. #The game gets shut down tomorrow and I don't feel any better from when I first found out #Crestoria means a lot to me #I hope Luminaria can do good #But I don't think I can stick around for it #I don't wanna make the same mistake

[gingerale2017]

How To (Not) Date a Celebrity

Step One: (Don’t) Accidentally Get Drunk and Hook-up With Them

7 months before the Concert

“CINDER!” Iko screeched from inside. Cinder jumped and hit her head on the engine of the car. She cursed and rolled out into the open, where it wasn’t as congested, and got underneath the car. She took a second to relish the coolness of October before answering her friend.

“What?” she called, inspecting the garage. It was messy, as usual, with tools hanging in no particular order or parts left around somewhere random.

“I GOT US TICKETS TO PRINCE KAI’S CONCERT!” squealed Iko as she opened the film door in the corner of the garage, “AND GUESS WHAT?!”

“What?”

“OURS ARE VIP’S!” her heels clacked against the concrete floors and she was about to throw her arms around Cinder before reconsidering, “You look... greasy.”

Cinder sighed, “I was under this car for twenty minutes, of course, I am,” she started fidgeting with her gloves, “and you look nice, where are you going?”

Iko smiled and curtsied, showing off a simple pink dress that stopped just below the knees with spaghetti straps, “Cress set me up a blind date- OH AND I FORGOT TO MENTION: Scar, Wolf, Cres, and Jacin are going too, but we only have the VIP Tickets,” she winked, “OH I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE THE ONE AND ONLY: KAITO PRINCE!”

“That’s his actual name?”

“Yup.”

“Oh. Then his ‘singer name’ is kinda unoriginal,” Cinder used her fingers to mimic quoting.

Iko frowned, “Well-” Her phone interrupted her, “Oop, gotta take this, it's Ms. Linetti, BRB.”

Cinder nodded, thinking Iko was kind of funny using texting acronyms in real-life conversations. She sighed and sat back down to work on the car.

She rubbed her eyes, groaning. Tired as she was, she needed to fix this car today, as she promised.

Why was Iko so excited for a guy? It’s only a concert. ‘VIP Tickets are cool though’ she thought, ‘maybe I can get excited like Iko too.’

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The Concert

The concert was packed. People of all ages were everywhere and even the VIP section was full. Kai smiled, feeling relieved that the tour was over and he only had to go on a plane one more time to go home.

“Mr. Prince, we added an after-concert VIP Ticket Meet, so you have to go and, well meet them,” Torin said absentmindedly, “an announcement has been said so it’ll be best that you make your way there.”

“Of course, thank you for reminding me Torin,” his manager nodded.

Kai run a hand through his hair and wished for a hoodie to feel more comfortable. He chose instead to wear what he was wearing during the performance to greet his fans. That was a ‘thin button-down white shirt with the first three to four buttons unbuttoned’- exact words from Gina, the clothing lady, as she liked to be called.

He stopped before the lounge room, where the VIPs waited. They’ve been there for a bit, taking advantage of the drinks available. Kai sighed. Hopefully, no one would try to make out with him this time. He opened the door and was immediately met with a girl that had varying shades of braided blue hair. Soft jazz was playing through the speakers, to make the room more comfortable and some people were swaying to it. He switched his attention to the girl.

“OH MY STARS,” she squealed, “IT’S YOU! I’M FIRST! CAN I HAVE A PHOTO?”

Kai remembered her when she asked for a selfie earlier, “Iko, right?”

“AH, YOU REMEMBER ME!” she turned to the brunette next to her with tanned skin and a drink in her hands, “CINDER HE REMEMBERS ME!” Iko shook the girl.

“Oh, that’s great Iko,” she said, prying Iko’s hands off her. She then looked at her empty drink, “I’m going to get another drink, see you later.”

“B-BUT HE’S RIGHT-,” Iko sighed, “Sorry about her, she’s been a bit, erm-impossible today,” she looked back at Kai, “Can I have another photo?”

For some reason, he found himself staring at the brunette’s back. Nobody in a long time had treated him with such disinterest. He smiled. It was sort of refreshing.

Kai looked back at Iko, “Of course, you may.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

(Cinder’s POV)

Later That Night

Cinder sighed, feeling light-headed. She sat on the couch and spread out her limbs. Iko had said something about Ms. Linetti and told her to get a ride from Cress or something. Maybe she’ll order an Uber or catch a taxi.

“Excuse me, is anyone else sitting here?” she looked up and recognized the voice immediately. It was Kaito Prince, the reason she was in this place. He wouldn't stop talking to her, so she just accepted his presence. Then she started taking back and they drank together. After that, they started a drinking game and now she was sure one of them was drunk. Maybe both. But not her.

She frowned, “No, but go away.”

“Sorry?”

“Leave me beeee.”

He turned around and frowned, “There’s no one else here.”

“They left,” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Wait, where are we?!”

Cinder thought they were still at the VIP lounge but it looked like a... Hotel? “Oh my gosh, did you kidnap me?” she asked.

“No, no, I don’t know, did I?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m going to sleep,” he walked over to the bed, “goodnight.”

Cinder frowned and walked to the bed as well, “move I want to sleep too,” Kai made space.

After a few minutes of silence, he began to squirm, “I’m hot.”

“You didn’t know that?”

“No I mean I’m physically hot.”

“Yes you are, Mr. Good-Looks.”

“No, I’m sweating.”

“Oh. Me too,” Cinder hummed, “If we take off our shirts we wouldn't be as hot.”

“Good idea,” They stripped off their top layers, “much better.”

After a few seconds of silence, Kai spoke again, “Cinder?”

“Hmm?”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Kai.”

Cinder fell asleep, not knowing she would forget everything in the morning.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

(The Next Morning)

Rays of sunlight fell on Cinder’s face, disturbing her sleep. She groaned and twisted around on her other side, pulling the sheets to her neck.

She had to get up, so many things to do, so little time, but her body wouldn't let her. She felt terrible, what did she do last night- oh right. The concert and the bass made her heart pound painfully. The VIP Tickets and the VIP Lounge. Iko left early because Ms. Linetti was being difficult. And the star of the show: Prince Kai.

He started talking to her I'm after he took photos with everybody and she was very shocked. What in stars' name would he do- anyway, then she... Then...she... Then...

She struggled to remember what happened after that but it was blurry. She could only remember... Kai. It was like he was the main component in every limited memory. How strange.

Cinder rubbed her eyes. The grogginess was causing her memory to falter, so it was simply the morning.

Something rustled beside her and she opened her eyes wide. Someone was in her bed. Shit

She immediately got out of her bed and realized it wasn't hers. She was in someone else’s room. Shit.

Cinder dug her hands in her hair and spotted her shirt laying on the floor. She gasped, finally noticing she was without a shirt, and connected the dots.

Ok, she had memories of last night and felt terrible in the morning. She had been drunk, most likely and Iko left when she started to feel tipsy. She talked to Kai a lot, and couldn’t seem to remember anyone else. And she had a one-night stand with someone too.

So that meant the person Cinder spent the night with was...

“Do you remember anything from last night?” Cinder gasped and turned on her heels. Prince Kai, Kaito Prince, Kai, whatever he went by was staring at her with incredibly pretty copper eyes... Shirtless. No. Fucking. Way. Cinder refused to believe it, she was dreaming, she must be dreaming, “Cinder?”

She suddenly remembered that she wore only a bra and sweat pants at that moment and lunged for her shirt. She spoke as she hauled it on, “All I remember is talking to you in the VIP Lounge,” she stood up, “I’m clueless after that.”

“Oh, I can’t remember a thing either. It’s fuzzy, like static,” Stars, he was handsome. Stars, she shouldn't be thinking this. But they had spent the night together so it was alright. Stars Above, what was wrong with her?!

Cinder turned around, “I-I need to go. Now,” she found her items that were surprisingly neatly packed on the chair near the window. She looked again to see if she was missing anything, then looked at Kai. He seemed very tired and hungover, and very confused, “Um, thank you for the hospitality? See you around?”

Kai nodded at her questionably and right before she left the room he called, “Wait!”

“What?” Cinder said, a little annoyed.

“I just wanted to say I'm sorry for this,” he searched for the right word, “rather uncomfortable situation.”

A small smile broke on her face, “It's not your fault. Goodbye, I guess?”

He nodded again, “It was great meeting you.” Cinder was surprised he remembered her name, “Goodbye.”

Cinder left the room and took her phone out. Maybe she could order an Uber or something. But she could barely focus because her head was still trying to unravel the mystery of last night and she had this strange feeling that this was not the last time she was going to see Kai. That was stupid; Kai was a pop star and Cinder was a simple mechanic. And she was back in square one. What she needed to do was to forget this ever happened and go back to her life without... Whatever this is. Lives don't change because of a one-night stand so her’s won't either. She will be fine and she’ll never, ever remember this.

Masterlist

Tag List: @i-will-write-someday @greenalmond @the-wee-woo-rita @shellyseashell @icyandthefrostbites @hillbilly-circe @shelbylmkaider @not-the-founder-of-rome @crescentchat @just2bubbly @tamakis-ears @ever-squish @fangirlforever0704 @deprivedmusicaljunkie @notjacinclay @zephyr-thedragon @cerenoya @a-salting-the-world @rapunzelfromthemoon on (ask if you wanna be added or removed <3)

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#kaider #tlc #the lunar chronicles #emperor kai #lunar chronicles #cinder linh #linh cinder #rampion crew #iko #prince kai #emperor kai <3 #emperor kaito <3 #queen selene blackburn #htndac

[midday0dreams]

* jeno - fluff with a pinch of angst.

- strikethrough text meant as an internal thoughts -

masterlist

      You came in dragging your feet, obviously grumpy.. laid on the couch placing your head on your boyfriends lap, the boyfriend who was busy for the past hours gaming in the same spot.

you kept tossing and moving trying to find a comfortable position but no success.

your stomach was hurting you, schools been rough, the weather is depressing, you’er bored.. and other internal issues you were dealing with but not wanting to face just yet, and everything you kept inside eat at you, it targeted your stomach, and the amount of coffee you had add to the fire.

after a while the round he was playing was over and it was your chance to demand your needed dose of attention from Jeno, you sat beck on your knees abruptly surprising him .. and in the most dramatic way you could you spoke ‘BABE.. I need you!’, you pushed his obnoxious headphones off of his head to secure his attention, he was looking at you with knotted eyebrows finding you both cute and concerning at the same time..

 ‘my stomach hurts.. quick love me before I die’  he breaks his sweet smile and his angelic eyes disappear into two crescent.. your mission has been successful.

he moves forward to put his gaming gear on the coffee table and sets back and taps his lap for you come.. full with smiles you move to straddle him and lay flat on him, one kiss pressed on his shoulder as a thank you, your head rest in the crock of his neck enjoying his warmth and his intoxicating smell.

he soothes your body with soft cresses down your back, over your thighs, occasionally squeezing your into his chest and kisses your head, fascinating how he can fix you with just being here, what is he? a magician? .. ‘wanna talk about it?’ he breaks the silence, he sees right throw you no matter how discreet you try to be.

#nct 127 #nct dream #nct jeno #lee jeno #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct boyfriend #nct dream fluff #nct agnst #nct scenarios #nct dream jeno #nct 127 fluff