#i did also end up changing the design on his tunic. so the comment on it from kojin’s ref is a little off now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cassiabaggins · 3 years

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Gifts

A/N: Part/day five! I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for the comments on the previous parts!

Wordcount: 3k

Tags: @anjhope1 @deathlikessodaandpizza @guardianofrivendell @myrin1234 @wettomatodude @lothloriien @annkdarar @artsywaterlily @hmmm-what-am-i-doing @drowingintheempty @estethell @claraofthepen @kilielweek

First Next Masterlist

Warnings: none, it’s pure fluff. Unless Kili being cheeky counts as a warning...

Summary: Kili and Tauriel share a late night picnic, a carefully made gift, a kiss under the moonlight, and a promise.

It starts off as a simple sketch of a bow on the corner of a piece of parchment. Kili is no great artist, but he knows his projectile weapons, and he stares at this little sketch for a long while, just thinking. Then, he goes to inspect the woodworker’s guild. It starts on a whim, a fine stave of yew laying set aside for some project. He picks it up absently, turning it over in his hands.

“A fine choice in wood there, Your Highness!” one of the guilddwarrow says.

“Yew, is it not?” he queries idly.

“Aye! And a fine specimen! Fine bows are made of that wood, but being an archer I suppose you already know that.”

Kili nods. “I do. Say, is anyone using this stave?”

“I don’t believe so, sir, but what do you mean to do with it, begging your pardon?”

“I know someone who needs a new bow,” he says. “Hers was broken.”

“Broken? Ah, mighty bad luck, having your primary weapon break.”

“Aye, mighty bad luck indeed.”

The following weeks are filled with rough drafts, mock ups, practice carvings, and an obscene amount of frustration. Somewhere along the way, this bow doesn’t become just a bow, but a courting gift -- and that means it must be perfect. Because she is perfect. He finally settles on a simple recurve bow, short but powerful, made for tight spaces and quick draws, perfect for the flexible yew. After deciding on the type of bow, and sketching up the shape, he heads out into the woods to find arrows. He decides on pine, and harvests a good amount of straight, light shafts, then heads to where the animals are kept within Erebor to hunt down some fletching. A butcher has just slaughtered several turkeys, and it is simple enough for Kili to purchase the tail and wing feathers. “Making arrows, Your Highness?” The butcher guesses, spying the pine shafts strapped to Kili’s back. He nods.

“Aye. My quiver is running a bit low.”

“Ah, it happens. Glad to be of service to you, and fine feathers these are, too!”

“The finest,” Kili grins, admiring the barred black and white feathers. “I wouldn’t go for anything less. Say, next time you butcher an ox, let me know, I am in need of a new bowstring.”

The butcher agrees readily, happy to be of service to the prince, and Kili leaves walking on air.

Back in his workshop, Kili drafts up several designs for arrowheads and the final curve he wants for the bow, and then gets to work. Although driven and determined, he knows he must work slowly and carefully, for woodworking is not his craft.

It takes him the better part of a month to make the bow. Then, he can move onto his other gift: courting beads. He's been thinking carefully about not only what material he wants to make them out of, but also what shape. When he finds a fist-sized fire opal while sorting through the treasury, he has the most perfect idea. Thankfully, jewelling is his craft.

Tauriel has taken up permanent residence in Dale, ending up as leader of the city's guard, and the ragtag but earnest group of former fishermen fall into line quickly under her stern command. The sun is just beginning to set and the evening autumn air is crisp and inviting when she returns home. As she nears her house, she sees a person standing on her doorstep, too short to be a man and too broad to be a child. "Kili?"

He turns, the golden light bathing his face, and his grin stuns her a bit with its wideness. "Hullo, amrâlimê !" He says, coming towards her. He takes her hand with all the grace of the prince he is and places a chaste kiss on the back of it.

"You are being silly," she informs him. He grins wider.

"Perhaps."

She huffs a little and brushes past him to enter her house, and he saunters in after her with all the airs of owning the place. "Why are you here, Kili?"

Although she pretends she isn't bothered by the fact that it has been nearly a month since she saw him last, truthfully, it is bothering her. Immensely.

“I’m here to ask if you’d like to go on a bit of a jaunt with me,” he replies. She turns and gapes at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“A picnic, to be precise. I’ve a basket all set up, some lovely dwarven wine… I’ve pulled out all the stops, Tauriel, you can hardly say no.”

She splutters a bit. “It's almost sundown!"

"It's not like you can't have picnics at night. C'mon, it'll be fun!"

It's not that she doesn't want to go, it's just that the whole thing is so sudden. "I… I’ve just come back from guard duty! I’m in my armor!”

“I am aware,” he replies blithely. “I can wait until you change into something more comfortable.” He glances at her appreciatively. “Or you can stay in that. I wouldn’t be bothered.”

Tauriel sighs. There’s really no getting out of this one (not that she especially wants to, anyway). “Give me a moment.”

Kili sits down at her kitchen table. “Take your time, amrâlimê.”

Tauriel hurries up the stairs and into her bedroom, setting aside her bow (her third, the other two having snapped from her elvish strength) and arrows, and casting off her armor with hands that are almost trembling with excitement. She throws open her wardrobe doors… and stops. What does one wear on a nighttime picnic? A dress? She hardly has anything suitable, mostly trousers and tunics populate her wardrobe. She spends a bit wavering between clothes before deciding on something simple. It’s not like they’re courting or anything.

She retrieves her cloak and hurries back out to Kili, who greets her with a grin when he sees her.

“Ready?” he asks, and she nods.

They ride out to the eastern shores of Long Lake, Tauriel on her horse Aearon, and Kili on his sturdy pony, Granite. The water is glassy smooth before them as they stop their mounts at the last bit of grass and dismount. Kili hands Granite's reins to Tauriel and begins unbuckling his saddle bag, maneuvering his body between his mount and her as if he's trying to hide something.

"Go find a good spot on the sand," he says, "and start a fire." He hands her a tinderbox and takes back the reins. "I'll bring the food and rub down the ponies."

She doesn't bother to tell him Aearon is hardly a pony, just takes the tinderbox and heads toward the shore, kicking her boots off at the edge and heading barefoot on to the cool sand. Kili looks after her, admiring the way the sunlight turns her hair to flame. Granite nudges his arm, drawing him back to reality, and he scratches her forehead, sliding off her bridle. “Sorry, girl. I got distracted.” His pony ruffles her mane and ducks her head to snatch up a few mouthfuls of grass. “D’you think she’ll like it?” he asks her. She ignores him.

Aearon, however, peers at him out of one eye, rather like he thinks Kili is entirely ridiculous. Kili stares right back, raising an eyebrow challengingly, and gets back to untacking them both. He sets the saddles near a tree and hoists his saddlebags to his shoulder, making sure the gift is well hidden.

Tauriel is waiting for him on the sand, next to a small but slowly growing fire and a pile of driftwood. Kili drops the saddlebags and pulls out a blanket. "Help me spread this out, won't you?"

She moves to help him. “Is there a reason you dragged me all the way out here?” She asks.

“I told you,” he replies, kicking his boots off at the edge of the blanket and sitting down on the soft wool. “A picnic.” He pats the space next to him with a smile of invitation and drags one of the saddle bags towards him.

She sits gracefully, wiggling her bare toes under the sand. At first, their conversation is a little stilted, but as time passes, the tension eases.

“Isn’t that cold?” he asks with a laugh, unpacking food and setting up a spit over the fire. She shrugs.

“A little. I like the way it feels.”

Kili laughs again and she smiles at him.

“Are you doing the cooking?” She asks.

“Aye, unless you’d like to help.”

“I can’t,” she says. He stares at her, midway through spitting the chicken he brought, already pre seasoned.

“What?”

“I can’t cook.”

“What do you mean you can’t cook?”

“Well, I’ve never really had to. Back in Mirkwood, my meals would be prepared for me. For all of the guard, actually.”

Kili balances the chicken on the spit. “Well, what did you do when you couldn’t get back in time for meals? Or when you were on a trip? Or when you were gone these past few years? Did you just not eat?”

“Of course I ate!” She replies. “I’d eat lembas!”

He gives her a quizzical look. “Lembath?”

“Lembas,” she laughs. “Elvish waybread. It lasts for ages and even one bite can fill your stomach. It’s the perfect travel food. I had a supply with me when I left Mirkwood, and it kept until I left Erebor. I restocked in Rivendell, and again in Lothlorien.”

“Oh. I see.” He looks into the flames for a moment, then says, “Tell me of your travels, Tauriel.”

She peers over at him, at the firelight bathing his face in the after sundown, before moonrise darkness, and frowns. She would think he wouldn’t want to hear of it, of how she abandoned him, but… she nods slowly and begins her tale. Kili listens closely as he tends to the food cooking. Whenever he looks up to watch her, he is enchanted by her bright eyes and dancing hands. There’s something different about her, he realizes. He hadn’t noticed it until tonight. When she had first come back he hadn’t been able to think about anything but how happy he was to see her again, and in the past month he’d been too preoccupied with his gift to notice.

“Tauriel,” he starts, interrupting her story. She pauses midway through telling him about the plains of Rohan and looks down at him expectantly.

“Yes?”

“Why did you leave?”

She bites her bottom lip.

“Was it because of me?”

“No! Oh, Kili, no!” She crawls over and takes his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. “It was nothing you did! I just… I needed to figure something out.”

He looks down at their joined hands and then up into her green eyes. “What did you need to figure out?”

“I wanted to find out who I was outside of what I’ve always known. I’ve always been Tauriel, Captain of the Mirkwood Guard… But, Mirkwood isn’t my home anymore. That’s not who I am anymore. I needed to find out who Just Tauriel was, outside of duty.”

“Did you find out?” he asks gently.

“I believe so.”

“You seem different.”

Concern flits over her face. “Different? A bad different or a good different?”

“Good different. Definitely good different. You seem… I don’t know, more at peace with yourself.” He slips his fingers through hers. “I like it.”

“I’m glad,” she whispers.

“If that’s why you left,” he asks, “why did you come back? I would think living here on the edge of the forest would be painful.”

She looks down at him with a smile. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I would miss you.”

“I did,” He replies. “I missed you so badly I dreamed of you at night.”

She blinks at him, and then her cheeks flush pink. “I… I…”

“Tauriel? Is something wrong?”

“It’s just… I dreamed of you, too.”

“Nightmares of me dying?” He asks cynically. She nods, and he sighs. “Thought so.”

“Not all of them though,” She murmurs, looking away from him. “Many of them were pleasant. I mean… oh my, look at the moon!”

Kili looks over the horizon to see the moon rising over the lake, huge and red. A firemoon. Tauriel stands and walks to the edge of the water, gazing up at it with wide eyes. Kili watches her, framed by the moon, her hair cascading down her back in a stream of molten gold. This is as good a time as ever.

“Tauriel.”

She looks down to see Kili standing at her side, something behind his back. “Isn’t it lovely?” She says, gesturing to the moon.

“It is. Almost as lovely as you.”

A blush once again flares over her cheeks, visible even in the dark. “You flatter me.”

“I mean it,” He says sincerely. “I know I’ve been rather absent the past month, but the truth is, I’ve been working on something. For you.” From behind his back, he takes whatever he had been hiding and holds it out to her. Whatever it is, it is wrapped in a cloth, which she carefully peels back to reveal the most beautiful bow, quiver, and set of arrows she has ever seen.

“Oh my…”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

He hands it to her. “Try it out. See how it feels.”

She takes it almost hesitantly, stringing it with the bowstring he provides, and carefully nocks an arrow. It bends with ease, but there is no hint of any possible breakage. She aims at a tree several paces away and releases. The arrow flies true into its target. Tauriel lowers the bow, unable to keep the grin off her face, and admires the green leather grips and the silver inlays, the iron tipped arrows, the barred fletching… it’s designed and made with love and care.

"This is a lovely bow," she says. He beams at her. "But, Kili, you must know, I can't keep this! You worked so hard on it!"

His smile doesn't fall. "I don't think you're understanding, amrâlimê," he says. "I made it for you. It's a courting gift."

"A cour…" she stares at him, eyes wide. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious! Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"W-well, I don't know, I… I just… oh my stars!"

Kili takes her hand. "That's not the only thing I have for you." Gently, he turns her hand over and opens her fingers, placing a small silken bag on her palm. "I wanted to make this official. These are for you. Well, us. They're courting beads."

He lets go of her hand and steps back, looking at her expectantly. Tauriel hesitates for a moment. Dwarven courting is completely alien to her. Finally, she sets down the bow and sits down on the sand, patting the space beside her. Kili sits down eagerly and grins at her, nodding a little. "Go ahead! Open it! I actually got to use my Craft for this gift."

Tauriel smiles at his eagerness and carefully opens the pouch, emptying the contents into her palm. It's a pair of beads, just as Kili said, made out of some strange shimmering jewel, shot through with all sorts of colors: blue and orange and green and red and purple, and carved in the shape of a crescent moon. Tauriel can't stop the gasp that escapes her.

"Oh, Kili," she breathes.

He scoots closer to her and reaches over her arm, lifting one of the beads. It shimmers in the moonlight. "We call these fire opals. They're notoriously hard to work with. But the colors… they…"

"They're stunning," she says earnestly.

"They're supposed to represent the fire moon," he murmurs, looking up at her, the red moon reflecting in his dark eyes, in a way that makes him so beautiful that her breath catches in her throat. "Back in Mirkwood, I promised I'd show you a fire moon someday, did I not?"

"You did," she breathes. "You have. Three times over." She means not only the moon above them, but the two tiny ones nestled in her palm. He smiles up at her.

“So, do you accept my suit?”

She wavers for a moment, unsure, self doubt creeping in. Not only is he a prince, he is a dwarf, and there is a very, very good chance their love is doomed. But then she sees his hopeful face and bright eyes, and the fear evaporates like dew on a summer morning. "I do," she murmurs.

Kili beams so wide it's blinding. "Then may I braid your hair?" She bends slightly so her hair pools in his lap.

"You may."

The braid he weaves is beautiful, the beads glimmering at the end of it. She’s distracted from admiring it when he cups her face in his hand and draws her face down near his. “May I kiss you?” he asks softly. She nods, sliding her hand behind his head and drawing his face close to hers.

“This won’t be easy,” he whispers when they part. “Tensions in the Mountain are still high. Very few will accept this, and even less will be happy for us.”

“I know,” she says. “But I’m willing to fight for us.”

“So no more running?”

“No more running.”

She presses her forehead to his. “Kili, there’s one thing I never understood. Why did you never come after me?”

“I thought about it,” he admits, “especially on nights when resisting the goldsickness got too much, or when the pressure of my duties felt like it was crushing me, I would be just minutes away from packing up and running after you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs. “Because every time I almost did, I’d dream of you that night. That would help. It was like you were still with me. And besides, I couldn’t leave my brother, he had it worse.”

“You’re a good brother.” She touches his cheek and kisses him again. “I admire that about you.”

“You do?”

“I do.” She smiles. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I have no idea, I am very admirable, after all.”

Tauriel laughs and shoves him so he flops backward. “Don’t be cocky, Kili.”

He grabs her arm and pulls her with him, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her tenderly. “But you love me anyway.”

“I do,” she says, and kisses him back.

#kiliel #kiliel week #kilielweek #kiliel week 2021 #kilielweek2021 #kili #tauriel #the hobbit #fanfic #my writing #the hobbit fanfic

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antihero-writings · 3 years

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In the Temple of Dust

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda (Breath of the Wild)

Character Focus: Link

Summary: After Link completes all the shrines, even though he's stronger than he's ever been...he still isn't sure he can be the hero everyone expects him to be. So some old friends try to cheer him up. Or...maybe they're more than just friends.

Notes: I've been playing Breath of the Wild for the first time lately, so when Tale Foundry's prompt this week ended up being "In the City of Dust" that's immediately where my mind went to, haha! I had to get the BotW fic idea out of my system first. I've also wanted to write a BotW fic since starting, and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity!

This was also a bit inspired by a couple youtube videos: Zeltik's video on the Forgotten Temple potentially being Skyloft, and the Deathly Loneliness Attacks amv.

Please note that I have a very limited knowledge of the Zelda series as a whole (and I have actually not reached this point in my game yet)...so please forgive me if there were any inaccuracies! I tried my best, and I hope it was cool!

I hope you enjoy it! If you do, please consider reblogging, and/or leaving a comment!!

In the Temple of Dust

The hero took a look behind him at the crumbling columns and moss covered stones, the tree breaking out of the wall, and the now destroyed guardians lying among the ruins like the rest, a great sigh of this place, the last things alive silenced.

This whole place felt like a memory, long buried. What once must have been a grand temple now home to skeletons and monsters…and sometimes creatures that were both

He wished he remembered.

He turned forward and made his way to the foot of the goddess, where three chests sat waiting.

As his steps sounded, he heard the faint notes of music. Something like an ocarina. He looked around for the lone player, but there was nothing, no ghosts nor memory. Just, imagination or hallucination.

Did he know this place somewhere, sometime? Now it was nothing more than forgotten; forgotten by more than him alone, enough that that was a part of its name.

The goddess smiled down upon him from her place on high, the statue here taller than any of the others he’d seen, like the people who once lived here were closer to her than anyone else.

He bowed his head to say an extra thanks for good measure.

As he knelt down before the chests, and reached out to open one, his throat held his heart.

This was it. This was the reward of more than a hundred shrines worth of work. The worth of the weight of the world. Surely this would be far more than an ordinary weapon or arrow. This would be the treasure of ages.

It clicked, and he raised the lid. Sitting in the belly of the treasure chest was a green tunic.

He paused a moment to look at it quizzically, before gently reaching in and pulling it out, observing the craftsmanship, the design…trying not to feel disappointed. He wouldn’t have thought the armor of ages would be so plain. But he shouldn’t judge it for looks alone. Surely it was very valuable.

He lay it across his leg and moved on to the next chest. This was a pair of pants to go with the tunic, and the final, a hat, something like a nightcap.

Before he let disappointment overtake him, he decided to put them on. Surely he’d feel something when he did—stronger maybe? They had to be special, important, powerful. They couldn’t be anything less.

But when he put them on, he didn’t feel any stronger, any braver, any better equipped for life’s trials.

He looked at his reflection in a rusty shield in a last ditch attempt to unearth some sort of memory from his subconscious, but only more memoryless mind remained.

The echo of a hero. That’s what he always saw. Echo of a voice laid to rest a hundred years ago. A simple green tunic, without any special abilities, wouldn’t change that.

His face twisted as he groaned, pulling his sword from his back, and swinging it angrily at the air before shoving it into the ground, the sword that seals the darkness merely a stake in the mud, a monument to a lost cause.

He thought this sword would prove his worth, to others as well as himself. When that didn’t work, he thought completing all the shrines would give him answers, make him feel like the hero they all said he was. And though he was stronger than ever, it seemed the emptiness was deeper than that.

He sat on the edge of the staircase.

“Aren’t heroes supposed to have some special powers or something?” he scoffed to the empty air, leaning back against the staircase. “Or at least a sidekick? A memory to their name?” a pause. “I’m sorry I just...” A whisper: “I don’t know if I can save Hyrule after all.”

“What are you talking about?” He started at the sound of a child’s laugh…though the voice sounded oddly distant.

As he reached for the sword he found the speaker was resting his arms casually on the sword. He was indeed a child, but one that looked…oddly similar to himself. Not to mention, well…half transparent.

“You’ve had many powers over the centuries. ” He almost jumped as he saw another version of himself.

“I could control the wind! ” Another raised his hand, this one a child too, even younger than the first.

“I could walk on walls, and between worlds.” If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the painting on the far wall that spoke—he was sure it hadn’t been there before.

“I could become whatever I wanted to be, through the power of putting on a mask, ” said one leaning against the shrine, hiding his face.

“I could control time, ” said the original speaker.

“But that doesn’t make you a hero.” A wolf with strange markings walked in silently, and spoke seemingly with his thoughts.

“Can’t…Can’t you take me back to her then?” the hero asked the ghost of the first speaker. “Before all this started?”

He’d seen more than one ghost before—they even gave power to him. He knew there were enough strange things about this world to be all too fazed by this sight. Besides, perhaps it was just a dream after all. Best enjoy it while it lasts, rather than waste time being freaked out.

The child smiled. “Time was my game. This... ” he backed up, lifting his hands to gesture around him. “This is yours. ”

“What is?”

“Why this world, of course! ”

“It’s so wide, ” the shadowed one spoke.

“You’re freer than you’ve ever been,” said the wolf

“I guess…”

“What’s wrong? ”

“I mean, sure I’ve defeated monsters, and helped some people, and succeeded at the trials but—! What’s that matter if I don’t remember anything? I just…I don’t feel like the hero they all want me to be.”

“Do you think any of us felt like a hero? All we did was go around defeating monsters. ”

“And go on adventures! ” The wind one said, and they chuckled in reply.

“Did you ever consider that maybe being a hero was about more than that?” the time one spoke. “About something in here?" He touched his heart, (though the hero couldn’t feel his fingers).

“And he doesn’t mean the spirit orbs!” the wind one called, and the others laughed.

“You already have it in you.” He held out the sword to him. “I promise.”

“...Does…” He took the sword, observing his reflection in the metal. “Does it have to be this lonely?

“What are you talking about?”

Another version walked out, one who perhaps looked more like himself than the rest, and for a brief moment this place was a city in the clouds. This one’s eyes flicked briefly to the sword before saying,

“You’ve never been alone.”

Link looked around at all the ghosts, seemingly of his past selves, who all smiled in turn, and finally noticed they were all wearing the green tunic. The same one he got from the chests, now placed on his own.

“Now go kick Ganon’s butt!” The wind one put a fist in the air.

More laughter, even a few cheers, and Link smiled, rubbing the back of his neck as he replied.

“Well…I suppose I can at least try.”

The world breathed, and he shut his eyes against the wind. When he opened them again, they were gone.

The scene was a strange one to be sure, and he’d never profess to understand it. He still wasn’t quite sure he’d ever feel like the hero they all expected him to be. But as Link picked up the Master Sword, and walked back out in the world, the words of ghosts and lost memory ringing real in his head, he felt, at the very least, more like a hero than he did yesterday.

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craftypeaceturtle · 3 years

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I want to start this off with saying that Virgil being Anxiety always struck me with being weird and not really fitting in with the others. My explanations for this has changed over the millions of years I have totally been in this fandom so maybe I’ll change my mind again but hey ho! This is that one idea I have currently that I just can’t seem to write.

I like the idea of it starting off with Janus moving to the light side of the mindscape.

His room is really similar to Patton’s so Pat agrees to help him pack and carry it all over.

They end up finding a bunch of old baby videos and cut to them both watching old videos of a little toddler chaotic Remus.

The fic I started included their first ever video which was during Remus’ second ever Christmas. The darkside was decorated kinda haphazardly and cheaply. The camera is really shaky and was mostly pointed at the floor. Eventually Janus figures out he’s recording and slams the camera upwards to Remus sitting on the floor eating toast.

I really don’t know why I’m fixated on this but just the idea of a little chubby Remus with a strip of toast in his tight little fist and sucking on his fist. Just absolutely destroying that toast really grossly but in that toddler way where they are still somehow cute.

Eventually Janus is like I’ll move the boxes but you can keep watching if you really want.

Patton only watches a few videos before moving away.

Once Janus comes back he asks where was Virgil.

Awkward suspenseful silence.

“It doesn’t matter, can you help me grab this box here?”

Uh oh a mystery is afoot.

Patton helps him move for the rest of the day but he manages to run into Logan as he makes himself a tea as he goes to bed.

Of course he tells him about this and how he’s a little worried how Janus didn’t answer his question.

Logan is obviously like... “Uh you could ask Virgil or Remus himself?”

And Patton is then like “yoU’RE A GENUIS!”

The next day, as he makes breakfast, he asks Virgil very casually what his childhood was like.

Virgil replies quite generically really.

He at first was like... “uh normal?” but once they really start talking then Virgil explains more specific memories like how Janus always made the best pancakes and how there was a really tall tree in the garden he always wanted to climb but he was scared he would get in trouble.

Patton loosens up completely and just presumes that Janus was only awkward since Virgil did leave the dark side. Nothing bad happened in his childhood then!

He then commented whether he liked being brothers with Remus and Virgil looks at him like he’s insane.

“I never really even saw Remus! I think Janus tried to introduce us once but he upset me or something so we never tried again. I think the next time we really saw each other was when Thomas was an adult.”

Weird but maybe that was just their family.

Patton definitely feels better now but also he’s now all nostalgic so he goes to ask Remus about the childhood.

That’s when the mystery is again afoot.

Remus presents THE EXACT SAME MEMORIES. WORD BY WORD.

“I never really even saw Virgil! I think Janus tried to introduce us once but he upset me or something so we never tried again. I think the next time we really saw each other was when Thomas was an adult.”

Patton panics and obviously Remus picks up on this.

Patton tells him that him and Virgil worded things the exact same way and that Janus even raising two kids completely separated while still tucking them goodnight at the exact same time was impossible.

Remus goes all quiet.

“Well, you know how Janus is denial and stuff. He can make you forget memories and fill in the gaps himself. Sometimes he lets you just fill in the blanks yourself but if it’s really bad then he’ll make fake memories. He always swore up and down he would never do that to us. I always knew that was a lie. I just couldn’t figure out what was fake...”

Remus looks so accepting and dejected that Patton swears to get to the bottom of this.

This is kinda where things get fuzzy and I don’t know specifics for how this story will work.

Eventually it’s revealed that after the split, Remus was really really unstable.

Children don’t really have many intrusive thoughts (obviously unless they’ve gone through some trauma).

So Remus’ role was all over the place and he was just really dissociative and behind.

Eventually one day, Remus split apart again.

Intrusive thoughts are defined as thoughts that cause anxiety and, within children, anxiety appears through intrusive thoughts. Anxiety defines intrusive thoughts and Anxiety takes the form of intrusive thoughts. They can’t exist without the other.

So when Remus split again to separate him and Anxiety, Janus just kind of lost it.

Janus has no idea why they split into two since Remus did previously encompass both. Admittedly not well but they managed! He has no idea what changed...

But he tried to take it in stride.

Only now they were both unstable.

Some days he would wake up to two excited children and other days he had one child and then other days they were conjoined twins.

They would finish each other’s sentences and they both couldn’t talk at the same time.

Sometimes Janus would ask a question to Remus and Virgil in another room would answer, but Remus would then think that he answered.

They were just both way too unstable.

They were separated but yet were clearly meant to be one side. Janus eventually started seeing them both as broken. Why would they have separated when that only worsened things.

This continued until Thomas was a teenager (I’m thinking like 14, quite a young teen).

Then Janus put his foot down and separated them in the hopes that they would develop on their own and be more stable.

This ruined them.

They were inconsolable. They could barely pay attention, it worsened every previous symptom and now they couldn’t even have comfort in each other.

Janus broke down too.

He had no idea what to do. They had to develop on their own but this was ripping them apart more. But he couldn’t go back now as they were furious at him for doing this. He sobbed once he came up with his plan.

He put them in denial about their link and planted fake memories of a childhood.

Now they both think that they never knew each other or actively despised each other.

Here’s where I don’t really know about an ending.

I like the idea of ending it here. A horrible ending of knowing they are in denial but it’s for the “better” and it would now cause more harm to let them know.

But I also like the idea of them both realising and remembering and so they become really close all over again.

It leads to fun interactions like “Rem, can you shut up! It’s my time for the braincell!”/ “No I’m in the middle of something here!”

Or maybe the idea that now they’re both stable, they can fuse into one stable side again?

So there it is. For some reason, I just can’t write this out without it being really clunky. Obviously, considering I don’t even know what the ending should be. I feel like this would be a really fun thing to make art or a comic from but I can’t art. And I can’t imagine trying to design a Remus with a dash of Virgil. Like firstly you have to design a baby Remus but then also give him Virgil vibes!

To ramble for a sec, I do have the idea of them dressing like a knight rather than Remus’ usual outfit. That like tunic with a hood fulfils the fantasy side with Remus and the hood being the hiding in clothes aspect with Virgil. Then you could do really funky armour based on Remus’ logo. But again, I can’t even picture what that would look like let alone actually art that.

#rambling #My writing #remus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #Janus Sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #family dark sides #long post

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mycomfortblanket · 4 years

Text

** UPDATED**Taang week 2020!!!

Taang Week 2020

So this is something I started on a few days ago, and I didn’t realize taang week was this week so it’s not finished. But, here is what I have so far!

There is some explicit stuff in here later, so um... yeah.

PS. didnt realize there was a theme going on when I posted this. so yeah. heh.

Aang opened his eyes and immediately shut them again to block against the harsh sun rays that were coming in through the opened window. Keeping them squeezed shut, he rolls over onto his back and stretches his arms above his head, groaning in the process.

He squints his eyes against the morning sun as he began to take in his surroundings. He wasn’t in his designated room in the fire nation palace. The thought should have concerned him, but at the moment, he was too hungover to really care.

He couldn’t believe he had been talked into drinking last night. He had only drunk once before, and it had only been a sip of Fire Nation Wine at Zuko and Katara’s wedding. Toph had given him so much shit the night before about being too high strung and needing to loosen up. Just to appease her and shut her up, he had done one shot, and after that, he really didn’t have the willpower to turn down more of the drink that was helping him have so much fun. Because of how he is feeling now, he will never drink again.

Rubbing his face with his hands, trying to wake himself up a little, he rolled over to his side and bumped into something.

No. Not something. Someone.

Aang’s eyes shot open and he was met with the sight of a mess of black hair, the color of ink, spread out on the pillow and her back. She’s not wearing a shirt as far as he can tell from her bare back, and both of her arms are hidden under the blanket. In the back of his mind, he also realizes that he is not wearing any clothes either. Judging from both, her and his body position, he concludes that he was just wrapped around her back in a very explicit manner. The thought causes Aang to blush when thinking about the possible events that led them to be in that position.

Sitting up on his elbow a little, Aang attempts to get a look at her profile, but it’s mostly covered by hair, so that only her nose is visible.

He flops back onto his back and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, causing little balls of light to dance behind his eyelids. What the hell happened last night???

He remembers going to a bar with Sokka, Suki, and Toph after they had dinner at the Fire Nation palace with Zuko and Katara. Even though the royal couple didn’t feel like going out, the rest of the Gaang wanted to experience true Fire Nation fun.

Aang tries to go through the events of the night, but all he gets is just glimpses of what happened. He sees him and Toph taking shots of Fire Nation Whiskey at the bar while Sokka and Suki were on the dance floor. He sees him and Sokka at the gambling table. Dancing with Toph. Standing outside in the alleyway with Sokka as he throws up. Stumbling back to the hotel with Toph-

As soon as this memory comes to him, the girl next to him rolls over and curls into his side with her head on his chest.

Toph.

He can feel her naked chest against his side and her bare leg thrown over his. He is frozen in shock. If she knew they were in the bed together, naked, she would bend him into oblivion. He can feel his heart pumping hard and fast and know it’s only a matter of time before it wakes her up.

As if on cue, Toph groans and turns her face more into his chest.

“What the hell, Twinkletoes? It’s too fucking early for-” She cuts herself off as she realizes that she is nakedly cuddling Aang. Her whole body goes rigid and together they both jump out of the bed. Toph clutching the bed sheets around her body and Aang holding a pillow in front of his manhood as if it matters- she can’t see it either way.

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?!” Toph screams at him.

“I don’t know! Why are you naked?!” Aang can’t help but look at her body that is covered by the sheet before averting his gaze just above her head. She really had filled out, developed curves; her hips growing a bit wider, her breast becoming fuller, and overall, became stunning. Her long black hair is falling over her shoulder and incredibly tangled.

Aang realizes that he has never seen Toph without her hair in her signature bun. Even when they were on the run as kids, her hair was either matted from sleeping or up in her bun.

“I’m allowed to be naked in my own room! Now get out before I murder you!” Toph screams.

Aang backs up to the door, feeling for the knob behind his back, before yanking it open and slipping into the hallway.

Just as he turns around, he crashes into Sokka. “What the-” he says, steadying Aang before he takes in his naked chest and pillow covering his front and then glancing at the door he just came out of. His eyes grew wide in realization.

“You didn’t!”

“Sokka please-”

“That’s Toph’s room!”

“Sokkaaa…” Aang pleads

“Oh my Spirits! Suki is not going to believe this! You know, I really had 2 gold pieces on you guys holding out a little longer,” Sokka’s voice rises with his unsuppressed glee.

“No! No you can’t tell anyon- wait. What do you mean you had 2 gold pieces riding on this? Were you betting that Toph and I would...” Aang doesn’t even finish the sentence.

“I never thought I would see the day where young Avatar Aang does the walk of shame!” Sokka boasts, completely ignoring his question.

Aang can feel his face heat up at this comment, “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Hoping to end the conversation, Aang pushes past him and to the door down the hall that leads into his own room.

“Yeah, okay! Well, I expect details later!” Sokka yells at him as he closes the door.

Finally alone, he leans against the door and stares into the undisturbed room.

What the hell was wrong with him? Toph??? Did he really sleep with Toph? He walks over to the unslept in bed before plopping down on it and resting his aching head in his hands.

Slowly, it begins to come back to him.

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

“Come on Top, it’s just one song,” Aang laughs as he drags Toph to the dance floor.

“Aang, seriously, I don’t dance!” He completely ignores her. Once they get to the middle of the floor, he turns to face her. He can see doubt and uneasiness playing on her face that is mostly hidden by her bangs.

“Hey, it’s going to be great. Here, we just have to get a little closer, like this,” Aang grabs her hands and pulls her to him. Toph steps forward a little bit, she can feel a slight blush creeping on her face but she is hoping that the cool air will be a good enough excuse. Their drunken state only adds to the fun and the sloppiness of their movements.

Aang places a hand on her waist and pulls her a little closer until their chests brush with every breath they take. “Now, just follow my lead.”

Every step Aang takes, Toph copies until she gets the dance down and is able to do it without waiting for instruction.

A smile begins to pull on her lips and soon laughter is escaping her as Aang spins her and pulls her flush against him. She can feel his chest vibrate with his laughter as well, but the sound of it is lost to the wind.

They dance to a few more fast paced songs before the DJ switches to a slow song with a soft beat. Both of the dancers become still in their movements. Toph begins to let go of Aang’s hand and move away, “Maybe we should sit this one out,” Toph mumbles.

But as she starts to pull her hand away, Aang tightens her grip and doesn’t let go, but gently pulls her back into him. He takes her opposite hand and places it on his shoulder before placing his hand on her lower back.

“Nah, don’t chicken out on me now,” Aang says in a low voice causing Toph to lean into him to make sure she heard him. He pulls her in close, closer than they were when they were dancing to the fast paced music. She knows that her blush is very prominent now and there is no way she can blame it on the alcohol or chill in the air.

She can feel his cheek brush against the side of her head every now and then as they move. A small, content smile graced her lips as she closed her eyes and soaks in the moment. Slowly, without realizing she has done it, she lowers her head and rests against his chest, listening to his strong and beating heart. Fatigue begins to set in as she becomes more and more engulfed in his scent and touch.

Aang didn’t really expect her to go along with him in a slow dance, this was much too intimate for her. But, when she laid her head against his chest, he couldn’t help but grin. He basks in the comfort of having her with him and the intimacy they are sharing. Without thinking, he presses a lingering kiss to the crown of her head.

Immediately, he realizes his mistake as her body grows rigid and she slowly raises her head slowly to ‘look’ at him. He knows she doesn’t realize, but her eyes line up directly to his as if she is really looking at him, stealing the breath from his lungs. Because she doesn’t immediately murder him, his confidence continues to grow with the aid of alcohol coursing through his system.

He reaches a hand up to cup her cheek as he takes in her features. Her skin soft and porcelain like, her milky green eyes that reminds him of a soft jade color, her small nose that leads down to her lips, full and slightly open as if to say something. Ever so slightly, she leans into his hand. Aang wouldn’t have been sure she had actually done that if he wasn’t looking at her so close.

Aang’s eyes stay on Toph’s lips as he leans down and he is sure that she pulls him a little closer by his tunic. He isn’t positive if it’s the alcohol that is fueling this surge of braveness or just his own stupidity and impulsiveness, but his lips barely graze hers, their noses bumping each other, before he fully seals her lips with his own.

They stand there, locked together as people move and dance around them. He can feel the song change to a more fast paced one with a steady beat, but still, they stand there. Toph tilts her head, deepening the kiss a little. Th sensation of his lips against hers warms her to the core and makes her toes curl in

She feels the hand that is cupping her cheek tighten its hold while the other remains on her lower back, still pulling her in. She slides her hand down from his shoulder and rests it over his heart while the other is gripping the back of his neck, making sure he doesn’t pull away. The kiss is so innocent that it short circuits her brain.

Toph hadn’t ever let herself consider the possibility of her and Aang. They had slowly slipped past the friendship stage after Aang and Katara had called off their relationship a year or two after Sozin’s Comet. Katara had moved on with Zuko pretty quickly afterwards and Aang was weirdly okay with it and even congratulated the couple when they announced their courtship. Aang himself grew closer to Toph, the two of them traveling the world, putting down any resistance to the new Fire Lord.

Although her and Aang had slipped past the threshold of friendship and into something more, neither of them had acted on it. It was just something that made itself known in small touches, lingering hugs, and stolen glances. But now, something was happening and it was causing all sorts of chaos to erupt in Toph’s chest.

Toph had kept expecting Aang to eventually leave Toph behind, dump her at her parents or something, so she never let herself entertain the thought that he would want more.

Someone bumped into Aang, causing him to stumble onto Toph causing their lips to pull apart. Aang scanned her face, looking for any sign of discomfort or anger while Toph kept her hand on his heart, feeling for any sign or regret. Completely engulfed in their bubble, everything and everyone in the room fades to the background as they stare at each other.

“Aang, Hey! We gotta go!” they hear Suki yell for them. Both of them pull apart with embarrassment staining their cheeks, but Aang’s hand slips down and grips Toph’s, not willing to let her go just yet.

Gently, he begins to pull her after him as he walks off the dance floor and towards their friend. “Hey, Sokka is plastered and outside puking his guts out.” Suki says, jerking a thumb towards the exit. Aang nods and starts to walk outside, Toph trailing after him, her hand still in his.

��Hey, we need to get our coats, Toph come help me,” Suki says

“What? Why do I gotta help?” Toph says annoyed

“Because. Now come on!”

Toph casts one last glance at Aang before she gets dragged off to the Coat Check In. Not knowing what else to do, Aang heads outside and finds Sokka leaning against the wall of the bar holding his stomach.

“You good?” Aang asks, his breath coming out in a cloud.

“No. I keep puking. You’d think that nothing would be left in my stomach by now.” Sokka says miserably.

“As much as you eat, there won’t ever be an end to it,” Aang says laughing. A groan comes from Sokka's mouth as he bends over and throws up again. Aang grimaces and pats his friend on the back. Once finished, Sokka leans back against the wall and wipes his mouth just as the girls round the corner. His eyes immediately go to Toph and sees that her entire face is pink in what he thinks is embarrassment, and Suki has a wide smile on her face. They hand the guys their jackets and step back to avoid the vomit on the ground but don’t say anything about Sokka’s vomit or whatever they were talking about.

Finally ready to go, Suki loops her arm through Sokka’s who leans heavily against her, and begins walking towards the palace, not waiting for Toph or Aang to follow. Toph walks quietly beside Aang with little distance between them which gets smaller and smaller as they go until their shoulders are brushing against the other with every step.

As they walk, Toph’s feet become more and more numb with the cold and soon, she can barely see the vibrations because of her lack of feeling in them. When she stumbles on a dip in the pavement, Aang takes notice.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just hard to see since my feet are so fucking cold,” Toph says while wiping her nose with the sleeve of her coat.

Taking a look at Toph, Aang laughs through his nose before bending his knees and lowering himself slightly, “Here, jump on. You can ride me till we get back,”

Toph is stunned for a second, she doesn’t think he realizes what he just said. Her face burns with the implication that is in the sentence that he didn’t mean to put in. Trying to be casual, she faces him and reaches out a hand to feel for his back to get into position behind him.

Toph jumps onto his back, and Aang grabs onto the back of her knees, pulling her closer to him. She wraps her arms around his neck and holds on for dear life. Huffing a little at the complete lack of sight. She tightens her hold on Aang, her thighs gripping his hips a little tighter, she is completely at Aang’s mercy.

Aang notices her tense against him, and he realizes its because of her nervousness at the lack of sight. To try and put her at ease, he rubs his thumb against her leg and begins to walk again. When his thumb brushes the inside of her thigh, Toph tightens her arms around his neck and he can feel her breath against his neck stutter a little.

The slight feeling of his thumb rubbing circles mixed with the firm grip on her legs sends a shiver down her spine. Having him this close to her, especially between her thighs, even if he is facing the wrong way, is making a heat pool in her belly.

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

When he walks into the dining room, he notices that everyone is there. Well everyone besides Toph, which he breathes a sigh of relief after noticing.

He trudges over and sinks into the chair next to Katara and puts his head in his hands, massaging his temples. Zuko, who was sitting at the head of the table next to Katara, was talking to Sokka about some trade deals he was planning on making with the Southern Water tribe and wanted his input.

“So, did you guys have a good night?” Katara asks Aang while buttering a roll.

Holding back a groan he says lowly, “Yeah. it was nice. Really helped me relax.” Aang looks up to see Sokka grinning at him.

Aang’s eyes widened and he shook his head subtly trying to get him to not say anything. But, being the person he is, he just couldn’t let it go.

“Oh yeah. Toph really helped Aang relax. Never thought it would have happened,” Sokka says with a mischievous grin on his face before taking a bite out of his eggs. Suki snickers behind her hand before stifling it behind her cup.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe the amount of fun they had last night,” Suki says when she sets her cup down. Sokka lets out a cackle of laughter at Suki’s comment and leans back in his chair, throwing an arm over Suki’s.

Katara just shoots them a confused look before shaking her head and commenting how good it was that Aang was finally relaxing.

A servant placed his plate in front of him as Toph walked into the room, her hair back in its bun. She makes her way over and sits in the only available seat left, the one next to Aang. Katara and Zuko say their normal good mornings to her.

“You tired, Toph? Looks like you didn’t get any sleep, must have been a wild night for you” Sokka says, shooting a shit eating grin her way.

Toph picks up on the implied comment and pushes her foot more firmly on the ground, sending a rock into his knee hard enough to leave a bruise.

“OUCH! What the fuc-” Sokka says, looking under the table.

“I actually slept fine last night, Sokka. Thanks for asking.”

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

What seems like an hour goes by but is probably only 20 minutes, before she hears the echo of his footsteps on marble, signaling that they are inside the palace. Aang eventually stops, and sets Toph down.. As soon as her feet make contact with the ground, she knows that they are directly outside her room, the door still closed.

“So…” Aang starts but before he can even get out another word, Toph has pushed up on her toes and fisted her hands in his robes, pulling him down to her, immediately pressing her lips to his, kissing him fiercely.

Although shocked by her actions, Aang is immediately kissing her back, grabbing her face in his haste to keep his lips near hers. Toph lets out a sigh when she feels Aang’s lips part her own and his tongue beginning to explore her mouth. This kiss is so much more than the one they shared at the dance hall. Where that one was soft and slow, this one was heated and fast.

This kiss was a mix of fevered lips, tongue, and breathy moans. Aang backed Toph up roughly against the door that led into her room. His hands seemed to be everywhere, leaving a burning path in their wake. Toph wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing herself closer to him. Aang’s hand left her face and began running down her sides, smoothing down her curves before gripping her hips, his nails biting into her skin.

Aang moves his lips and nipped at Toph's neck, eliciting a moan from her lips. The bite was sure to leave a bruise occurred to Toph as he soothed the bite over with his tongue.

She moans out his name and the sting from his bite. Not Twinkle Toes, but his actual name. The sound of his name coming off her lips in a breathy moan sends blood straight to his hard member.

Toph had never known Aang to be anything but gentle, but this dominant version of himself was a pleasant surprise. A darker part of her wanted him this way, wanted him to leave his mark on her, to feel his touch the next day.

Aang dragged his tongue along her throat up before reclaiming her lips with his own. Spirits, he could kiss. Where he learned to use his mouth like that was beyond her. The thought of other things he could do with his mouth made her groan into the kiss.

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

Breakfast seemed to never end with Sokka’s vaguely hinted comments and the awkwardness that could be felt between Aang and Toph. Aang was the first to leave the dining room. he wandered the halls of the palace, not really knowing where he was going, just not wanting to sit still or have to speak to anyone, especially about last night.

He thinks about the way Toph reacted to finding him in her bed this morning. He couldn’t read her reaction properly, was she disgusted or just shocked? After dancing around each other for so long, he finally thought they were getting somewhere.

Maybe he had been reading those interactions between the two of them wrong. Maybe he was reading too much into situations that had happened between them over the past two years. Maybe he was imagining the lingering touches, the way they sometimes sat too close together, or that one time, they fell asleep together beside the campfire, and she was against his back, holding on to him for dear life.

Aang shakes his head. No, there was no way what he was feeling was one sided. Sure, he had initiated most of these advances but sometimes, she would do little things. Things no one else would know were sentimental unless they knew Toph. Like sitting directly beside him at the campfire or actively seeking him out to tell her stories about the past air benders.

He eventually came to a room with shelves filled with books lined the walls. A little further in the room, there seemed to be tables and then beyond that, more rows of shelves. Aang was slightly surprised that there would be a library in the palace, but then he thought, why wouldn't a palace have a library?

Aang just stands there for a moment, staring into the library without really thinking much.

“So, are we going to talk?”

Aang jumped, not expecting Toph to be standing beside him. He thought she would be avoiding him just as much as he was avoiding her, and especially didn’t think she would want to talk about what happened last night.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, let’s go back there.” Realizing that he isn’t going to be able to avoid this like he would like, Aang points to the corner of the library that is hidden behind the shelves. Remembering that she can’t see where he is pointing, he grabs her hand and leads her.

When they get to the back corner, Aang is surprised to seat over-stuff chairs and benches decorating the dimly lit area.

Toph throws herself down onto one of the chairs, and Aang takes the one directly across from her, but perches on the edge of the seat, clasping his hands in between his knees. He stares at her, flashes of her naked form covered by a thin sheet go through his mind. Aang shakes his head, ridding his mind of those thoughts. He needed to be level headed since what they were about to talk about was serious.

“So, talk.” Toph says, chewing at one of her fingernails.

Aang’s mouth falls open slightly, “You’re the one that suggested we talk!” he says, exasperated.

“You're the one who was naked in my bed!”

“You were naked, too!”

Toph didn’t say anything to this, just continued biting at her nail refusing to look in his direction. Aang’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “I mean, it was only a matter of time before…”

At this, Toph shoots up to her feet, “Excuse me, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” she yells, her voice dripping with venom.

Aang stands up to, his blood boiling at the thought of her denying what had been blooming between the two of them the past couple years. “Don’t even try to pretend what happened last night didn’t mean anything to you.”

“It didn’t!”

“Bullshit, Toph! I know you can feel what has been happening between us, I could see it on your face every time we touched,” he spits out. Toph doesn’t say anything to this, just adverts her unseeing eyes away from him. He can see her clenching and unclenching her teeth.

They need to get through this, they need to have it all out in the open. He is tired of not being able to touch her when he wants or to hold her. He wants to brush her hair out of her face and to throw an arm around her waist when the urge hits him.

Aang steps closer to her and reaches for her hand and says more softly, “Tell me it didn’t mean anything to you. Tell me I’ve been imagining the small touches and subtle comments for the past two years.”

Toph shakes her head just barely, “Aang-”

He moves even closer to her, until they are just a few inches apart. He dips his head down until their lips are almost touching, his breath ghosting over her lips.

“Tell me and I’ll stop.” He tilts her face up with his thumb and index finger on her chin. Aang’s eyes search her face before falling on her lips.

“I can’t,” Toph says, her voice barely a whisper.

Aang smiles and closes the distance between them.

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

A new sensation broke through the haze of arousal: the vibrations of someone walking down the hallways towards them. They are still far enough away that they can't see Aang pressing Toph up against the door, but they were getting closer by the second.

Toph reluctantly broke the kiss and moved her head away. Aang, being denied access to her lips, began to kiss a line from her cheek to her jaw and down her neck.

"Aang-" She whimpered, her voice barely a whisper. She didn't think he heard her since he continued the assult on her neck. "Aang, someone is coming. They're going to see us," she tried again.

Aang grunted in acknowledgement before he bent slightly to grip around her thighs and lifted her. Toph let loose a girlish squeal-type noise, something she never thought would come from her mouth, and immediately wrapped her legs around his waist. Aang's hands moved from gripping her thighs to her ass so he could hold her up better.

His lips never left hers as Toph reached behind her and fumbled to open the door. Once through the door, Aang closed it with his foot before walking over to the bed and dumping her unceremoniously on the bed.

They both finally got a look at each other, Aang standing beside the bed, the moonlight streaming in from her open windows, and Toph, whose feet were still on the ground, looked up to where she thought his face might have been.

Aang could see her kiss-swollen lips and blush that spread down her neck and across her slightly exposed cleavage. Strands of black hair are falling out of her bun and down her shoulders in trendils.

Toph could sense his heartbeat, beating faster than she's ever noticed. She can tell that he is just staring at her, taking in her disarray state. She can feel her hair falling out of its bun and her shirt has shifted so that its showing more of her chest than normal.

The hesitation only lasts for a fraction of a second before Toph is pulling him down by the front of his robes at the same time as Aang leaning forward to push her back onto the bed. He slipped his hand underneath her tunic, feeling the heated skin there. He gripped her waist with both hands before shifting her up higher onto the bed so that her head was caressed by the pillows and Aang was resting between her legs.

Afterwards, when they finally stop, Aang is still laying between Toph's legs, rest his head against one of her breasts and his arms wrapped around her middle. Toph trails her fingertips up and down his spine, occasionally brushing over the scar that Azula had given him so long ago.

The air is thick with the smell of sex and the sweat that is drying on their skin. Neither of them talk, but instead, listen to each others heartbeats.

The movement of Toph's fingers on his back become slower and slower until they stop all together and just rest in between his shoulder blades. Her breathing has evened out into long deep breaths with the occasional quiet snore from the back of her throat.

Aang picks his head up and looks at her. Her hair is completely out of its bun, her headband somewhere in the room. He's never seen her hair down before. Not like this. It's incredibly tangled from him constantly running his hands through it and pulling at it.

Her head is turned to the side, exposing her neck, and he can see love bites marking from the base of her neck and down her chest.

The thought of how she is going to cover those enters his mind before he pushes it away. He wants other to see it. He wants everyone to know what they did last night, how he took her roughly.

The memories of the explicit things they did come back to him causing him to blush. They had gone at it for hours, multiple times. Once it was over and they would slump against each other, they would talk about the time that had been passing between them, and somehow, they would start all over again.

Aang crawls off of Toph and lays his head on the pillow next to her. When he has settled next to her, she immediately scooches back until she is pressed fully against him.

Aang wraps an arm around her waist, and presses into her back more firmly, burying his face in her neck, smelling her hair. He would never tell her this, but they fit perfectly together. Her body dips and curves in just the right places that make it seem like she is enveloping his body from behind.

Smiling contently, Aang kisses her shoulder before his head falls back against the pillow. He shuts his eyes, ready for the new day to start and for everything to be out in the open.

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

Hey! So i see you came back for the update!!!. well. thank you. I will be finishing this story so follow it on Archiveofourown.com! The link to this story is here! Thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me. Feel free to comment your constructive criticism or your thoughts/opinions.

#taang week 2020 #taang #toph x aang #aang x toph #avatar the last airbender #atla #aang #toph #sokka #suki #katara #zuko #eventual smut #so beware #uhhh #this is my first writing #so be gentle

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secret-time-is-here · 4 years

Text

Double stitched - Rewrite

Finally did the rewrite :D

A lot of Double stitched is out of date and no longer canon in Dreamswap, so I’ve been wanting to fix it for a while... and now I will :)

Probably A LOT of the series will need some rewriting, better working with Ink, Dream, Blue, Nightmare- all the characters... And Underverse Error espically... because well, I didn’t really get to work too well with the canon of his character at the time-keep in mind I wrote this two years ago and finished the series a year ago-so After a while of thinking I started working on it and I’m super exicted to share it! :)

(For those that don’t remember, this is a little Errorcest, just a random idea of if UnderVerse Error got stuck in DreamSwap, and somehow I made it gay. I chose not to question it myself and just rewrite the story.)

FIXED DOUBLE STITCHED SO THE DREAMSWAP CHARACTERS ARE HUMAN LIKE THEY ARE IN ONEBIZZAREKIA’S CANON

Also, for once, I did do the glitching, and from now on will be trying to pre-write chapter so I can make it more accurate and go over mistakes, as well as do the glitching to make it a little more Error. There is a difference between DS!Error’s and UV!Error’s glitching though, but only slight, just enough so you can tell without me saying it.

Chapter 1

Previous(The original series) - First(Here) - Next

Groaning, the glitched skeleton woke up, body sore from fighting, bones creaking in protest, wanting more rest. Where was he? Last his buzzing mind could remember he was fighting Ink, then the stupid squid teleported him away from the near destruction of the Au they were in. He couldn’t have been teleported far… but his surroundings said otherwise.

Sitting up and looking around, he was in the Anti Void, but it didn’t feel like it. What was that damned place Core brought survivors to-wasn’t that place supposed to look like the Anti Void? This new place felt foreign, his magic somewhere in it, but different elements. More basic, not his destructive magic that came with his title as a god.

How far away was he teleported? The Anti Void was vast, but there’s no way he made it back to where he first entered, way back to when he was only a pathetic Geno variant.

Searching the space, he felt two more presences of magic, one that was near identical to the Cross he knew and another that felt like a toned-down version of Nightmare, the same amount of magic as that little insolent guardian Dream.

Why would Cross, much less someone with the same magic presence as Nightmare, be in the Anti Void?

Quickly, the destroyer opened serval windows, checking on the AUs, confirming if they were all still the same. They weren’t.

A large, near castle-like building with a “JR” logo plastered on its front sign, was in place of Nightmare’s mansion, a god-like human version of Dream judging by the crown, and a pretty normal-looking human Ink talking and possibly looking over the paper’s in the room he checked on.

When did Dream get so tall? Or get wings? His outfit was totally different too. The crown still sat perched on his skull, but he had the tunic he used to wear, just a different color-a plain brown, with a yellow flaming jacket over it. The cuffs and hood of which were fluffy. An odd trinket sat just under the fold of his collar too, what looked like an ovular spiked sun with a red jewel resting in the middle. He was also wearing basic pants and tied shoes, completely different from the normal boots and battle gear that the destroyer was used to seeing. His skin was almond, eyes blood shot with yellow-pupils a darker yellow to stand out, and hair dark blonde. Looking neat and kept, parted off to the side of his head.

Even Ink was different, dull colors instead of the vibrant ones the artist usually had. Dull grays, dirty browns and bronze colored his outfit. The only thing still vibrant about him being the being his colorful expression of boredom and the shiny “JR” pin on his paintless peanut brown scarf. It was weird. A simple black t-shirt, plain brown jacket with dark gray cuffs and hood, coin gray shorts, boring lace-up ankle shoes. Honestly, the only thing that looked the same was the paint stain on his cheek.

Inks skin was reddish golden, darker freckles peaking out from underneath the paint stain and across his face. His eyes were still mismatched, one green and the other orange. His bright blonde hair was shaved on the sides and swooped over to the right, showing off the double gold piercings in his ears. Ash gray tattoos peaked out from underneath his shorts, curling and crawling down his calves with long bold designs. His paint brush had changed as well, barely noticeable from a distance, a long thin pole with a small long tuff of hair at the end, the “JR” pin hanging on as an accessory by some decorated strings.

The different Ink seemed to get fed up with the god-Dream and left the room, flipping the bird and showing off brown fingerless gloves as well.

“MaybE THIs Ink and I cOuLd gET aLOnG...” He chuckled, before moving his attention to the next window he had opened, surprisingly not far from the god-Dream.

Some version of Blueberry was there static and glitching, small white blocks littering his left eye. Just like Dream and Ink, his outfit was different too and he was also human. Instead of a tattered and worn bandana, he wore a long blue scarf, a long-sleeved half blue half spiked white sweater, plain pants, and blue boots. His skin was a pale vanilla, and eyes a light blue, matching well with his light fawn brown hair. Was he stalking the god-Dream?! Jeez, this was definitely not his multiverse.

Abruptly, not minutes after Ink left, Blue got out of his hiding spot and strutted into Dream’s office, the look on the Guardian’s face was priceless. Man, now he wants to see the little baby grandpa in his multiverse have an actually pissed face.

Deciding that the expression was too much, he scouted for any other’s he could recognize, swiftly finding a human Cross and another human that looked like a purple version of the Dream he knew. At least this Cross looked a little less dorky, and less complicated outfit. That ridiculously big hood was gone, and he wore a simple black long sleeved shirt instead of a turtle neck, his scarf still wrapped around his neck but split off into two ends. Instead of X’s being extra accessories, they were actually in the design of the shirt and shorts, the shoes still owning a cross on each, the color changed to a pitch black. Still not a color in sight except the red scar that adorned his cheek and the single red eye that showed Chara was still very active in this world, the other eye grey.

His skin was quite literally white, as pale and plain as the AntiVoid. His hair was white as well, although a little duller, like a drop of grey mixed in with pure white paint. His hair was styled to meet together at the top, he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact it looked like a trimmed bush. Much like the Ink he had seen earlier, this Cross had piercings, a single black circle on the bottom of each earlobe.

“Nightmare!” This multiverse’s Cross yelled to the purple Dream, who innocently poked his head out of what was probably his room, “Did you put dye in my toothpaste?!” The destroyer just had to turn the window around to see- yep, purple-tinted teeth. At least this Nightmare seemed to be somewhat evil.

He couldn’t help but laugh, all the same, he was so… short. A crown similar to Dream’s sat snug on his head parting his bangs and the rest of his hair, but instead of curving in, at the middle sat a plate with a waxing crescent engraved into it. His skin was nearly the same color as the Dream he had seen before, just a tad darker, light purple eyes beaming through the shade of his untidy and mess bangs. This Nightmare also wore a tunic similar to the God-Dreams, but instead of a plain brown, he wore one that was black lined with white that was short-sleeved, and a torn-up purple scarf hung off his shoulders with a waxing crescent pin holding it together. Purple boots decorated his feet in contrast to slippers covered in tarry goo. They were completely different people at least from physical appearance. He had no clue about their personality yet.

Finally, he searched for one person specifically, where was this multiverse’s version of himself? Was he out giddily destroying AUs? Taking souls to add to his collection? Not even close, just being wimpy and knitting together some doll while sitting in a random OuterTale timeline.

Their outfit was terribly plain too, not that he was incredibly good at fashion, but he does have eyelights. Simple short sleeve hoodie, plain boring short scarf, boring red shirt, simple gloves, dark shorts, and high laced boots. His skin was dark like his own bones, this versions dark brown hair pulled back and braided into long dreadlocks.

Changing the window to a portal, he jumped out of the weird Anti Void and landed nearby the other, startling the skeleton some.

“WhO-O...?” They tried to start but was swiftly cut off.

“I gOt sOmE quEsTIOns, buddy.” His glitching voice explained, getting straight to the point, “I dOn’T knOw wHaT muLTIvERsE I’m In, oR hOw ThE HeLl I gOT HeRE.” He continued, noticing that there was another difference, their eyes. This multiverse’s Error not sharing the red back-drop, his left eye yellow, and the right red. Curved red rimmed glasses sitting just in front of them. The tear stains there but altered incredibly, a near electric blue flowing down his cheeks like cracks in glass “BuT I dO knOw THaT yOu’RE an aLTERnaTE vERsIOn Of mE and I nEEd answERs.”

The other Error stared at him, confused, they seemed to both have the glitching and error messages at least.

“Okay…? I guEss? Sit dOwn and I’ll tRy-Ry and hElp yOu, u-uh, OthER… mE?”

“NO fIGhT? JEEz, THIs muLTIvERsE Is wImpy and wEIRd.” The destroyer commented, sitting down a yard or so away from the other, haphephobia making it difficult to sit any closer.

“BEfORE any quEstiOns, wE shOuld pRObably gEt this namE thing sOrtEd, uh-” His alternate spoke, voice not nearly as glitchy as his. Suddenly, the other Error snapped his fingers, “YOu glitch mORE than mE! WE can call yOu Glitch- and I guEss I can gO by…” The other skeleton looked down at his hands, “...StRings.”

“ALrIghT, STrINGs, wHaT’s GOInG On In THIs muLTIvERsE? SO faR, DREam sOmEHOw gOT wInGs, Ink and I cOuLd acTuaLLy GeT aLOnG fOR OncE, BluE Is a sTaLkER and GLiTChy, NiGHTmaRE isn’t cOvEREd In TaR, CROss acTuaLLy sHOws EmOTIOns, and yOu jusT sEEm LIkE a wImpy LEss amazInG vERsIOn Of mE. And EvEryOnE’s Human.”

Strings gave him a confused look, especially on the part of them being humans, mixed with a glare for the comment.

“Can yOu Explain hOw yOuR multivERsE is?” The other Error asked through gritted yellow teeth, another shared trait.

“SuRE? Ink’s an emOTIOnLEss ass, DREam’s a usELEss prOTEcTOR wITH a babyfacE-but sTILL can be an ass and GeT In my way, BluE Is a dETERmInEd paIn In THe ass, NIgHTmaRE’s a smaRT ass, CROss Is aLsO an emOTIOnLEss ass, and Of cOuRsE, I’m awEsOmE and back tO dEsTROyInG AUs afTeR THaT squId bROkE OuR sTupId TRucE.” Glitch said simply, leaning back against the rocks and staring up into space, “In summaRy, EvERyOnE’s an assHoLE THaT GeT’s In my way, buT THe dRama Is beTtER THan UndERNovELa sO I can’T cOmpLaIn tOO much. Plus, wE’RE aLL skELETOns, wHITE bOnEs, ExcEpT fOR mE, and NIGHTmaRE I guEss.”

Strings hummed in reply, not fully happy with the explanation, mainly because of the destroying AUs part, but not wanting to fight at the moment. Leisurely, he started to get back to work on the doll he had started to work on before Glitch randomly appeared.

The destroyer looked over to the other at the sound of needles clicking fast, sitting back up as he watched Strings proficiently and easily knit away at the doll. His hands moving quickly, looping around and pulling more string from his eyes on occasion, method well-practiced.

“HeH,” Glitch let a chuckle escape, “nO maTTeR tHe muLTIvERsE, I can aT LEasT cOunT On OTHeR mE’s knOwInG hOw To knIT.”

“And hERe I thOught I was wimpy and lEss amazing, mR.EgO cOmplEx.” Strings joked sarcastically, smirking all the while. Slightly slowing his pace down to talk easier, he asked: “YOu knit tOO? DEspitE bEing an all-mighty dEstrOyER oR whatEvER?”

“Of cOuRsE I dO! BEsT pasT TImE, asIdE fROm UndERNOvELLa.” He smiled slightly, not used to doing it so carefree, only ever really smiling at the chaotic destruction of an AU.

Time went on like that, just them talking. Finding their few differences but mostly sharing their commonalities. It felt like hours had passed by in the blink of an eye when in reality, they hadn’t been talking for that long. Their conversation was abruptly stopped when a portal opened behind them, two figures running out of it.

“Night? CROss? What are yOu guys dOing hErE?” Strings asked, standing up and running over to his friends, Glitch watching awkwardly from a distance.

“You’ve been gone for hours!” Cross shouted, nearly lurching at strings before stopping himself. Strings, understanding what he was going for, slowly eased into hugging him, “We were worried… if Dream found you...”

“PlEasE, guys, I’m the OnE that busts yOu twO Out. I’m finE.” Strings assured.

Glitch, feeling left out, decided to walk over and get introductions out of the way.

“HEaRTfElt REunIOn, whaTevER, I’m kInda sTuck heRE and fROm a dIffEREnT muLTIvERsE, sO yEaH.” Glitch swiftly interrupted, standing somewhat near the group of housemates or whatever they were. Strings didn’t mention specifically what they were to him.

“SoRRy, GlItch. Night, CROss, this is Glitch- An ErROr fROm a diffEREnt multivERsE.” Strings gestured, not surprised when his counterpart didn’t accept the handshake from Nightmare and instead moved away from it. “Glitch, this is my NightmarE and CROss, my bEst fRiEnds, tEammatEs, annOying hOusEmatEs...”

“Rude.” Cross spoke up, but a small smile appeared with the comment, Strings rolling his eye lights to the stars, Glitch only nodding in acceptance.

“So… uh,” Nightmare tried to converse, “How different is your multiverse?”

Dreamswap, concept and outfits, all belongs to @onebizarrekai

Ink belongs to @comyet

Error belongs to @loverofpiggies

Cross & underverse belong to @jakei95

Blue belongs to the community

Nightmare and Dream belong to the community

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boymeetsweevil · 5 years

Text

Watch Yourself

Grouping: Reader x Hoseok

Word Count: ~7770

Warnings/Themes: Peeping Tom-ish/Voyeurism, Hoseok is a closetexhibitionist, (and apparently so it OC) public sex, fingering, so much boob stuff, penetrative sex, too much talk centered around Hob’s hands, this is basically just pwp guys that second p is questionable

Summary: It starts with an invitation from your ex. It ends with Hoseok’s hands down your pants in said ex’s kitchen.

Part of the Masterlist for Group 2 of the @btssmutclub Summer Project

tagging: @jeoneric @betysotelo18

There is something utterly sad about visiting the tiny local strip mall before 11am on a Saturday. Sadder yet is the fact that you are there by yourself, with no friend in sight. Said friend was supposed to come with you for moral support and to give his valued opinion on the swim wear you were there to buy. But, of course, something had to go wrong. Wonho, your fashion student friend, called you this morning to tell you that he pulled a muscle in his groin at the gym that same day and sent you a Snapchat of him in the campus clinic with an ice pack as proof.

As you pay for your tea for the morning from a small kiosk, you take in the fact that even the old ladies power walking around the floors of the mall and the elementary schoolers running to the arcade have their friends with them. You make a mental note to guilt trip Wonho a little bit when you see him next. Which will probably be at the pool party that necessitated this outing in the first place.

When you started attending your university, you came in with a high school sweetheart of sorts. Your ex had been one of the kindest guys you knew, albeit a little insecure. You thought he’d grow out of it, you were sure of it. But once he got accepted into his frat of choice after much ass-kissing, he changed. You endured it for 3 years too long before finally getting fed up in the middle of fall semester of your senior year. Since then, it had been smooth sailing, but also radio silence on your ex’s end.

It’s now the summer following your graduation and this invitation to his pool party seems to be coming from nowhere. Your friend Irene bluntly suggested it wasn’t because he really wanted you back in his life, but because he wanted to show off his new girlfriend to his old girlfriend. Your other friend, Monica, showed you the new girlfriend’s picture. She was pretty, into horses, and did charity on the weekends.

(1 week prior)

“She seems nice,” you sniffed at the image on Monica’s screen before cutting into your pancakes from your favorite brunch spot. They were a little too thick this time and the force of your cutting shook the little table you were all seated at.

“Her style is a little 2008,” Wonho commented as he scrolled through the pictures on the girl’s account. “I didn’t think people still did the tunic and black cropped leggings thing anymore.”

Irene pinned him with a dirty look. “Lots of people still do that. I do that.”

“Yeah, you do,” he frowned disapprovingly.

You and Monica watched Irene and Wonho bicker about statement belts for a moment before she turned to you abruptly, shoving the phone back in your face like a bad omen.

“You know you have to go to that pool party, right?”

“Uh, yeah. We said we were all thinking of going, right?”

“I mean, maybe. But you specifically need to go.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to show him that you’re onto him and that he made a huge mistake losing you.”

“But I don’t care about him anymore,” you said innocently through a bite of eggs.

‘It’s the principle of the thing,” she sighed. “Your bathing suit has to be amazing, none of this—this,” she waved her hands in the air as if trying to conjure up the right phrase, “monochromatic one-piece mess.”

“What’s wrong with my one-piece?”

“It doesn’t do any favors for your body.”

“Wait a second, I—”

“It’s true,” Wonho turned to you, eyes so serious they make you lose train of thought. “You have a great silhouette and you rarely do it justice.”

“Yeah,” Irene chimed in and gestured to your hoodie, “I’ve been meaning to ask you why you have so many of those...shirts.”

“For comfort, maybe? You guys ever heard of that?”

The three of them blinked owlishly at you before Monica reached out to pat your hand. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll figure this bathing suit thing out.”

You follow the various signs hanging down from the mall ceiling telling you the names of various shops and start browsing.

With your friend’s voices in your head, you try not to rely on your basic instincts too much and instead go to the stores you’ve heard Monica praise or seen Wonho shop at when buying clothes as birthday presents. You pass by one store you know all of your friends would approve of. But it positively reeks of sophistication and trendiness, so you circle the entire floor before eventually after coming back empty from the other stores. This one boutique has dim and flattering lighting and there’s an expensive smelling perfume wafting around the place when you push through the front door.

Instantly you get the urge to turn and walk out. All the other people in the store look like they walked out of fashion catalogs themselves. Even the employees refolding garments and waiting at the cash register are all perfectly proportioned, symmetrical, and statuesque. You thank the universe that you chose a neutral outfit: dark jeans Wonho bought for you after taking your measurements with painstaking care and a plain black tank top to beat the heat.

You consider sending a text to the group chat to ask for help when you enter the swimsuit section, but your pride and stubbornness rule that option out. So you just pick a bunch of swimsuits you think would look good on you and head over to the changing room. The attendant there is organizing the rack of returned garments and has his back to you when you enter the changing room hallway.

“How many items,” the attendant asks.

“It looks like I have 3,” you mutter after counting.

“Be right with you.”

You spend the time he takes to finish grouping items to take in his appearance.The back of his head and his voice are oddly familiar.

“Um, this might be a weird question, but are you Hoseok? Jung Hoseok?”

“I thought that was your voice.” The man in front of you turns and nods, a shy, but brilliant grin creeping onto his face. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you.”

Jung Hoseok had been one of your ex-boyfriend’s frat brothers and former “friend”. If there was no one closer around, your ex would hang out with Hoseok and a bunch of other guys not in his inner circle. And when there were closer guys around, you ex would ignore you. So you’d talk with Hoseok. He kept you company many a night when your boyfriend was nowhere to be found and you were alone at the frat parties you were only attending out of girlfriend loyalty.

From what you remember, Hoseok was an architecture and dance double major. He always had good jokes, good weed, and a flirty vibe about him. You’re a little ashamed to admit that you flirted back despite the fact that you were often around him as someone else’s date. But it never progressed into anything more. Not even after you broke up with your ex and were attending the parties to spite him briefly after the break up.

Hoseok would smoke you out and crowd you into the kitchen corner while you passed a blunt back and forth, exchanging banter and heated glances but nothing more. You spent more nights than you’re willing to confess to thinking about the comfortable press of his hand on the small of your back.

Now, he still looks the same as he did half a year ago, but with the addition of a golden tan from the part of the summer that’s already passed. He looks good in his impeccably white t-shirt and uniform slacks with his artfully tousled hair. Among the other model-like employees he fits right in. It’s a little unfair.

“You enjoying your summer,” he asks while giving you the perfunctory little card with a number 3 on it before leading you through a hall of changing rooms.

“Sort of. I moved into a new apartment with one of my friends, and we just finished getting settled. I’m gonna start teaching in the fall.”

“Teaching, huh? Whereabouts?” Hoseok selects one of the large fitting rooms all the way in the back. The ones that can fit packs of friends who are very invested in the outfit picking process.

“You know the Montessori school out by the northern part of the city?” He nods in recognition. “It’s that one.”

He lets out a low whistle at the mention of the small private elementary school that all the city’s most wealthy inhabitants bring their children to. “Sounds like it’ll be a good move, then. You’re living the dream, huh?”

“Yeah,” you duck your head modestly as you linger in front of the changing room door. “What about you? Are you here for the summer?”

“For the summer,” he confirms, “Then I’m moving into the city too. Near the Big Hit park to work with a firm there.”

“Are you gonna be interning?”

“I’m gonna be leading a project with my own design, actually.”

“Oh, Hoseok, that’s great! It’s really early in the game too. You’re going places.”

“Yeah, its—” he stops to look around the area and takes a reluctant step back. You realize then just how close you two were standing to each other. “I don’t want to hold you up if you’ve got friends waiting on you to pick something out.”

“Oh, you’re good. I came here by myself. My friends were supposed to help me get something, but they all...got busy.” You roll your eyes.

Hoseok returns to his station and continues organizing his area once more, but raises his voice so it carries to you. “That sucks. I’ve had stuff like that happen a few times.”

When you don’t immediately respond, he figures you’re busy changing. Almost instantly his thoughts gravitate towards your swimsuit choice, wondering what you picked out. Are you a fan of string bikinis or athletic cuts? His ears subconsciously strain for the rustling of clothes before he cuts the wandering thoughts short. He leaves to go get some extra work from his supervisor and give you privacy.

In the changing room, you’re having a bit of trouble. The first suit is nearly on, but won’t zip past your bust like it's supposed to. You underestimate your strength as you try to force the zipper up and end up ripping the tab off the little sliding bit. You let out a quiet curse before resolving to buy the suit since you broke it. Perhaps it was your fault for thinking you could fit into a size you normally never wear, though it looked like it would fit you when you draped it over your torso earlier. Unfortunately for you, there weren’t any larger sizes either.

Pulling the tag hanging off the side of the suit, you check the price curiously only to find that the suit bandeau is heinously expensive on its own. You have no idea how much the bottoms cost, but you’re fairly certain they’re sold separately. You panic at the thought of having to pay so much for the suit and fumble with the sliding body of the zipper again, trying to get the top off of you, but it won’t budge.

“Hello?” Your voice rings out with uncertainty. You’d heard footsteps leaving the fitting room area earlier, but you didn’t hear them return.

When you get only silence as a reply, you open the door to your changing stall and poke your head out. You’re about to tip toe out to hopefully flag down one of the women working in the front of the store when Hoseok walks back into the fitting room area. He’s busy with whatever is on his phone and doesn’t seem to see you at first. You curse to yourself, hoping he doesn’t see you. To keep an eye on him, you start to walk backwards towards your changing room, but your bare feet squeak loudly against the polished wooden floor.

He looks toward you in that moment to chase the sound. His hand holding his phone drops and eyes linger on your form for longer than could be considered merely professional appraisal and his head turns quickly once he realizes this. Inside his chest, his heart is flutters at the after image of you behind his eyelids. You look good. Really good. While he might think a broken zipper would ruin the look, the fact that the bandeau is only half zipped and straining to contain your breasts makes you look like a classic pinup.

It takes a conscious effort to stray from mentally retracing the path that your curves made in the suit. The voluptuous flare of your hips and shapely legs both grab his attention even more than the bright candy apple red fabric of the suit. He turns abruptly, about to act as though he’s needed in the stock room when your voice sounds out, embarrassed.

“Hoseok?”

“Yeah?” His voice cracks a little, suddenly flustered, and he covers it best he can with a low cough. “What’s up?”

“I’m really sorry but,” you avert your eyes as you walk forward. “I think I broke this suit.”

“Huh?” Your exposed skin looks soft in the gentle lighting of the hallway, and somehow the sight of it is loud enough to muffle your confession. “You broke something?”

“It’s the zipper on the top. I was gonna buy it since I broke it. But the suit is, like, a million dollars. Is there...any chance you can give me a friends and family discount?”

“Oh.” He jumps at the chance to go back to being a helpful professional person again. “That’s okay. I’ll just tell my boss that it broke off in handling. We just put those out today.”

Your eyes go round with hope. “I don’t have to buy it?”

“Nah,” he waves away your offer, eyes now glued to his own shoes. “I got it.”

“Really?” Your face lights up beautifully, relief softening your features. “That’s amazing, thank you.”

He watches for a brief moment while you go back into the changing room. Surprisingly—or perhaps unsurprisingly, with the way his day is going—your ass is amazing, if the way the suit stretches in an almost heart over the cheeks. His throat is suddenly very dry and he nearly downs the entire water bottle he keeps near his station. Hoseok is only allowed a few moments of silence to recover.

“Hey, um, do you...do you think you could come here?”

Faltering in his steps, he walks back down the hallway with a rising sense of suspicion. He’s not sure what will come next, but he knows deep in his gut it’ll be odd and possibly enough to get him fired. Still, he stands in front of the door with uncertainty roiling in his belly.

“What’s up?”

“Come in,” is all you say in a muted hiss.

His hand is sweating when he turns the knob leading into the changing room. He tries to open it cautiously, give himself enough time to peer in and give you time to cover anything you don’t want him to see. But you merely yank him in by the collar and shut the door quickly before locking it. At his wide-eyed, nervous expression you quickly move to make things less awkward.

“Sorry,” you toss over your shoulder while testing the door knob. “I know this is weird, but I can’t get the suit off. It’s too tight to pull over my head and the zipper won’t budge no matter how hard I pull on it. Can you...help?”

Hoseok can only nod in response with nerves halting his tongue. He approaches you slowly, making sure nothing he’s doing seems threatening. Or overly enthusiastic. You’re pressed against the door with your back to the exit and it doesn’t take long for him to close the distance between you two. You’re careful to keep your breathing light so as not to draw extra attention to your chest despite the fact that Hoseok is now eyeballing it like its a complicated puzzle.

“I think the only way to get it off is to just brute force the zipper,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

You wet your lips nervously and let out a shaky breath that you pray he’ll ignore.

“You might wanna, um, hold your...” he gestures vaguely at your ample cleavage. “So they don’t fall out if we get the top to open.”

Gingerly you cup your breasts to hold the fabric covering them together like he suggested. Hoseok brushes your fingers when he finally attempts to pull the zipper down for the first time. He mutters a quick apology and tries as best he can not to graze you again with his knuckles as his hand shakes. The other hand is behind his back, tightly fisted in effort to maintain his cool. From your vantage point, you can actually see his hand and the way the veins in his arm flash by looking at the mirror on the changing room wall.

A few more harsh tugs gets the zipper’s sliding body down the chain about halfway, but it’s not enough to get the straps of the suit off your arms.

“Maybe you should use two hands,” you hedge. He nods and holds the sides in one hand and the zipper with the other.

Hoseok lets out a steady breath before pulling the zipper down as hard as he can without ripping the suit. He can maybe fib to his boss about the zipper coming off, but not the top ripping in two. Luckily, the zipper stutters open wide enough for you to be able to slip it off now. The only problem is that you forgot to keep a firm grip on the halves of the top and your breasts almost spill completely out of the top.

You stand there, still holding your top up, and chance a look up at Hoseok. He’s gazing down at your chest but senses your gaze and locks eyes with you then. Something in the air between you changes, shifts, clicks. There’s an electricity that you can practically feel crackling under your skin and you take a step forward without thinking. Hoseok’s eyes fall closed as you approach, lashes fanning out prettily across the apples of his cheeks. Before you can chicken out, you ghost your lips over his slack mouth. It’s only a fleeting moment, but you still feel a jolt of something from the contact that has you letting out a small gasp.

Hoseok leans in to touch his forehead to yours almost as if he’s about to initiate another kiss, but a woman’s voice rings through the changing room area, letting him know that they need him to help his supervisor comb through the main part of the store and reset all the displays. Something about all the normal folders and floor monitors being out on their lunch break.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute. Just trying something on,” he lies.

He peers down at you again with a look that’s more subdued but still smoldering, eyes hooded dreamily, smoothing tingling palms against his work pants. Your cheeks heat up with the intensity of his stare, but you back away. The atmosphere isn’t quite the same after having the tenuous balance disrupted by his coworker. With your back against the door and so much of you still bared to him, you suddenly feel so vulnerable. Part of you is scared because that does something to your insides. Tying them up with excitement.

“I should go,” you sigh as he backs up.

He looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself. He slides back out while you’re collecting your actual clothes. When you finish changing, you shuffle passed Hoseok and purchase the expensive broken bathing suit with a grimace.

A few days later, Hoseok is in the main part of the store replacing some items that were knocked over by a careless customer when a coworker comes over and taps him on the shoulder.

“What’s up, man?”

“There’s a customer here who wants you to start a dressing room for her. She wants a selection of bathing suits, too.”

“Cool,” Hoseok hands the employee the clothes he was dealing with. “She say what size?”

The guy relays the size information to him and with that Hoseok makes his way to the bathing suit section to pick out a variety of styles in the right size. With his arms laden with different pieces, he heads back into the changing room area. It’s empty but that’s not unusual at this day and time. It was the store owner’s idea to make it so there weren’t ever that many employees working a shift at a time to give off a minimalist, unbothered vibe.

“Miss,” he calls out to the customer, looking for a sign of the woman by looking for her feet in the cracks of the stall doors. “I have some pieces for you to try. I’ll be right outside in case you don’t want anything or you want a different color. Or if you want to check out as well. I can ring you up.”

“Thanks,” your voice sounds from behind the final door of the hallway. You push open the door to reveal your face.

Hoseok’s cheeks bloom rosy from behind the tiny mountain of bathing suits he gathered unwittingly for you. A strong wave of deja vu washes over him as he’s taken back to the last time he saw you here. The memory of the (almost) kiss is still fresh in his mind like it was yesterday because, at this point, he’s replayed it in his mind dozens of times. A couple of those replays involved the tissue box and bottle of lotion he keeps by his bed. During those times the moment was stretched out and embellished thanks to his industrious imagination.

“I’ll take some of those,” you say with arms reaching to a portion of the suits. “You said you’d be nearby?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“Good.”

Like a doting assistant, Hoseok leans on the wall outside your stall, eyes pitching across all parts of the room to occupy his thoughts and time. His gaze bounces from the opposite end of the hallway where his post is normally, to the other stalls, to the mirror lining the wall adjacent to him. There he sees his reflection as well as a reflection of all the stalls. Small movement in the mirror catches his eye, a quick flash of skin. With a hesitant look back at your stall, he realizes the door is cracked. Just enough for him to catch a glimpse of bare arm. A sliver of the mirror inside, through which he swears he sees you looking back at him.

He whips his head back to stare down the hallway, biting harshly on his tongue when the rustling of clothes stops and the sound of the door’s hinge gives a prolonged creak.

“Hoseok?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you give me that green one you have there and I’ll give this one back to you?”

“Oh,” he blinks. Surprised but relieved at the fact that you didn’t tear him a new one for being a peeping Tom. “S-sure.”

He looks away as best he can while handing you the suit you asked for before waiting patiently for you to remove and return the first one you tried. He wants to say something to you, ask about the other day and why you left so abruptly. Why you bought the suit that he said he would take care of. But all of that gets dashed away when his eyes wander instinctively back to your stall and the door is now half closed at best.

With the door angled like this, he can see your reflection perfectly from where he’s standing. You’d be naked if it weren’t for the delicate pair of underwear you’re wearing to safely try on the suits according to store policy. Hoseok can’t drag his eyes away from the sight of you examining the hunter green string bikini’s intricate tie system before attempting to put it on. The green bottoms lovingly hug the curves of your hips but leave little to the imagination with the way they’re bunched up. You skim your index fingers under the elastic of the bottoms to snap them back into place and cover more of your ass. He mourns the change in the view briefly before migrating up the slope of your bare back up to the loose strings dangling from the bikini top.

“Can you help me with this,” you give him a pout that he can’t say no to.

Suddenly he’s scrambling into the changing stall to put the clothes he was holding down on the small bench inside. He comes up behind you and recalls the intended weaving before deftly knotting the strings together in the right place. The end result is a pretty lattice pattern that contrasts with the simple triangles covering your breasts in the front. You test the support and bounce a little, cupping your chest lightly before letting out a pleased hum at Hoseok’s handiwork.

“What do you think?”

He gulps. “It’s, uh, it’s nice.”

“Just nice?” Your voice comes off as coy. You know you look better than nice, but inside you’re fighting the urge to gnaw at your lip self-consciously.

You knew that you were making a big gamble the moment you decided to request Hoseok as your personal shopper not even an hour ago. But ever since you rushed out of the shop a few days prior, the only thing you could think about was Hoseok. Hoseok and the way he looked at you. The way his palms trembled subtly as he reached for you that other day in the stall. The need was palpable and radiated from him like summer heat off dark concrete. It had been a long time since something like this made your breath hitch, and this was the mere memory alone. The memory itself was simultaneously addicting and not enough. So here you are, acting like you were filming a bad porno so you could chase that fleeting moment from last time. His supervisor wouldn’t be able to get you to back down this time even if she was banging on the stall door.

“I like it,” he mumbles quietly after some time.

“Me too. I’ll take it.” Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you watch his expression carefully. “Help me take it off?”

His mouth drops open just a bit. It’s such a small gesture that you might have missed if every instinct in you wasn’t curled tight with giddy lust. His fingers are feather-light against the skin of your back as he loosens the binds he just did. All the while his gaze never leaves yours in the mirror. Almost as if he’s trying to communicate with you. You give a miniscule nod and then he’s giving the final tug.

The bikini top slithers down your front into a cool, smooth pile of ribbon at your feet. You’re bare like the other day, but your back is almost proudly straight this time and you fall back against him easily.

His hand comes up to lay on your shoulder. The weight is bureaucratic and safe enough that for a second you’re expecting a rebuff.

“Are you sure you wanna do this here?” The tip of his nose skims gently near your temple. Your breath hitches in anticipation. “Because once you say the word, we’re doing this. And I’m not closing that fucking door. I wanna see you backup all that strutting around you’ve been doing.”

You nod again. A shaky breath leaves you and you reach a hand back to creep up his front, fingers grazing collar and tugging needy. He takes a few steps forward, forcing you to stumble forward as well, before placing both hands on your hips. His hands push into the plush skin exposed there as if to test your solidness. The grip is warm and firm as he pushes your hips out until you have to lean forward and brace both hands on the full-length mirror on the changing room wall for balance.

“I don’t want you looking around all distracted at the door. Only look in the mirror. I want you to watch yourself and watch me with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh.

With that, he tugs down the bikini bottoms to reveal the underwear you had underneath. While you step out of the swimsuit bottoms and kick them to the side, he slides his hand down the front of your panties. The pads of his fingers part your folds easily with no resistance thanks to the copious amount of arousal already there.

“I’ve been thinking about how the other day would have played out if I never left for two days now,” you explain.

“You been touching yourself to it?”

“Yes,” your breath hitches when he swipes over your clit roughly.

“Me too.”

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The sweetness of the gesture contrasts starkly with the obscene wet noises coming from where he plays with your wet center. It's not loud enough to compete with the music playing through the store. And definitely not enough to grab anyone’s if they were seated at Hoseok’s post at the end of the hallway. But you still have to fight the instinct to look back at the half open door of the changing stall to make sure no one will catch you.

“You paying attention?”

Your eyes refocus on the reflection in the mirror and zero in on the way Hoseok’s hand barely fits in your underwear. Still, his middle and ring fingers are obscured by the front of your underwear and all you can really see is the way his hand movements speed up. A second later the tightness of the figure eights he rubs into you registers in your core and the wave of pleasure that hits has your knees buckling slightly. Luckily you’re already holding onto something—the mirror.

The slick noises coming from your center get louder as more arousal leaks onto Hoseok’s rapidly moving fingers. In the mirror, you can see that his brow is furrowed in concentration, or perhaps subtly dialed back lust. Meanwhile, his mouth hangs open slightly in silent, sympathetic moans. He must sense your gaze on his face because he looks up then and locks eyes with you in the mirror.

“It feels good,” you whine out the last syllable when he flirts with your entrance for the first time. Already, you’re clenching around a phantom something, eager for things to speed up.

“That’s good.”

His response sounds nonchalant, but you can feel his hardness nudging against your ass if you push back enough. He’s careful to keep it away from you, though, so he can focus on you. It’s not exactly attention that you’re used to after so many years with your ex, but you welcome it all the same. Hoseok is attentive and competitive in the way that he seeks the things that accidentally draw moans from your parted lips. Soon enough, your arms are shaking from a combination of the effort of holding yourself up against the mirror and your first orgasm’s approach.

Hoseok is now grinding the heel of his other palm into your clit, fingertips pistoning against one spongy area of your walls after seeing the way you had you stuttering and your hands sliding a bit against the glass. The first hand wandered up your torso some time ago. He meandered a path along the soft valley of your stomach before coming to cup your breast. With your arousal still shining dully on his fingers, he tweaks your nipple until it draws up and out. Testing various pressures and grips, he finds a perfect rhythm of rolling and pinching that makes you clench around his other hand. His fingers are elegant and long, but not quite thick enough even in a pair. It drives you slightly crazy and you instinctively push your hips back to grind harder against him, mewling shamelessly.

“Please,” your plea comes out crumpled from in between ragged breaths. “I want you.”

“Hmm?” The sharp curl of Hoseok’s smile appears in the mirror. It matches the mean humor that sneaks in to his cooing tone. “You wanna be full?

You nod, cheeks warming from the begging. “I want your dick.”

“Someone’s greedy,” he pulls his fingers out, marveling at the squelching sound the motion makes. “Don’t want to get off on just fingers, huh? You wanna be stuffed full in the middle of this changing room where anyone could walk in and see you.”

You can only moan in affirmation as Hoseok finally tugs down his own bottoms and kicks them to the side. Your eyes take in his muscled legs, landing appreciatively on the line on his thighs where his tan stops and his shorts must have protected his skin from the sun one day. Hoseok spins the two of you then, while you’re lost in thought about how one of his thighs would feel between yours.

With your back against the wall, Hoseok nods to himself like he’s satisfied with his work and begins laying soft, wet kisses against the skin of your throat. He pulls back only to slowly peel off his work shirt, teasing you with the slow exposure of his equally toned torso. You have a nice view of the way back muscles flex under smooth skin now that he’s facing away from the mirror.

“Watch yourself carefully this time,” he warns you with a hand on your chin to direct your gaze to his momentarily.

When he’s sure you’re watching your reflection obediently, he returns to your breasts. He really does think they’re a work of art. So he recites a soundless sonnet to them, tongue flitting against each twin peak with ardor. Your skin becomes almost blotchy in the heat of your moment. Heeding Hoseok’s words, you take in your appearance.

With a heaving chest and parted lips, you look wanton to say the least. Your eyes are at half mast and fighting against the pleasure Hoseok’s plucking fingers bring. Then you see him reaching down to grasp himself before turning to smirk at the mirror, almost as if he’s giving another audience you weren’t aware of, a show.

There’s not much warning. There’s only the gentle nudge of his knees tapping your already lax ones apart before he’s hitching one of your legs over his slender hips. In his grasp, the head of his erection runs along the length of your center. He’s hot and swollen against you, smearing precum on your folds on his journey to your entrance.

“You’re so wet,” he bites out with the same soft incredulity as a curse. His head pops up so he can pin you with a pleading look, almost like he can’t believe you’re you. “What if someone saw you like this? All spread open and dripping for me.”

“Maybe I—ah—wouldn’t mind.” You watch your own hand come up to thread through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. You tug gently on it like its a lifeline as he lines himself up, excitement bubbling up in your stomach. “Mmh, fuck.”

He takes his time bottoming out to make sure you have time to see your expression evolve as you encounter every ridge and swell of him. The stretch has your eyes rolling back, but you don’t let yourself close them. Instead you take in the way your breasts bounce now that Hoseok has begun pumping into you experimentally. The force of his thrusts causes the walls of the changing stall to rattle loudly and for a fraction of a second you worry someone—a customer or another employee seeking assistance with something—might hear the noise and try to see what the source was.

But then your leg is lifted a bit higher and the angle changes. Suddenly he’s going deeper, stretching you slightly more, all the while your clit is bombarded with the brush of his pelvis with every stroke. The leg you have on the ground shakes from the intense bolt of pleasure and you let out a desperate moan.

“Hoseok, oh my god, I’m—you feel so good,” you do the best you can to keep your voice low.

“I can’t hear you. Louder.”

“I said you feel good.”

“Where?”

“In-inside me. I can feel all of you and I’m so...you stretch me out so good,” you pant out.

“Are you close?” His teeth are gritted with the effort it takes to push back his own oncoming orgasm. “Shit.”

“Yeah, I just need—”

Before you can finish, Hoseok is tapping lightly on your lips, pulling the bottom one from between your teeth. You open up and take his thumb and suck it. Once he’s sure its wet enough, he lingers for a few beats to enjoy the feeling of your tongue lapping at him. Then he’s collecting his hand back with a pop and snakes it down between your two writhing bodies. The effect of his spit-slick finger against your clit while he continues to plow into you is instant. It’s just the thing you needed to really kick things into overdrive. Soon you’re chasing the glorious feeling by bringing him in impossibly closer with two hands on his petite ass and by flexing the thigh you had holding his hips in place. In this position, he’s too constricted to really move in and out, so he adapts and begins a rough, circular grind.

The moans you let out are high and breathy, inappropriately loud, and your eyes dart back to your reflection just in time to see your pornographic expression. Hoseok seems to enjoy it too as he leans in to nuzzle at your forehead before cupping your face in one hand and bringing you in to kiss you sweetly. You’re not sure how he manages to make sweet the amount of tongue he’s using, but it works and you sigh dreamily against his lips.

Your orgasm surges through you again when he surprises you and sucks on your tongue. He pulls back then and watches with awe coloring his face. Or perhaps it's the fluorescents and the light sheen of sweat. Either way, the sight of you has him pulsing inside your already convulsing walls. With quick reflexes, he’s pulling out and replacing his dick with three fingers. He strokes himself—slowly to stay hard but not to bring himself to climax just yet—and watches you come down from your high.

When you’re done, you let your leg flop down from its perch on his hip bone. You’re a little wobbly from holding the pose for so long and you fall to your feet gracelessly, not thinking about how disgusting the floors may be. It’s then that you’re able to really look at Hoseok’s dick for the first time when you’re basically at eye level with it.

“Where do you wanna come?” Your eyes look impossibly large from where he’s standing and for a moment he almost answers ‘your face’ before your cleavage grabs his attention.

He mumbles then, ducking his head as his cheeks flush prettily.

“What?”

“...On your tits,” he gulps, not sure of your response.

You merely cross your arms under your breasts to lift them. A disbelieving little laugh leaves him before he’s kneeling down in front of you. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s better than it was when he was standing. He reaches out then and rubs fondly at the area where your shoulder and neck meet with one hand while pumping himself with the other.

It doesn’t take long. Hoseok’s been rock hard since he realized the changing room door wasn’t closed and the fact that you just agreed to let him come on your boobs almost made him swallow his tongue. They’re really something, he thinks to himself. They look soft and he knows if he stuck his face in between them, they’d smell good too if your perfume from the other day when you walked by him is any indication. They’re the perfect size, too. His hips stutter in their rhythm as he thinks about all the other things he could be doing to them. He could be fucking them while you hold them for him. Or, If you let him, he’d spend hours just lapping at them until they were sensitive enough to have you squealing under him. He bites down on his tongue and speeds up his strokes while imagining nipping at you, sucking bruises into the warm skin of your chest.

“I’m—now,” he chokes out before spilling over your breasts. His eyes closed momentarily when the high first hit him, but he opens them quickly enough to see one of the last spurts shoot out and paint a nipple white. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

He collapses into his own pile of exhausted limbs in front of you and grabs at the boxers he was wearing earlier. Like a switch has been flipped, the environment changes. It’s not exactly awkward but everything feels fragile and tentative all of the sudden.

Leaning forward, his wipes the remnants of his release off your chest. The two of you make shy eye contact a few times while he’s in your personal space. He hesitates a bit before leaning closer to slot his lips over yours. The kiss is heated, but not overly passionate. A simmer. Soon he’s wiping his hands before tossing away the soiled underwear and gingerly cupping your face in both his warm hands. He kisses you so thoroughly, so well that you end up unconsciously chasing his lips once he pulls away.

“Good?” He chuckles when you finally open your eyes. You’re not sure when you closed them.

“It was alright,” you sniff. “But I think you might have to do that again some time, ‘cause I’m not 100% sure.” He grins and swipes a thumb over your cheek.

“Name a time and a place and I’m there.”

“What about Saturday at 2,” you blurt out.

“Oh, uh, that’s very specific—”

“Sorry! I’ve been meaning to ask you if you wanted to go to this...thing with me. It’s a party at my ex’s house and I thought it might be less painful if,” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed at your speediness. You don’t even know if Hoseok wants anything more than hookups and here you are asking him to be your plus one to a pool party.

“It’s specific, but I’m free. Should I bring my swimsuit?” Your answering smile is infectious and he can’t help but kiss at it briefly.

“Of course. I’m bringing mine,” you mumble between his lips. “I gotta pay for it first.”

“You’re really wearing the green one?”

“Yeah. It’s my color and it makes my boobs look nice.”

“True,” he nods seriously. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and I’ll ring you up.”

While you’re clothed and at the register, you fight to ignore the knowing stares of a few of the other people working on the floor. Hoseok seems unphased by their looks and actually seems to be glowing. He hums and smiles to himself while carefully folding and wrapping your bathing suit in some tissue paper. When he turns the little monitor around for your to pay with your card, he’s still humming to himself.

“I get off for the day in half and hour,” he blurts out while you sign for the bathing suit.

“Is that so,” you humor him and raise an intrigued looking eyebrow.

“Yeah, so, uh...” The girl who’s behind the counter with Hoseok and had been collecting hangers snorts to herself at Hoseok’s sudden shy disposition. “If you’re gonna be around, I can show you the best place to eat in the food court. If you’re hungry, I mean.”

You pretend to mull it over while putting your card back in your wallet. “Alright. But I don’t eat mall pizza.”

“Hoseok,” you hiss as he presses himself against your backside while you search your ex’s kitchen for more plastic cups. “Someone will see us.”

“I don’t care,” he grinds against you, displacing your bottoms enough to expose the entire left globe of your ass. “I hope someone does. I hope he does.”

You turn around then, hoping to disrupt his fun, but he just brings both his hands to cup your breasts. The little green triangles do little to protect your modesty and, if anything, made his hands itch even more to touch you. He squeezes them in his hands, and when you don’t say anything, he pushes the material up and over them. Like he expected, your nipples are hard and have been since he started eye-fucking you earlier from across the pool.

“You’re insane,” you gasp. Partly because you’re functionally topless when any one of the partygoers, including your friends, could come around the corner in search of ice. And partly because Hoseok has latched onto one of your breasts and is now suckling at one nipple. “It’s like you—oh—want to get caught.”

He pulls off just long enough to speak. “Why should I care if anyone sees me making you feel good.”

“You know, in hindsight, I should have realized you have a thing about public sex.”

“You really should have. I gave you all the signs.” He has enough manners to shift so he’s covering you should anyone walk into the kitchen. His hand slides into your bathing suit bottoms, fingers immediately getting coated with your slick. “But it feels like you might be a little exhibitionist yourself.”

The sound of Monica and Irene laughing in the next room has your whole body tensing up with nerves, but it also has you sucking his fingers deeper into your center. Footsteps of more people who probably want a break from the sun enter the room, some sounding dangerously close.

“Oh god,” your head falls forward onto his shoulder as the wet sounds of your pussy get louder as he massages your clit. “Hoseok, we’re gonna get kicked out.”

“Not if you’re quiet.” He starts kissing your cheek, making a path to your mouth. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

#bscproject #btssmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #bttnetwork #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenario #bts imagines #hoseok imagine #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic

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lycorogue · 3 years

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Holy smokes guys, if you’ll indulge me, I want to tell you about the dream I just had. (*EDIT: I wrote this right as I woke up from the dream before I forgot most of it. However, I had to get ready for work, so I was only able to finish/polish/post just now.) Mostly because I only have dreams I can remember about twice a year (and I used to be one of those people that remembered dreams nightly when I was a kid. OTL), so I want to jot down as much as I can remember before I lose it. Plus, it has a lot of Miraculous Ladybug elements, and some of you might find it amusing.

My dream started off with my husband and I having a day off together, shirking our adult responsibilities for the day, and just having a date day. We drove into the nearby city and just had a day of goofing around as we window shopped (remember when it was safe for people to do stuff like this? *long sigh*) One of the places I distinctly recall us stopping was some sporting goods store where we checked out kayaks (they’re super big in our area; practically everyone owns one).

But then, as we were checking out the kayaks, my husband wasn’t my husband anymore, and I wasn’t myself. At some point my mind converted both of us into 18yo versions of Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng from the show Miraculous Ladybug.

We were just friends; hanging out; simply spending the day together. Just the two of us. We were still goofing around and window shopping, just as we were when we were still myself and my husband, but now there was this sort of unsure sexual tension????? Like, Adrien was very much Chat Noir flirting, but in a way that Marinette couldn’t quite tell if it was supposed to be flirting, and Adrien didn’t seem sure himself if he meant it to be flirting??? But there was a LOT of chaste touching of upper arms, lower backs (mainly to direct Marinette), and hand holding (mostly to pull her in a particular direction).

I can’t recall if it was a canon character or if my mind made someone up, but I do recall a random second 18yo boy kind of following us around. It could have been the show’s canon “Adrien Agreste’s #1 fan” Wayhem, but it also felt like it wasn’t supposed to be him? You know how dreams are like that? Where you can’t quite pin down who someone is supposed to be in them? To make life easier, though, we’ll just say it was supposed to be Wayhem.

So, the dream became a sort of aged up version of the episode “Gorizilla” where Adrien (formerly my husband) and Marinette (formerly me) are running around Paris (formerly a US city nearby me IRL) just trying to have a good time window shopping together and goofing around while Wayhem is semi-stalking them? Now, canonically, after the incident of Wayhem chasing Adrien around Paris during “Gorizilla”, Adrien became Wayhem’s friend and was indeed willing to hang out with the kid, as long as Wayhem treated Adrien as a normal kid and not a celebrity that Wayhem was star-struck over. In my dream’s canon, this was still semi-true. Wayhem was more of an acquaintance of Adrien’s than a friend the blonde would hang out with regularly, but Adrien still made time to hang out with his fan. However, Wayhem in my dream could not wait his turn, apparently, and when he saw Adrien “in the wild”, as it were, he wanted to join in the fun. So a large portion of the dream was Adrien (Hubby) and Marinette (me; I saw the dream through 1st person via Marinette’s eyes, but I KNEW that’s who I was supposed to be) trying to ditch Wayhem.

We ran around department stores, riding bikes through the toy aisles, and had shopping cart races where Adrien was pushing me (Marinette) around the store in the shopping cart with Wayhem behind with a giant stuffed animal in his cart. We snuck into movies at the cinema, only to try to sneak back out to lose Wayhem. I can’t recall what else we did, but we had a grand old time hanging out and screwing around in various stores while also trying to shake Wayhem (and, to be fair, Adrien did try to tell Wayhem that he was trying to have a day just hanging out with Marinette and will set up a time to hang with him, but the kid wouldn’t leave us alone. He was like a kid brother just following us around trying to play with us when we just needed our own time).

Eventually, we did lose Wayhem, and we were back inside a department store. When we noticed we were alone, Adrien had this cheeky grin, and asked me if I’d be willing to go wait for him over in the women’s clothing department for a couple of minutes; he had something he wanted to do privately real quick. Shrugging off my curiosity of what he was up to (I like to be surprised), I agree and go wandering through the clothing racks.

There’s this whole thing about a group of older teenage girls trying to pick out outfits that best accentuate parts of their bodies that they like, but other girls are debating that the first ones are just sexualizing their own bodies to be on display for men, and it was this whole thing about whether you dress sexy for yourself or because you want someone to find you attractive. @_@ Not sure why my dream got super philosophical in the middle there.

Anyway, Marinette (me) navigates around this crowd of girls debating and finds this cute white t-shirt dress with Jagged Stone’s logo (for those who don’t know, Jagged Stone is a canon rock star within the Miraculous Ladybug universe). While Marinette canonically wears almost exclusively clothing she designs herself, in my dream she also occasionally buys clothing with trademarked logos on them that she likes (because she can’t legally recreate them). So she (I) goes into the dressing room and puts the dress on.

Then, wearing the dress as a tunic over the normal pink capris Marinette canonically wears, and carrying my (Marinette’s) shirt and jacket in my arms, I wander the women’s department some more to make sure Adrien can find me. As I do so, my cellphone rings, and my IRL uncle is calling me to see if my sister-in-law would like a DVD set of the show Lost, I believe? I can’t quite remember which show he was asking about. The odd thing is that my uncle is about 25 years older than me. My sister-in-law is about 2 years older than me. I don’t think they talk on Facebook, and I’m pretty sure they only met at my wedding. So I have absolutely no clue why my brain connected these two in a manner where he’d want to double check with me on a birthday gift (belated Christmas gift?) for her.

Anyway, I get off the phone with my IRL uncle, and my IRL job calls me with some sort of crisis that I can’t recall. It was a quick phone call as the owner of the store ended up in some sort of car trouble, I think, and the woman I was on the phone with had to quickly get off to help the owner. It was a bizarre intermission within my dream. Anyway, my IRL husband shows up (I’m still picturing myself as 18yo Marinette, btw) and checks in on the phone calls. We joke around a little bit, and POOF Hubby is magically Adrien again, and we’re back to the main storyline.

So Adrien gives a little “wow” and holds out a hand for me (Marinette) to take. He then has me do a twirl to show off the dress. He talks about how lovely it looks on me, but then kind of scrunches his eyebrows. He then kneels in front of me, like RIGHT UP on my left leg, and clicks his tongue disappointingly. He points out this huge stain along the hem just above my left knee. It’s about the size of an American half-dollar and almost looks like a blood stain: a dark reddish-brown center that fades into an off-white/light-yellow along the corona of the stain.

As Adrien plays with the hem to get a better look at the stain on the dress, his fingers brush against my knee (I mean, I still have the capris on, but still), and it almost looks like he’s worshipping me, and my heart CANNOT deal! I can feel it RACING and my cheeks starting to warm up. That’s when Adrien starts, like, HARD CORE flirting with me by again commenting about how good I look in the dress, and how well it fits my body shape, and how disappointing it is that this dress has a stain because he’d love to see me wear the dress a few more times. And he just slowly stands up, but doesn’t really move back before doing so, so I have to take a small step back so he’s not just sliding up my leg as he stands. And my heart is about to EXPLODE as he looks at me with those intense green eyes.

I swallow hard, and Adrien just kind of puts on this cheery smile like nothing just happened, and he suggests we look to see if there’s another dress in my size that doesn’t have the stain. I lead him to the rack and we riffle through it quickly. We do find another one of the Jagged Stone t-shirt dresses in my size, and Adrien takes it to fully inspect it. No stains. No loose hem-work. The print of Jagged Stone’s logo seems well done. The dress itself isn’t all that expensive. We got a winner. Adrien then suggests I go get changed back into my normal clothes, so I leave him as I enter the changing booth to put my shirt and jacket back on, and that’s where I wake up.

But I do so with the lingering knowledge that Adrien 100% bought Marinette that dress while she was changing, and his initial surprise (why he asked her to go to the clothing department to wait for him in the first place) was a little pastel-rainbow tie-dyed teddy bear that he wanted to get her to commemorate their day-long hangout.

So.... yeah... that was my dream, and it was so intense at the end there that I legit woke up because my own, physical, IRL heart was RACING from all the Adrien flirting towards the end.

Just wanted to share that. Thanks for indulging me and reading all the way through.

(*EDIT: I’ve been lowkey thinking about that whole brushing Marinette’s knee while inspecting the dress thing all day. So guess who has yet ANOTHER plot bunny to try to wrangle. Thanks, Brain! 9_9 Care to actually help me WRITE any of these plot bunnies, or are you just going to plop more unexpectedly onto my lap and then just wander off? Oh! The latter? Great. >3>)

#LycoRogue writing #LycoRogue original #LycoRogue ramblings #dream #random dream I had #ML #Miraculous Ladybug #I think I have a new aged-up story idea #and it may come with some soft-core smut #>3>

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hms-chill · 4 years

Text

RWRB Study Guide, Chapter 8

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

James I (203): James I/VI (First of England, Sixth of Scotland) is known for both translating the Bible and being just... so, so incredibly gay. The book mentions that he promoted a dumb jock to gentleman of the bedchamber, but it leaves out that 13-year-old James would just make out with dudes in public, and that the dumb jock (George Villers) was James’s third serious adult relationship. His friends introduced him to George because his last boyfriend was bad for the kingdom.

George Eliot (205): Mary Anne Evans wrote under the pen name George Eliot to escape the stereotype that women could only write romances. She wrote seven novels, of which Middlemarch is the most famous, known for their realism and psychological insight.

Daniel Defoe (205): A pioneer of the English novel, Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe as well as a series of divisive political pamphlets and tracts.

Jonathan Swift (205): Irish political writer most famous for A Modest Proposal, a satirical piece that suggests cannibalism of infants as a more humane response to the British treatment of Ireland than letting them grow to starve in adulthood.

Dickens... “woman who languishes away in a crumbling mansion wearing her wedding gown” (205): Charles Dickens wrote stories concerned with the lower classes. This quote in particular refers to Miss Havisham from Great Expectations, who was left at the altar and refused to take off her wedding dress or even put away the food set out for the wedding.

Sense and Sensibility (205): This is probably Austen’s second most popular novel (after Pride and Prejudice); it follows the four Dashwood women in their move to a new home following the death of Mr. Dashwood. Like most of Austen’s novels, the opinionated narrator follows the women through a series of romantic mishaps, culminating in a happy ending.

Green American Money (206): Fun fact, British money is blue and orange and purple and all sorts of fun colors! It also all looks different, because (at least in Scotland) four banks are allowed to print pound notes, so there are four different designs all in circulation.

Sean Hannity (206): A conservative American political commentator.

Harvard rowing (206): Rowing is like... the bougiest of sports.

Pleiad (206): In Greek mythology, the pleiades were the daughters of the titan Atlas who became stars following his entrapment under the earth. They are remembered for their beauty and loyalty. Myths of the missing pleiad explain why only six of the seven stars are visible to the naked eye. According to some sources, the missing pleiad is Merope, who was shamed out of the sky for her relationship with a mortal.

Minute Maid Park (206): The baseball stadium associated with the Houston Astros baseball team; it seats just over 41,000.

Politico (207): An American political opinion news source.

Drop-kick Murphys (208): An American Celtic punk band. (listen here and here)

The Klan (209): The Ku Klux Klan, an incredibly racist organization that has been responsible for the lynching of thousands of people of color.

Kim Nam-June (210): Kim Nam-Joon, known as RM or Rap Monster, is the leader and rapper of the K-pop group BTS.

Milwaukee (211): The largest city in and main cultural center of Wisconsin, which is a “swing state”, meaning that it could go either way politically in a national election.

Seth Meyers (211): An American talk show host and comedian whose creatively titled show, Late Night with Seth Meyers, is liberal-leaning. He hosts celebrities and often chats about politics or the news.

Clear Crystal Quartz (211): Apparently the most “iconic” crystal, it is believed to be able to help with clarity and the achievement of goals.

Wimbledon (213): The oldest tennis tournament in the world, considered by many to be the most prestigious.

Royal Box (213): The royal box at Wimbledon is a section of the best seats, reserved for royalty and specially invited celebrity/politically powerful guests.

David Beckham (213): A former professional soccer player and current fashion icon known for being hot and wearing nice suits.

McQueen (214): Alexander McQueen was an openly gay British fashion designer who rose from a lower class background to become one of the most famous designers in the world. Though he died in 2010, his brand continues to be known for unconventional fashion shows and theatrical imagery.

Dashikis (215): A colorful, ornate piece of clothing somewhere between a shirt and a tunic originally from West Africa.

Orangery (218): A very large greenhouse or conservatory designed for growing orange trees.

Woman at her Toilet (218): This painting shows a woman in her bedroom putting on her socks with a little dog next to her; you can see it here.

Baroque bed* (218): Baroque art was designed to show off a monarch’s power; it is incredibly extravagant (Versailles is pretty much the iconic Baroque thing; you can see more about it here).

The Killers (219): An American rock band formed in the early 2000s and known for having donated over $1 million to charity (they did “Mr. Brightside”). (listen here and here). According to McQuinston’s twitter, the song Henry plays is “When You Were Young”, which you can listen to here.

Dred Scott (219): In the 1857 Dred Scott v. Sandford case, the US supreme court ruled that the constitution did not extend to or protect Black folks.

Nina Simone (219): An American singer/songwriter/political activist whose music spanned a variety of genres and whose activism focused largely on the civil rights movement and was largely influenced by her “friend” Lorraine Hansberry, a Black lesbian playwright. (You know Hozier’s “Nina Cried Power”? She’s Nina) (listen here and here)

Otis Redding (219): Considered one of the greatest singers in American pop music and was one of the foundational soul artists in the US. (listen here and here)

Brahms (219): A German composer known for sticking to more classical forms of music while his contemporaries often leaned toward more dramatic or opulent styles. (listen here and here)

Wagner** (219): A German composer who wrote both the music and the librettos for his operas; his works tend to be very complex, and he has been credited with beginning modern music. (listen here and here)

Romantic (219): Artistically, the Romantic movement was a direct response to industrialization that called for a return to and celebration of nature. Queerness was very much a part of this movement, as it was seen as a return to or celebration of one’s natural state (think Byron).

War of the Romantics (219): A music history term used to describe the split between conservative composers like Brahms who wanted to stick with the Baroque, opulent styles of the past century and radical progressive composers like Liszt, who favored newer styles that blended music with narrative and morals.

Liszt (219): A Hungarian composer known for a diverse body of work and his position as the leader of the radical progressive group in the War of the Romantics. (listen here and here)

Alexander Scriabin (219): Russian composer known for his atonal or dissonant music. (listen to the piece Henry mentions here)

Elton John’s “Your Song” (219): A song written before Elton John came out, but with his queerness in mind. In a 2013 interview, John referred to it as “a perfect song”, and that the lyrics (written by Bernie Taupin) got even better as he got older and sang it more. (listen here)

Consecrated (220): made holy.

DNC (221): The Democratic national conference, when members of the Democratic (liberal) party get together to prepare for a presidential race.

College Republicans of Vanderbilt University (221): Vanderbilt University is a private (and therefore more expensive) school in Nashville, Tennessee. Its location in the South and its price tag would both mark it as being more conservative.

Cage match (221): A type of wrestling match that takes place inside a steel cage; the most common way of winning is by escaping the cage, usually by climbing over the top.

Paul Ryan (222): A conservative retired politician and former Speaker of the House.

The Second Amendment (222): The second amendment grants Americans the right to bear arms (have guns).

Salon (222): An American news and opinion website with a politically liberal editorial stance.

Air Force One (222): the president’s plane

“My Canadian girlfriend” (223): A running joke that someone (often a high schooler) whose partner goes to another school or lives somewhere else is made up.

Five Guys (225): Five Guys Burger and Fries is a popular fast food burger chain across the US.

Vampire Weekend (225): An American indie rock band.

The general (226): the general election in November, when Americans would vote for their president

Plainclothes (226): out of uniform

The Beekman (226): A very fancy hotel in Lower Manhattan, near the Brooklyn Bridge.

NATO (233): the North Atlantic Treaty Organization; an intergovernmental military alliance between 29 North American and European countries.

----

*every time I read this, I flinch just a little bit. Baroque architecture is just... so much, and the concept of a Baroque bed when beds/bedrooms are supposed to be simple to help you rest... It’s just so much and I hate it with all of my being. I’m sorry if you like Baroque furniture, but especially for Henry, who dreams of a simple life where he can just write and be anonymous... It’s a big yikes.

** Literally no one asked, but his stuff is just... it’s so boring? Like I’m sure it’s great to fall asleep to or calm down to, but I tried to listen to it while I wrote this and I just couldn’t. Liszt is better, but he’s no Mozart. Also? Mozart wrote BOPS. ONLY. “The Birdcatcher’s Song” slaps and no one can change my mind on that.

----

If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

—–-

Chapter 1 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 9

#rwrb study guide #English Major Brain™#English Major Brain™️#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb analysis #analysis #red white and royal blue analysis #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #alex claremont diaz #FirstPrince #june claremont diaz #bea fox mountchristen windsor #pez okonjo #nora holleran

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bandcampsnoop · 4 years

Audio

10/5/20.

Finally...a band I to which I often refer, buick, has reissued their only release in all of its glory. Originally released in 1992, this band was certainly a product of it’s time, but ahead as well. Yes, there are obvious (as the band concedes) nods to Sonic Youth. But there is so much more here. This was recorded well before the “formation of Mogwai, Godspeed You Black Emperor, Explosions in the Sky”. To me, this sounds as vital today as it was back in the early 1990s. In fact, Scott’s mentioned that his “favorite reference to possible influence[s] came from Thin White Rope's Guy Kyser when he stated after one of our shows, "You sound like Dick Dale with his brains knocked out." This is made all the more funny since I didn't know who Dick Dale was at the time.”

buick was Scott Lawrimore (guitar) and Jeff Clark (drums). While a drum-guitar duo isn’t weird today (Japandroids or No Age come to mind), in 1992 there wasn’t a band like them (maybe Spinanes...but not really).

Generally speaking, the band wasn’t entirely happy with the original mix - both felt it missed their quiet/loud arrangements. So, Scott enlisted John McEntire (Tortoise, The Sea and Cake) to remix.

But, only a guitar, and drums? How do you get this much out of two instruments. I asked Scott Lawrimore to comment:

How did you get the sound you did (on guitar)?Most cuts only have one guitar —like in our live performances—recorded in one take on two tracks. One mic was on a Fender Twin Reverb (made in the same year I was, 1970) in a large gym-sized room, and one mic was simultaneously capturing a 4x12 speaker cabinet in a small tiled bathroom. The bass and mids were turned waaaaay up, and the treble ratcheted down on the Twin to counter the jagged, jangling highs produced by the humbucker pickups on the Rickenbackers I used for most songs. Since we were just guitar and drums, all songs use open tunings and those bass-heavy amplifier settings to flesh out a ringing wall of sound behind the main guitar phrasing. I'm sure the tunings have official musical nomenclature, but I discovered them on my own through trial and error. As a self-taught, unconventional guitarist, open tunings helped me to 'find my sound' while also cutting me slack for not being anywhere near a virtuoso. There were four different guitars used for the album: a 1990 solid-body Rickenbacker 610 (for Lucy Conrad, Excellent Liar); a 1980 hollow-body Rickenbacker 330 (for Homage to Lucien Freud, Badhead, The Moon is Not a Yellow Sow, and Immortality); a 1970 Fender Jaguar (for Phrenology, and Brown Blackstars); and my first guitar, a sweet $100 pawn shop Les Paul copy (for Graves). The hollow-body Ric was my preferred guitar because it produced the most controllable 'voiced' feedback (a ridiculous amount, actually). Typically this would not be sought after, or embraced, but everytime you hear feedback on the album, it's intentional and coming from that 330. I always loved showing up to gigs with that guitar and the audience assuming we were going to whip out some Byrds or R.E.M. jangle, and then SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!!!—that first ear-piercing feedback driving half the audience out of the room...

Did Jeff just get to create his own sound?

Origin Story:[Scene opens on the crunchy, tabouli-stained Coffee House of UC Davis just before the summer break of 1990; Scott is behind a cash register wearing a t-shirt he recently spray-painted with the word "Hectic" under a smelly thrift store suit jacket three sizes too big; Jeff approaches wearing an On-The-Waterfront-leather-jacket over a 10,000 Maniacs t-shirt, his grease-slick-black hair partially hidden by a Stanford baseball cap.] Jeff [apropos of nothing in particular]: Wanna start a band? Scott [thrown off by 10,000 Maniacs shirt]: What do you play?J [confidently]: Nothing yet, but I'm going to teach myself to play the drums this summer.S [skeptically and expecting to maybe never see Jeff again]: Ok. Let's try to get together when you get back... Not-such-a-spoiler Alert: Jeff taught himself to play the drums that summer. Apparently he holed himself up in an unused bedroom of a house he was taking care of in southern California and tried to play along with the first two Throwing Muses albums that he had on constant repeat. Funny in hindsight that that is the band he chose considering what we ended up sounding like, but if you listen carefully to their songs like Call Me or Juno, you hear a lot of what was to become Jeff's rumbling tom work and syncopated fill sensibilities. In terms of whether I had a hand in Jeff's sound for our songs, the short answer is "no." When we played together for the first time, I had figured out all the parts for precisely one song—we called it First Song for a long time before naming it Homage to Lucien Freud for the original CD. For the opening chord progression, and just to get us started, I asked Jeff if he could play the drums of Sonic Youth's Tunic (Song for Karen) from the Goo album that had been released that summer. Of course he could. Perfectly. We played that six-chord progression three or four times through like we had been playing together forever when someone banged on the door yelling for us to "turn it fucking down." That was the abrupt end of our first session, but set the tone for everything that was to come... The fact that Homage to Lucien Freud now begins with Jeff's rumbling toms and bears little resemblance to Tunic is a testament to how all of our songs tended to evolve collaboratively. I would have a number of 'parts' or quiet/loud 'moments' or remedial-math-rock 'transitions' that I would play for Jeff and then he would figure out all the drum details for those sections. I had an ear and desire for song dynamics, but it was Jeff that perfectly filled and requited them. Learning those transitions and moments was key, but many songs had sections that we never played the same way twice—the call-and-response section starting at the 1:38 mark of Graves, for example, or the harmonics-to-mayhem-chord section starting at 1:54 mark of Badhead. When we played live, I would simply indicate to Jeff that a change was coming and he would be there with something amazing.

Scott Lawrimore is currently in London, UK (and has had a full career in art/curating/teaching), and Jeff Clark is in Ypsilanti, Michigan (and has had a full career as a graphic designer). This album was originally released on Lather Records (Sacramento, CA). The reissue is self-released.

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therealcalicali · 5 years

Text

An Inconvenient Wife

Imagine: Your life getting turned upside-down when the Gods see fit to use you as a source of diversion.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader and Reader x OC

Warning: Pure Angst

This is a gift for @tephi101

___________________

"I cannot believe this is happening." You vented as your husband Grimwald placed your combs inside a leather satchel. "That man is a monster! I swear on my father's grave, I'll kill him in his sleep. I’ll......I’ll gut him and leave him drowning in his own blood."

After tying the strings of the bag, your husband looked at you with great sorrow in his eyes. Always the introverted sort, he remained quiet. Although just as angry as you were, he was actually more heartbroken than anything else.

Simply put, Grimwald was beside himself with a pain that he couldn't put it into words. Meanwhile, you were busily cursing the King in your mind.

"How dare that cripple treat everyone like his possessions? Isn't it enough that he is King and a self-proclaimed God?" You thought. “His stupid mother cursed us all when she didn’t leave him to die!”

"Y/N, please don't say such things aloud." Grimwald pleaded before placing a hand on your knee. "Someone could overhear and report back to him."

"So let them! Why should I bite my tongue about that bastard?"

"You have every right to feel as you do but I'm begging you to hide your disdain. Trust me. I am working on our escape from Kattegat but we can't do that if you're dead. Remember, the King is known for his impulsive nature."

"Then that makes two of us. Let us see which one will win out in the end!"

"Y/N----"

Scrambling to your feet, you hastily made your way out of the humble cabin. You needed fresh air quickly before you either collapsed or went mad. This was your life and you had no desire to leave any of it behind.

________________________

Taking a seat on a tree stump, you noticed that after many cloudy days, the sun had finally shown itself. But you couldn't find joy in it because this was indeed the worst day of your life.

When it was announced that King Ivar was to take a second wife, you had found it amusing. The madman really thought he deserved not one but two women at his side. It was hilarious in your eyes. But other than gossiping about it with friends, you didn't really dwell on the matter.

Never would you have guessed that his decision would ultimately impact your life directly. But as your father always said, the Gods were ironically cruel.

A few months prior, you were happily assisting Grimwald in his jewelry shop when the King and Queen entered. Apparently, they were spending the day purchasing gifts to celebrate their third year of marriage. They browsed a while and after Freydis tried on a few rings, the King became belligerent.

Despite Grimwald being one of the most talented craftsmen around, Ivar scoffed at the collection. Going so far as to call the pieces "simplistic" in their design. He made more rude remarks before your temper eventually got the best of you.

Before you could stop yourself, you told the King to take his business elsewhere if he was so inclined. You also added that many wealthy patrons loved your husband's work so he was a liar with bad taste.

Was King Ivar ever furious!

The entire shop fell deathly silent as he stared you down as if he was going to kill you on the spot. Then, to everyone's surprise, he smirked before demanding that you to defend your statements.

More than happy to oblige, you praised Grimwald's work and spoke highly of all he had accomplished over the years.

Oddly enough, the Queen seemed amused and watched with great interest as you conversed with her husband. In the end, Ivar allowed Freydis to finish her shopping.

Little did you know that the chance meeting would have far reaching implications.

_________________________

King Ivar visited the shop numerous times afterward. Sometimes with the Queen in tow, but generally, he came alone. Strangely enough, he would go out of his way to engage you in conversation as he browsed. Most of the time, intentionally saying things to get under your skin. Naturally, you responded with your usual bluntness causing Grimwald to raise a brow often.

But that was the extent of it all.

It was a relief when the visits eventually stopped after some time. But then, one day, a messenger arrived at your home. To your horror, the man announced that King Ivar had chosen you to be his second wife. You were so hysterical, you unsheathed Grimwald's sword and chased the poor man off your property.

But despite all your loathing and rantings, the day had arrived. The King himself would soon arrive to escort you to his home.

"There you are." Grimwald said as he walked over.

He took a seat on the ground beside you and remained silent for some time. Eventually, he produced a blue velvet pouch from his tunic and placed it in your hand.

"What is it?" You asked.

"It's something I have secretly been working on. Go on. Take a look."

You opened the velvet pouch to reveal a leather necklace with a silver war-hammer pendant. The pendant itself was encrusted with an onyx stone and lovely pearl.

"It's so…..beautiful. I can't believe you actually used my idea."

"You should know by now that I’m a man of many surprises. Anyhow, let me put it on for you."

Grimwald stood and went behind you. After you handed him the necklace, he secured it in place before pressing his lips to your bare shoulder. You promptly turned to look at him, your eyes already welled with tears. Placing your hands on his cheeks, you studied every feature of your husband's face. From his intense eyes to the birthmark upon his temple - you admired it all.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat. When the two of you turned around, you were confused at seeing the Queen and some of her guards.

"Pardon the intrusion." Freydis said cheerfully. "Unfortunately, the King is indisposed so I have come to escort you instead. It's actually a blessing in disguise. The two of us can get better acquainted before you are formally presented."

Your teeth clenched as you fought the urge to split her head open with the nearby axe.

She behaved as if she was unable to see your misery. Before you could even get a word out, Ivar's men descended like locust. Some set about taking your possessions to the horse drawn wagon while others began forcing you toward the Queens carriage.

They were so pushy that you actually had to break free in order to embrace Grimwald one last time. As you held him close, you whispered that you loved him more than anything in the world. In response, he promised to secure passage out of Kattegat as soon as possible.

When you kissed him, the guards swiftly pulled you away. Within seconds, you found yourself tossed into the Queen's carriage and headed to your new home.

_________________________

Your head ached the entire journey. After all, holding in one's rage had a detrimental effect on the body. As for Queen Freydis, she was either unaware of your mood or simply ignoring it. She spent the ride educating you about Ivar's preferences and annoyances. Predictably, his list of annoyances was quite long.

After what seemed like hours, the procession ultimately arrived in front of the massive estate.

The sun was already waning when you were led indoors by a horde of awaiting servants. After you were given an uncomfortably warm bath, you were dressed in an extravagant gown. It was deep red in color with meticulous embroidery and a ridiculous amount of embellishments.

Most likely something chosen by the King himself.

When one of the Thralls tried to remove your leather necklace in order to replace it with an expensive one, you refused. There was nothing in the world that would part you from Grimwald's gift. Giving in, the women led you toward the Great Hall where Ivar awaited.

________________________

Other than the Queen, who was sat beside King Ivar, the only other people present in the Great Hall were guards.

"Please, don't stand so far away." Freydis beckoned. "There is no need to be to be afraid. After all, this is now your home."

"No, it isn't. You snapped. "I do not wish to be here."

Ivar's brow furrowed and he looked at you in a peculiar manner. However, he kept partaking of his mead.

"I understand that this must be difficult for you. We have uprooted you from your normal life." Freydis began with genuine sympathy. "But in time, you will get accustomed to this new life as well."

"With all due respect, my Queen, I will never like it here. I love my husband and I have no desire to replace him with anyone. King or otherwise."

"I expected you to say that." Freydis confessed. "But you should know that Ivar did not select you on his own. I had an ominous dream after our first meeting. So, in order to make sure that I had interpreted it correctly, I went to the Oracle. He also confirmed my thoughts. Afterward, I kept the revelations to myself. It was only a short time later that my husband told me of his intentions to take you for a bride. So you see, you were destined to be here."

You were growing tired of her attempts to convince you to comply. Queen Freydis may have enjoyed being the wife of Ivar the 'Boneless' but you had no desire for that title. As handsome as he was, you disliked him greatly. Not just because of the wars he had waged against his brothers but the tales of his infamous blood-lust.

"Enough of this talk." Ivar interrupted. He then passed his horn to a Thrall before looking at you again. "Y/N, come to me."

Hesitantly, you made your way up the five small steps and stood before the throne. With a smile, he looked you over before commenting that he truly liked the color red against your complexion. The compliment only made you angrier, however, you bit your lip to keep from speaking.

"I know it will take time for you to get accustomed such a drastic change. But it will happen." Ivar said as he took your hand in his. When you felt the roughness of his palms, you wanted to pull away. But instead of being so brazen, you focused your attention on a distant wall. "We just need spend more time together. That is why you will accompany me on the upcoming raids."

"What?" You exclaimed, your neck snapping in his direction. "Take Queen Freydis. After all, she is your adoring wife."

"As you will be, soon enough." He mocked. "And while we are on this subject, there is one rule you need to understand. My decisions are never to be questioned. Understand?"

"I won't go! I………I’ll...….I'll jump off the boat."

Ivar's serious expression quickly turned into a smile. Even worse, he actually chucked.

You had hoped that your insolence would cause him to have a change of heart. But in actuality, he found it much to his liking. In his eyes, you were a bit like Freydis. However, you were far more spirited and volatile than she was, and that enthralled him completely.

Pulling you to his lap, Ivar forced you took look at him. When you noticed the taunt in his eyes, you scowled.

"My King…" You pleaded. "I think it would be best if you found another to take as a wife. You see, I can never love nor care for you. It will never happen."

"And why is that?"

"My heart belongs to my husband. As strange as it may sound, I would never trade him for all the crowns or coin in the world."

"Is that so?" Ivar inquired as he held you closer. He then glanced at Freydis before giving you his attention again. "Tell me Y/N, do you not appreciate the fact that he still lives? Or are you so stubborn that you would prefer to see him dead?"

You stared at him, stunned by the thinly veiled threat.

The very thought of something happening to Grimwald because of your actions left you speechless. Tears fell as you realized that Ivar was not only cruel but highly manipulative. As for Ivar, he smirked and pressed his lips to your cheek, pleased by your silence.

In all honesty, everything was a game to the young King. And in that moment, he took pleasure in outwitting you. The vows had not even been exchanged and already, you felt hopelessly trapped. Could you really escape Kattegat as you and Grimwald had thought?

Only time would tell.

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#ivar x reader #reader x oc #reader x ivar x oc #ivar the boneless #ivars heathen army #ivar #ivartheboneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar fanfic #ivar imagines #ivar imagine #ivar x oc x reader #vikings fic #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #reader x oc x ivar

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babycakesdaydreams · 4 years

Text

"Just don't test the blade," Kern told John, handing him the bundle of leathers she'd brought from the wagon. "It's sharper than you'd expect."

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, pulling away the leather to find the sword underneath.

"You want me to learn how to use a sword?" Fandix asked, stunned. She'd been carrying one as a preventive measure, not because she was interested in the use.

"You shouldn't be carrying a weapon you don't know how to use," Zithsa said, from his place across the fire. "That's a good way to get yourself killed."

"It's not as if I'm starting fights, or running around by myself."

"Did you travel with an armed guard to the Dead Valley?" Jyonto asked. He was embroidering a black tunic, his needle flashing in the firelight.

"Most of the way," she said, blushing slightly. "But that doesn't matter, does it? I got there just fine, after all."

"Luck," Calystra said, a little grin on her face. She sat on the far side of Fandix from John, watching the boy inspect the short sword with obvious interest.

"Whatever," Fandix muttered. "Anyway, I'll stop carrying a weapon, if it makes you so unhappy."

"That isn't really the point," Kern said, throwing a reproving glance toward Zithsa. The man shrugged, turning his attention back to the wicked-looking knife he'd been sharpening.

"What is the point, then?" Fandix grumbled. She looked over at the sword, surprised at how elegant it looked. It hardly seemed like the kind of weapon a drab woman like Kern would carry. The pommel was orange, reflecting in the moonlight like a strangely colored opal.

"You're going to war," Kern said, somewhat dryly. "Don't you think you should know how to take care of yourself on the battlefield?"

"I won't be going to the front lines," Fandix said immediately, pushing down a flash of fear in the back of her throat.

"Yes," Kern said simply, "you will."

"I'll be leading the army," Fandix reminded her, talking slowly as if she were too dull to understand. "As will you, I hope. Leadership doesn't go to the front lines."

"Good leadership goes where the dying is," Zithsa said. For the first time since she'd met him, he looked completely serious. The glint of the knife in his hand sent a shiver down Fandix's back.

"Let it be," Kern said to him. "Duchess, it may be your intention to avoid the actual battles, but that isn't how it works. War is messy, dirty, and unpredictable. No amount of planning and careful attention will keep you from seeing blood. I thought you might have realized that the other night." Fandix swallowed again, the pile of dead bodies swimming before her eyes.

"I don't want to fight," she said quietly, hating how weak she felt just saying it aloud.

"You don't have a choice," Kern said, her voice surprisingly soft. There was a long moment of silence, as Fandix tried to come up with some argument to keep Kern at bay. When she realized there was nothing she could say, she sighed.

"Okay, but why do I need your sword? I have my own."

"Swords are designed for the person using them," Kern said, back to her near-emotionless voice. "The one you're carrying might be sized properly for Gerrod, but not for you."

"Are you saying I'm too weak to use it?" Fandix asked, faintly offended. "I'm stronger than I look, you know."

"So am I," Kern said, drawing her own sword. "Draw your sword, Duchess."

Fandix stood, doing as she'd been told. Kern led her away from the fire, to a clearer area near the tents. She raised her sword, and Fandix mimicked her, grimacing as the blade refused to cooperate. The pose Kern had taken looked easy enough, and her grip on the sword looked almost loose, as if it could be knocked from her hand with just a nudge. But Fandix found herself unable to mimic the easy stance, the tip of the blade invariably wandering downward.

"It's hard to keep the blade up, right? Part of that is because you don't have the strength, but part of it is the length of the blade itself." She reached out, gently taking the sword from Fandix.

Stepping away again, Kern raised this sword as she had the other. Her form looked almost identical, and she kept the blade up where Fandix couldn't, but there was a difference - that loose grip she'd had before was gone, her fingernails turning white as her fingers tightened on the blade.

"It's disproportionate," Kern explained, lowering the blade. "That makes it hard to work with, and unsuitable for a novice. The other blade is your size, and higher-quality, at that. Bring that sword over, please, Kid." John stepped away from the fire, presenting the sword to Kern sheath-first.

"Hilt-first," she corrected him gently, stepping around the sword to take it by the hilt. "Always trade weapons hilt-first."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, watching as she drew the sword. She handed the empty sheath back to the boy before returning to Fandix's sword, which she'd set in the grass. Waving Fandix over - and with John still hovering nearby - Kern lifted both swords side-by-side.

"Look at the blades," she said, turning them slightly so the setting sun lit them better. Fandix's blade was dull grey, and had a few small nicks in it There was even a hint of orange rust near the hilt. The other sword was a silvery-grey, shining brighter and with not a nick or rust speck in sight.

"What makes it silvery like that?" John asked, looking excited.

"The purity of the metal," Kern explained. "Ask Gerrod to teach you about it some time, he's better with metals than I am. Now, Duchess, lift this blade as you did the other." She turned the sword around, presenting the hilt to Fandix.

This sword had to be a third of the weight of the other one, even though the blade was only a little bit shorter. Kern resumed her earlier stance, drawing her own sword once more. John stood nearby, carefully inspecting the sword Fandix had been carrying for so long. Fandix lifted the new weapon easily, mimicking Kern's stance almost perfectly. She still couldn't manage the loose grip the other woman had, but at least the blade stayed up.

"Better?" Kern asked.

"Much," Fandix admitted.

"Then let's get started. Give John the sheath of your old sword. John, put that thing in the wagon, please."

Fandix shoved the pointy end of her sword in the dirt, pleased with the way it stood on its own as she removed the sheath from her belt.

"Now you have to clean the blade," Kern said, looking faintly amused.

"Guess I didn't think of that," Fandix admitted. John took off with the other sword, bringing it to Gerrod instead of the wagon. Looking back toward them, Fandix saw Gerrod set whatever he'd been working on aside, pointing to something on the blade in the boy's hand.

"The first thing we'll work on is your footing," Kern said, drawing Fandix's attention back.

Fandix had trouble getting up the next morning, groaning as every muscle in her body protested the previous night's training. They were on the last leg of their journey. The knowledge that they were so close to home may have been the only reason she was able to climb out of her blankets.

It was also her day to cook. She'd been told the night before by Zithsa, who had still sounded a little stiff after her comment about being on the front lines. She wasn't entirely sure why that comment had angered him so, but she was determined to make it up to him today. The only person friendlier than Zithsa in this odd collection of god-sent heroes was Calystra, but Fandix felt just a tiny bit closer to the spy. He'd been the first one to give her an honest, direct answer to her questions, after all.

The bacon was burning when Zithsa's tent flap finally opened, and Fandix was staring at it, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong. Burnt bacon was fine, though - she was trying to impress Zithsa, and he didn't eat meat. The porridge she'd been heating was on track, at least. She'd been very careful to keep stirring it, as Calystra had instructed.

"Good morning," Fandix mumbled, not looking up from the bacon.

"Good morning," the voice that answered was Zithsa's, and at the same time it wasn't. Confused, Fandix looked up - and blinked in surprise.

Zithsa was wearing a dress. What was truly odd, was how it didn't look odd. The dress was perfectly tailored, made of a soft yellow cloth that made Zithsa's skin tone appear warmer. It followed curves Fandix hadn't realized Zithsa had, and flared gracefully out at the hem. Deep brown embroidery, in a design she didn't recognize, ran in graceful patterns along the cuffs of the sleeves and the dress's hem. A hint of rogue was on his - her? - lips, making them look fuller. Even Zithsa's face seemed to be shaped differently, and Fandix recognized the magic that makeup could accomplish if applied correctly.

"I'm sorry-" she started, realizing she'd been staring.

"That's alright," Zithsa had a wicked look in his - her? their? - eyes. "I like being stared at."

John, who had been sleeping in Kern's tent since the raid, was standing half in and half out of the tent, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Kern, who had been washing her face at the creek nearby, put a hand on the kid's shoulder as soon as she was close enough to do so.

"Zithsen," she said, nodding at Zithsa. The change of names only served to confuse Fandix more. Had Zithsa been a woman the whole time?

"I-uh-" she didn't know what to say, or do. Fandix didn't want to make a scene - Zithsa was obviously just as comfortable in a dress as they'd been in leggings - but how was she supposed to address them? Was Zithsa now Zithsen? Should she refer to them as "Miss" now?

"In my native language," Zithsen said, dress lifting beautifully in the wind, "we use additions to the name, instead of your way of saying 'mister' or 'miss'."

"So, Gerrod would be 'Gerrod-sa'," Kern said. John straightened, blushing slightly and closing his mouth. He didn't stop staring, though.

"And you would be Fandix-sen," Zithsa said, smiling brightly. "Well, not really, there's another one for nobility, but that's beside the point."

"So... You're Zith...sen? Right now?" Fandix asked, only slightly less confused.

"Exactly!" Zithsen said cheerfully. "The same person, just using feminine pronouns."

"I think I understand," Fandix said, feeling a certain relief. At least now she knew how to address this new Zithsen.

"Maybe you do, maybe you don't," Zithsen said, that wicked grin Fandix had gotten so used to back in place. A small wave of relief hit her - this was truly the same person, even if she did look different. Zithsen sank down onto one of the logs they'd set by the fire, tucking her skirt under her gracefully. The relief was replaced with a tinge of jealousy as Fandix remembered how clumsy she could be in a dress.

"The porridge is burning," Kern noted, taking the spoon from the pot and beginning to stir. Fandix cursed, returning her attention to breakfast and mumbling apologies.

"I guess that means you're steering the wagon," Gerrod said, stretching as he stepped out of his tent. He wasn't wearing a shirt yet, and Fandix made a point to stare at the burning porridge instead of him. "No riding a horse in all that mess of cloth."

"You can still steer it," Zithsen said, sounding faintly alarmed, "I'll just ride with you."

"Not room for you, me, and the kid on that wagon, Zithsen," Gerrod said. he turned toward the creek, to wash his face as Kern had.

"Listen," Zithsen said, standing up. Her dress trailed behind her, more beautiful than it had any right to be, as she followed Gerrod toward the creek. "I'm no good at steering those things, and you know it! I only lead the wagon if you’re not around to do it-"

John was sitting on a log, watching Zithsen leave with the same wide eyes he'd had when he woke. Fandix nudged him with a foot, and he blinked, coming out of his reverie to look at her questioningly.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Fandix asked, somewhat pointedly.

"Yeah," John said, awe in his voice. Relief washed over Fandix again - he wasn't disgusted by Zithsen as she'd suspected. "She really is."

#writeblr #that was harder to write than expected #let me know how i did!#i was trying to establish that zithsa and zithsen are the same exact person #just gender fluid #if you're gender fluid and i messed it up or you think it could be worded better #please let me know!

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fernwehbookworm · 5 years

Text

Knight of Kandor- Chapter 21

We crested the hill. Prince Alexander on the horse next to me. He was in a variation of our DEO clothes that the Queen's Guard were given after their first day with us. The woman who made our clothes always put our needs first because of the protection we gave and we usually overpaid. We would still do it either way but it was the woman's way of showing gratification. We were wearing light gray tunics and pants, cowls up and cloaks fluttering in the breeze.

"You're sure he knows a way in. If the Queen has already heard of Lena's disappearance she will be on high alert. We will need every man possible because her personal guards are loyal only to her. She's made sure of that. They don't even train with the palace guards or share meals with others. My mother had always been a paranoid woman."

"No, but if anyone does, it's him." I respond to the princess' question. Everyone else was camped in a small shelter of trees about five miles back.

"Be safe. If we don't hear from you in two days we will assume the worst. Kal... I mean Kara, sorry that's still taking some getting used to. Thank you. For saving my sister."

"I would give my life for hers."

"You love her don't you?"

"Yes. With everything I have. I will serve her for the rest of my life." I feel the prince’s eyes on me but I can't meet them.

"I hope you get the chance to. Don't get caught." I nod and kick my horse into a soft gallop. Rao, I missed Comet. I felt awkward sitting on top of this horse. It was a simple working horse we bought a few days back for just this purpose.

I could see people streaming into the city. All with various packs or carts, either visiting or selling. Mostly it was farm folk or people from nearby villages. I caught up with a farmer in a hay cart and stopped him. I offered him the horse if he let me hide in the hay and kept it to himself. The man couldn't believe his luck. A horse would be invaluable, whether for work or to sell. I settle deep into the straw, near the back of the cart as the farmer ties the horse to it. Three more hours of slow progress, a cursory search of the cart, and then the farmer is in the city. Once clear of the gate he lets me know we are out of sight and I shake off the itchy straw. I shake his hand, pressing a small copper into it before disappearing into the crowd.

Getting on the rooftops is surprisingly easy. In Cadmium, the guards had begun being posted up there their once captains figured out what we were doing. Here, no one had a cause to look up. The walls at each gate were built to withstand a siege, not a lone climber. It was easy to find handholds. It does take most the remaining night to reach the castle. This wall has sentries on top so I have to watch their rounds a bit before sneaking past them. How more assassins didn't get in is beyond me. Then I realize that the Queen probably hired the ones that had. Softly my boots thud to the ground as the sun sets. I had long ago memorized the servant's passageways through the castle. I knew the one I needed was nearby.

I enter the outside door and find myself in a dark hallway. The torches hadn't been lit yet, good. My right-hand traces along the wall, counting the doors and hallways I walk pass before turning for the stairs. Torchlight flickers at the top and I duck backward into a large doorway and still my breathing. Two servants walk past, chatting and turn down the hall away from me. I hurry up the stairs as soon as their backs are turned. I only have to duck into hiding spots a few more times before I reach his room. I knock softly and receive no answer. Picking the lock is simple and I enter the dark room and sit on his simple wooden chair to wait. The moon has risen by the time the door rattles as the key turns. Before Winn can cry out, my hand is over his mouth, muffling his surprised yell.

"Relax, it's me," I whisper. I see the whites of Winn's eyes in the moonlight as they go wide.

"Are you going to scream or can I let go?" He shakes his head then nods it as best he can.

"Kara!" He throws his arms around my neck. I laugh and throw my arms around him.

"Hi, Winn."

"What are you doing here?" He turns to light his lamp with a flint and steel. He is much scruffier, and he seemed to be building some muscle like he was spending more time actually outside of the library.

"That is a very long story. Do you have wine in this poor excuse for a room?" Winn laughs.

"I do. You know I'm only here to sleep, and sometimes not even that." Winn head over to a small cabinet and pulls out a bottle and two wooden cups.

I start my story again for who knows how many times. Winn is a great listener. Commenting in all the right places, questioning things he doesn't understand, Winn was a curious person who never passed up an opportunity to learn.

"So we need to find a way to get everyone into the castle without anyone else knowing. I figured if anyone would know, you would."

"I might actually. But we will have to go to the archives tomorrow."

"Okay then, I need a couple hours of sleep first. We've been riding hard and my trek through the city wasn't easy." Winn stands up from where he was still perched on the bed while I sat across from him in the chair.

"Take the bed. I have a bedroll in the closet."

"No Winn I couldn't. It's your bed." Winn rolls his eyes.

"Kara, you have been sleeping on the ground for, what? Two weeks, at least. Take the bed. In the morning, I'll bring some food up here and then we will sneak you into the archives." My stomach growls at the mention of food.

"Yeah okay. But only because I haven't eaten in, umm, way too long. It was this morning before we left camp." Winn laughs and settles down in the bedroll he pulls out after extinguishing the lamp.

Getting to the archives was easier than it ought to be. Winn managed to swipe a simple dress from the clothesline and walked me in with my arm looped through his. If anyone cared we looked like a couple and Winn was simply showing me what he did. If asked, I would gush about how wonderful Winslow was and how smart and how he was showing me all his important work. The tale was easily believed by the little woman guarding the door to a cavernous room. Shelves soared above my head and lined the balconies above us. I hadn't spent much time here since ending my lessons with Winn a few weeks before my banishment. It was still a breathtaking place to be.

Winn dashes about, pulling books from shelves and stacking them on the table in an alcove where he left me. I begin scanning them as he gathers more and more, though there are only about twenty when he is finished. Most are history books that reference the building of the castle and its establishment as Krypton's capital. Winn is still a much faster reader than I am, even if I was better now. As book after book provides no answer, I begin to lose hope. Winn is on his eighth book when he starts to get excited.

"Kara, here. Here." He points to the page and I get up and cross to his side of the table to look over his shoulder.

"What am I looking at Winn?" I ask after a moment.

"Architecture plans for the city. In the moat, there are storm drains that help with rain and sewage runoff in the city. They lead from all over but most are too small for an average human, Except the main channel. It leads right under the main road. From just under the drawbridge to under the castle." As Winn talks, he flips through several pages, tracing an imaginary line at different points to follow the tunnel. Once I knew what I was looking at I understood it better. The intersecting lines were the streets as city planners were going to implement them. Most streets had drains marked to the main sewage line that was five feet wide and eight feet tall. It was to help with the torrential downpours during spring, where it would rain for days on end, channeling the water to the moat, then to the river.

"That's perfect Winn. How did the others not know about this?" Not wanting to say assassins but Winn seemed to understand.

"As far as I know, this is the only record of it. Also..." Winn frowns and concentrates on the page.

"Yeah, also the entrance under the bridge is high up from the water, on a slick cliff with heavy iron bars. Nearly impossible to access." I groan.

"Sorry, Kara."

"No, no. That's our best option right now. Let's finish these books. If that's all we have then we will have to figure out a way to get past those bars."

It was our only option in the end. Winn was disappointed. Even more so when I refused to stay another night. Now was my best chance to get out of the city. From the small pack I brought with me, I pull my mottled gray tunic and pants to dress in and rearm myself. I test the gauntlet blade and Winn's eyes light up as he watches me.

"What is that?"

"A friend invented it. You would like her. I think you two would be good friends. Maybe You can meet her someday. She's still back in Daxam though."

"I would like that. To meet all these new people in your life."

"You are still my first friend Winn. But yes, you should meet them, perhaps when all this settles down." I pull my hood up and adjust the fingerless gloves on both hands.

"Be careful sneaking out. The guards in the halls have been increasing."

"I'm not taking the halls," I say and I almost laugh at Winn's expression.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm taking your window." I pull out the climbing rope from the pack and use the special clip Felicity designed to wrap it around a bedpost.

"When the rope goes slack, real it in and keep it safe for me, okay?" I ask as I step up on his narrow sill and peer into the darkness, watching the guards' routes, nothing had really changed since I was here. Humans stuck to patterns. Winn swallows hard.

"Ah, yeah, s-sure, I can do that."

"Thanks, Winn, You are the best. Do me a favor and steer clear of the queen for a while. Maybe stay in the archives. Bye." I kiss his cheek and hop out the window.

It only takes a few heartbeats to reach the ground. Luckily Winn's room isn't very high and this time I didn't have another person. Six times I bounce slightly off the wall before my boots hit the ground. I release the rope and soon it disappears above me into the night. As soon as it is gone, I begin to sprint for the wall. Quickly I use the guard ladder to get to the top and wait for the one stationed there to turn his back. On the other side, I cast about for a way down. Nothing. Below me is the visiting dignitaries stables. It's dark except one lamp, illuminating the large pile of fresh straw. I glance at the guard, He is turning back this way, but the lantern in his hand blinds him past its halo of light. Well, Shit. Rao, protect me. I plead. I jump towards the hay, allowing my body to flatten in the air to distribute as much weight as I can.

I live. The wind is knocked out of me, but I live. All I can think about is how Alex will say how stupid and reckless it was but I am fighting the grin off my face at how scary fun it was. The other walls are much easier to pass, some rooftops are even an easy jumping distance from each. When Lena is Queen, I am going to have to have her let me work on these security issues, but for now, I thank Rao for them. When I finally scramble to the top of the outer wall I am exhausted. No guards are in the middle of this one. They stand spaced far apart, looking out at the plains for enemy armies. I pull off the backpack and pull out the last invention felicity gave me. She claims she tested it and it works but If it doesn't, I shudder to think of what happens to me. I sling the pack back over my shoulders and hold onto the handles as instructed. I sprint from the inner side to the outer, planting my foot on the ledge and jumping out into the air. I spread my arms and the parachute fills with air. It jerks in my hands and I almost let go. Suddenly, I am floating, flying like a bird. I catch a laugh in my throat as I sail across the moat and well off into the plains. I pull down a little on one side to turn towards the foothills that hide my friends. I silently thank Felicity for this wonderful feeling, and not letting me die. When I touch down again, the gate is too far for the men to see me. I begin the long trek back to camp, My muscles already aching and my stomach growling. I hear hoofbeats in the distance, I look up to recognize Alex galloping towards me.

"Need a lift?" she asks when she slows in front of me.

"Thank Rao, yes." I take her hand and she hauls me up behind her.

"I've been watching for you all night. You took longer than I expected."

"I told you two days. I'm early."

"I expected better." I almost protest until she turns just enough in the saddle for me to see her grin.

"I am too tired for this." I groan.

"Tired, not hungry?" My stomach growls in answer and I whine a little.

"That too." Alex reaches into a saddle bag and pulls out an apple.

"Let that keep you until camp. We have venison that John brought down. He had them keep some warm for you."

"Good boy. I taught him well."

"He isn't a boy Kara, He towers over you and is taller than me."

"He will always be one to me. Like a little brother." Alex just laughs and lets me eat my apple in peace.

I watched as my brother and the love of my life left the camp early in the morning on horses. I just kept thinking of Kara's beautiful blue eyes and how I hoped that this wasn't the last time I saw her. I hated that she thought she was the only one who could do this. John could go talk to Winn. But Kara was right. John was probably presumed dead and would have to try and lie his way past the guards and then back out again. I hated that she was right. I could feel Alex watching me as I placed near the common fire. Eventually, I gave up and went to pace in my brother's tent, away from prying eyes.

"Hey Lee, I'm back," Lex says as he enters the tent. I rush over to hug him.

"Whoa, I was only gone for a couple of hours."

"I know, but I've missed you so much, over the past couple of years really."

"I've missed you too Lee. And I have you all to myself for the day."

"Sorry about that Lex, Kara and I are very reluctant to be apart after everything." I sit in one of his two cushioned chairs, Lex follows.

"It's okay Lee. I understand. You really love her don't you?"

"Yes, Lex." He reaches over and grabs my hand.

"Don't take this wrong at all, I am so grateful for Kara and everything she has done for you, for our country, but have you thought of how our people will take this? How the council will react?" I sigh and look down, avoiding his eyes.

"I know. I have. I will find a way to marry her or I will not marry anyone."

"What about the throne?"

"I was hoping your children could take it." I look up at him hopefully.

"Lee, I don't want to rule. I never have, which is why mother's plan is so ridiculous."

"You won't have to. Just marry whoever you want, I could teach your daughter everything and when my time has come, she will take the crown. Look, I know you haven't thought much about a family but I'm sure if I could find a way to end the fighting then maybe you could find someone to love and eventually start a family. I'm sure you would want a son to teach and to take your place as the commander of the royal armies."

Lex grows silent at that. I can see him thinking, pondering what I said. He sits back in his chair. He looks so much like our father now. The lamplight casts a shadow on his face and I swear I'm eight years old again, watching my father lay battle plans out in his office. Then Lex smiles and the whole illusion is broken.

"Of course Lee. Let's get you on the throne first though. I'm with you. And you will marry that woman, I'll make sure of it." I grin at my brother.

"Thank you, Lex."

We sit and chat for a bit before having a lunch delivered to his tent. I did miss my brother. We spent very little time together when he was at the castle so we were making up for it now while the woman I loved risked her life for me. That dampened my spirits at spending time with my brother but it couldn't be helped. Kara insisted on doing this alone, much to her sister's dismay.

The hours crawled by as they waited for Kara's return. I knew that she shouldn't be back for two days but this was near unbearable. I slept fitfully in my brother's tent, spending most the night staring up at the canvas ceiling wondering where Kara was now. Morning came with the first cup of coffee I had had in weeks. Lex had a small store of the ground beans taken from a Cadmus camp some weeks ago. Simple army rations accompany it but the rich flavor of the dark liquid was very welcome. Another day of waiting and watching the DEO spare with each other. The women were quite good. It was like watching water dance in a current as they flowed around each other. Men stopped to watch until being yelled at by superior officers to continue their own training or duties.

John returns at some point with a large buck draped over his shoulders and he began the gruesome task of cleaning and cooking it. The roasting meat fills the camp as I sit and read one of Lex's few books. Suddenly I realize that night has fallen and most people sit around eating. My eyes ache from reading in the uncertain light as I stare up at Maggie, she is handing me a plate of steaming venison.

"Hey, little Luthor. How are you doing?" My eyes widen at such an informal greeting but Maggie's smile makes it clear that it is in good heart.

"I've been better. Actually, I'm not sure if I have been better. But I'm worried about Kara."

"Yeah we all are, Alex already snuck off to watch for her. I know they aren't actually sisters but Alex always wanted one. The moment she saw Kara fight in the fighting pits she knew she had to save her. Alex was there right before Kara. She was arrested for stealing from a guard and was thrown in. She had to kill a couple of the beasts down there before we were able to save her. Alex told me, as soon as she saw the determination in Kara's eyes, she knew Kara would change everything."

"Kara never told me that."

"I don't think Alex told her. But look what Kara has done. That girl will change the world, I just know it." Before I can respond, there is a small commotion at the edge of the camp. Alex rides in with a half-asleep Kara clinging to her back. Maggie quickly stands and pulls Lena up with her.

Maggie helps Kara down from the saddle and into Lena's waiting arms. Lena buries her face in Kara's shoulder as Kara rests a cheek on top of her head. Lena can hear movement behind her and Kara pulls away, only keeping hold of Lena's hand, before bowing.

"Prince Alexander," Kara says. The whole journey north had been odd. Kara seemed like a new person for the most part. But whenever Lex came around, it was like all the training as Kal resurfaced, causing Kara to become an emotionless soldier once more.

"Kara. I'm glad you have returned safely. Please, grab something to eat and then meet me in my tent. Bring the DEO, John, and my sister as well so we can discuss what you found out." Lex was just as odd as well. Overly polite and trying to avoid formal. That is why I hadn't spent much time with my brother on the trip, it was always an awkward interaction to watch. I walked with Kara to get food and steadied myself for a long night of planning.

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #medieval #knight #au #assassin #KoK

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