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achillieus · 3 years

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let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, don’t kill me because of the ending, sebastian and reader are the definition of right person wrong time, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, also this part has some funny moments but overall it’s a big SOB

part: 6/6 (there will also be an epilogue)

(other parts) (masterlist)

This is how it ends: broken hearts from crashed dreams.

Sebastian holds you until his muscles ache and your lungs burn from the feeling of too little oxygen. It is cold and dark, almost midnight, too dark, a starless night.

No more stars for you and I.

“Here,” Voice hoarse, eyes heavy-lid and itching from almost crying. He gives you one of the rings he wore in the movie. “I want you to keep this.”

Keep it close to your heart. Forget me not.

He takes a breath and a step back, tries to regain all the strength he still has, steady feet and shoulders fixed. He digs his nails into his palms, red marks in his skin, air catching in his throat, he’s on the verge of falling but he stays standing.

He remembers tears glistening down his cheeks, maybe they were yours not his, and the cold autumn wind hitting his face and he remembers feeling like he’s dying.

And then he closes the door of Argyris’ car and looks at you.

And his heart stretches and stretches and stretches and then somehow splits in half.

It goes like this:

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment from now on. In the living room. Sitting on the couch. And it has steel blue eyes and a familiar heart. And it whispers a love story, half-finished, and you cannot make it stop.

The ghost touches your collarbone and he’s gone but there’s a ring in a golden chain around your neck and a white shirt forgotten in your laundry. And it smells like him. The clinging scent of his aftershave sticking to your pores. Eucalyptus. And no matter how hard you try to wash it off, it still lingers.

How could I ever forget someone like you?

The ghost lives here, but the place is empty, so empty. And it’s hard not to cry.

Sebastian calls and texts a lot.

He tells you he’s tired but excited because he started filming a new movie. It’s very indie and experimental, I can’t wait for you to see it. He tells you he’s missing his days in Greece like hell and that one night he dreamt of you. Didn’t want to wake up. What he doesn’t tell you is that he’s coming back in a month, Argyris needs him for some extra scenes. It’s nearly killing him but he doesn’t tell you. He wants to surprise you, see the pure light in your eyes when they’ll meet his.

You try sexting. It doesn’t go very well.

23:50, sebastian: if you were here in my bed right now what would you be doing

06:51, you: probably falling asleep hahaha

06:51, you: oh fuck was i supposed to sext back

06:51, you: sorry seb i just woke up and i have a class in an hour, love you <3

23:52, sebastian: fuck timezones

(three weeks and 10 seconds later)

“I can’t believe she doesn’t know you’re here,” Argyris shakes his head as he’s driving home from the airport, “If I were her, I’d kill you.”

“Good thing I didn’t fall in love with you.”

Sebastian laughs and looks out of the car window. The stars. There are so many stars tonight. He holds his breath; he’s finally feeling whole again. His heart isn’t split in two anymore.

You don’t know how long you stand there at your door, staring at him, but it feels like a century before he grins, almost laughs, takes your hands in his and you start considering that perhaps this isn’t a hallucination. Perhaps it’s real.

“Surprise?”

Something inside of you bursts, your organs twitch. You can’t think, you can’t speak, but you can move. You don’t lose any more time, you take a step forward, attach your bodies, your face buried in his neck, your fingers clutching into the rough fabric of his jacket. You breathe him in like an antidote.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

You kiss him and it’s like poetry, like art, like honey and you can’t separate yourself from him, not even hours later.

(looking back, these were the golden days)

You pretending to be mad at him for not telling you he was coming back and him pressing his lips on your skin, drawing patterns on your naked shoulder. A feathery touch.

Sebastian always touches you like you’re something made of gold and porcelain, something cherished that constantly needs to be treasured. And nobody has done that before. And you love him for it.

You try to decorate your Christmas tree together. He messes with the lights for a while, eventually gives up and goes on to eat too many reindeer shaped cookies.

He massages your muscles when you write a boring essay for college.

You go with him when he has to shoot a “driving a motorcycle naked in the centre of Athens” scene and you bite the inside of your cheeks to stop smiling like an idiot.

He gives you a dress he bought for you in New York.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

He calls you sweetheart in the mornings, still half asleep and later joins you in the shower.

“Why are you so hot?”

“Climate change”

“Oh, shut up”

It’s tender and it’s soft and it’s human.

And that’s the saddest part.

Soon you realize that him leaving two months ago was merely a rehearsal and you still haven’t said your actual goodbyes. Your chest starts to feel as if it’s full of crushed glass.

And it’s ridiculous because you fell in love with Sebastian sometime between the first ten days you spent together.

Who falls in love in ten days?

Ridiculous or not, you know you are in love with him just as you know that sooner or later, whatever he is feeling will fade and wither. Maybe it’ll be in a week, maybe it’ll be in a month, maybe in a year if you’re lucky. But there will definitely come a day when he will step out of a gala or a party or a fancy gym in New York with a beautiful model in his arms and two paparazzi’s following him around.

What will you be then?

A past small cameo in his life. A side character. Will he remember your name?

He is your whole world.

(a bottle of cheap prosecco helps you decide that)

He is your whole world.

And yet, there will come a day when he won’t even remember your name.

It was difficult. No, it was the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. Telling him how you think it’d be better if you didn’t talk after he leaves.

“I don’t agree with this.”

“Seb, it’s for the best.”

Your body doesn’t feel strong enough to carry your heart. And you’re certain it will only get worse once he’s away. The world around you will melt. You’ll obsess over a phone screen and his messages. You’ll start chasing ghosts again. You can’t handle that.

“Why?” He says urgently and his fingers dance over the flesh of your palms.

“Because this”, you motion your hand between the two of you, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my life and I don’t want it to become ugly.”

He nods, he understands.

“I love you, you know,” he says smiling and tugs you closer to him, “And I may not be here to show you but I think I’ll love you for a long time.”

Your hand grips his waist right to the bones and something flares in your eyes, something wild that wrenches you around.

“I know, I’ll love you the same.”

“Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Only if I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.”

He laughs and you look at him, fully aware he’ll be ripped out of your life like a page from a cheap leather notebook. And when you kiss for the last time, there’s a hole forming in your soul.

And just because endings don’t leave visible scars to one’s body and soul, that doesn’t mean the scars don’t exist. You know they do, because you feel the aching pain of every single one of them.

(every night when you close your eyes you see him)

(every night you look at the stars and think of him)

A month passes and Argyris asks you if you miss him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“He said the exact same thing.”

You tell him not to mention Sebastian again.

Two months pass and you need to stop stalking his instagram profile.

Three months pass and you almost text him.

Four months pass and you go to watch Endgame with some friends and you cry. You cry when Black Widow sacrifices herself and when Iron Man smiles at his wife while dying, and when Bucky Barnes appears on screen.

The others don’t understand and you don’t blame them.

Five months pass and Argyris’ girlfriend wants you to meet someone. A charming boy your age with blonde hair and a lip piercing.

And he's cute but you compare him to Sebastian even before he has the chance to say his name. His eyes are not the right shade of blue and he doesn’t look at you like you’re made of the world’s finest jewel.

And he doesn’t know any constellation names.

And then more than a year passes in a second and you learn to not look for him. Not anymore.

It’s early March 2020 and despite the rising fear of the upcoming pandemic, you’re doing well. Scars are starting to fade. And after spending two weeks in Prague, your best friend being there with an exchange program, Sebastian Stan is the farthest thing from your mind.

Until he literally comes crashing into you. At the airport.

No, it can’t be him.

You have your suitcase on one hand and a bottle of antiseptic gel on the other. He has two bodyguards on his sides and a black hoodie on. And while half of his face is hidden behind a mask, you can see his eyes perfectly. A frozen lake in December. You would know those eyes in your deathbed, at the end of the world.

Your vision gets blurry and suddenly you feel cold.

He won’t recognize me, he can’t.

But then he looks at you and every memory you had buried inside of you resurfaces.

He motions to his guards to wait for him and he starts walking towards you. You breathe slowly, one breath at a time. He takes his mask off and you hesitate to take yours, not sure if you truly want him to see you.

You exchange the typical and very awkward hi, how are you, i’m glad you’re doing okay and then he smiles and it feels comfortable. Familiar.

It’s the whiff of another time that you always kept around. A reminder that you were once loved by a god.

“What are you doing here?”

“Filming Falcon and the Winter Soldier”

If you hadn’t unfollowed him on instagram, you’d known.

“Ah yes I heard about that, congrats.”

He nods a thank you.

“And you? In Prague?”

“I was at a friend.”

He looks conflicted, hurt, turns his gaze to his shoes on the grey cement. You want to say something, but you feel like throwing up.

And then he laughs.

“I was right.”

You’re confused, he notices.

“Back in Greece,” he swallows, “I told you this would happen.”

“It would have been an airport, different gates for each of us, but same waiting hall. Or a Greek island, where we’d both be for the summer.”

“I would have found you.”

You remember and you cannot help but smile. He was right. He found you.

“I didn’t believe you then.”

I barely believe you now.

He touches your hair. And his touch is like a knife. And you want to cry. Magnolias under your tongue. A love long lost is whispering in your ears until it hurts to listen. He’s like a magnetic field and you feel yourself drowning in him.

“I bet they’ll ask me a hundred questions about you later.” He says and looks at the two men waiting for him.

“And what will you tell them?”

“That you’re most probably the love of my life.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“There’s no way we’d meet here if you’re not.”

“Sebastian,” His name sounds like a prayer coming out of your lips and you're ready to tell him you love him and you can swear he looks like he’s ready to faint, “I-”

The guards yell his name. And it's the same feeling people have just before a car crash.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

One last look.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

You repeat it over and over again. But you fail.

“No, don't cry” He smiles, one last smile, “Just look at the stars and wait for us to meet again, because we will.”

He caresses the back of your palm for a second and you think your ribcage is shattering but it’s only your heart drumming frantically. Pushing your fragile bones to break.

You want to stop him, wrap your arms around his torso, never let him go. Not again. But you don’t.

You just watch him leave, one more time, your knees weak, your head heavy and dizzy. For the split of a moment he turns and glances at you but then he’s nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it was all in your imagination. Perhaps it was nothing but a wonder.

You get into your plane and you silently sob.

And then it’s summer.

And you overhear he was seen with a girl, the day before your vacation starts and you find a picture of them together a week later, a pretty blonde girl clinging to his side with a colorful bikini somewhere in Spain. And he’s smiling. And you feel so ashamed. And so stupid.

They say time heals all wounds but they must be wrong because you can’t forget how he used to smile at you or how he used to call you the love of his life.

Was he joking when he said you'll meet again? You bet if you asked him now, he wouldn't even remember saying it.

I’ll love you for a long time.

So long for nothing.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :) also i’m really sorry if you asked me to tag you and i didn’t but i lost a lot of asks and the urls of the people that sent them :(

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy @christinamcdonnell @partypoison00 @90ssantiago

#sebastianstan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #letyoudown #monday the movie #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader

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vkelleyart · 3 years

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Thoughts on fandom: inclusion and engagement.

(Art credit to the kindhearted @penpanoply!)

There’s been some stuff floating around on Tumblr about strife in the CO/WS fandom, and though I haven’t been explicitly named-dropped on anything public, my DMs have been... active. lol Rather than rehash what’s been said already, I just want to impart a little wisdom and perspective in the hopes it may soothe frayed feelings and offer a way ahead for cultivating a respectful community. As someone who has been an active participant in online fandoms since the mid-’90s, which was the advent of online fandom content creation (shout out to my fellow X-Philes!), and who has also spent a chunk of her professional life managing social media for the federal government and for activist groups, I can promise you it’s all gonna be okay.

Here’s some context for why strife happens and what we can do to create a more inclusive and communicative fandom environment.

1) It sounds cliché, but fandoms go through growing pains.

In the case of the Simon Snow fandom, what was once a small and cozy space untouched by cataclysmic events (such as the release of *gasp* a sequel) has grown exponentially in a relatively short amount of time following the release of Wayward Son. Newcomers are eager to find a home in this space at the same time as folks who’ve been here a while may be consciously or unconsciously wary about widening their circle, and It’s important to remember that this is not necessarily an expression of bad behavior on either side but just human psychology doing its thing.

The byproduct, however, is that tension and stress builds over time from the lack of meaningful communication across the divide, which subsequently fuels misunderstandings. Ironically, the interfaces we use to communicate don’t help with this because any existing communication about the tension happens in tiny vacuums until a trigger goes off and bad feelings go public.

Way Ahead: These moments of destabilization are opportunities to see where we can be more self aware about how we engage with fandom and the kind of community we want to be. Can you promote, support, or befriend someone trying to gain a foothold? If yes, please do! Each person must reach their own decision about what they can do within the confines of their available energy, health, and time, but a little self awareness goes a long way as long as you’re honest with yourself and others if applicable about what you can contribute. Anyone who judges you for it isn’t worth the strife.

2) In a fandom comprised of vulnerable/marginalized people, it’s more accurate to say that cliques are “bubbles of trust.”

This one's important. Just by nature of the source material, the CO/WS fandom includes fans with a wide array of backgrounds and experiences, especially when it comes to those who identify with the characters’ queerness, mental illness, and/or trauma. I really believe––based on individual conversations/group chats––that the difficult lived experiences that so many of our fandom peers have endured has produced one of the most open, aware, and accepting fandoms I’ve had the pleasure of participating in. Our vulnerability is, in a real way, our strength.

That said, a community of survivors also has the side effect of cultivating small circles of engagement that I call “bubbles of trust.” When you’re a survivor of abuse, marginalization, mental illness, fill-in-the-blank, it’s often quite hard to risk casting a wide net and expanding your circle to include new faces––which can subsequently be internalized by equally sensitive and vulnerable newcomers as rejection, judgement, or inadequacy.

Way Ahead: First of all, there may indeed be gatekeeping and exclusion going on. But before internalizing someone’s cagey behavior as gatekeeping or purposely exclusionary, ask yourself if you have all the information. Many people are private (I include myself in this assessment) because life has regrettably taught them to be this way, and so they may insulate themselves to a small group of people who have earned their trust. Some people might also triggered by certain content (case in point: smut triggers my anxiety) so they don’t engage with it. Others might have something in their pasts that define how they handle certain subjects (for example, a person of color should not be tone policed for getting angry when confronted with a racialized microagression, however accidental it was). You just don’t know what you don’t know.

The solution here is to regularly check your privilege and ask questions in a private space if you sense you’re being treated unfairly by someone. If you go public with your grievances in hopes of mobilizing the mob, you may accidentally find yourself stepping into the role of the aggressor instead of the victim.

3) Social Media is not built to help you get engagement. It’s built to help itself make money off of you.

Repeat after me: Hits/likes are not a measurable indicator of talent or worth. There are ridiculously talented folks on Tumblr and elsewhere who, for whatever reason, haven’t had their viral moment, and it’s not their fault. Loads of factors come into play where things like likes, reblogs, and comments are concerned, among them being posting frequency, subject matter, the time of day, the day of the week, the week of the month, the month of the year, the current administration, the stock exchange, the concentration of middle class users, who just won the Superbowl, a madman trying to steal an election and undermine the democratic process, a PANDEMIC, do you get where I’m going with this?? lol

At the end of the day, my humble successes have been helped along by good luck, good timing, high profile signal boosters, and an absurd amount of work. (This is why I try to signal boost new work whenever I get a chance over at @vkelleyshares.)

So while you cannot control Tumblr’s interface, trends at large, or your fellow users, here’s what you can do to ensure you give your work the best possible chance of exposure.

Have an image ready to go with your post. Tumblr is a visual platform (no matter what it says about being good for text). Not good with images? Set up a Canva.com account and get access to free graphic software with a gazillion templates to create whatever attractive image you want to attach to your post.

Keep the outward facing text brief and easy on the eyes. Too long and eyes will glaze over. Put excess text behind a “read more.”

You may think you’re being cute when you do this, but don’t put yourself down in your posts. (Don’t put yourself down in general, of course.) Doing so acts as engagement repellant. If you don’t believe in your work, no one else will.

Related: Be your best cheerleader. Confidence is a magnet, and if you don’t have it, go ahead and fake it until you start to convince yourself you are worth the buzz. So promote yourself! You have gifts that only you can impart. Use that knowledge to fuel everything you do from your art/fiction writing to your outreach with other content creators, and by golly, if someone’s done it already, acknowledge that contribution and then tell the world that this is YOUR unique take on it.

Treat your fellow fandom creators as human beings, not art/fiction/content boosting machines. I cannot count how many times I’ve had folks slide into my DMs with offers of friendship only to disappear once they realize I’m not available to draw a picture for their fic. It hurts because it’s manipulative and it makes me want to hole up and not signal boost anyone. Creators who truly support each other will not give off a transactional vibe. I want to help you reach more people, but not if that’s all I’m good for in your eyes.

The long and short of it: Lead with compassion, do your best with the opportunities at your disposal, and remember that fandom belongs to everyone in it. ❤️

What saves a fandom made of sensitive and vulnerable souls from imploding when it goes through growing pains is radical compassion from those who can offer it. Begin with the assumption that your fellow fandomers are not trying to harm you, and wade into the water knowing that your insight into the lives of your peers is limited by default and you may need to temper your words or actions accordingly. If you’re a content creator, save compassion for yourself as well, as there are indeed challenges to gaining an audience, and lack of engagement does not mean you lack talent or skill. Be your best advocate, and if you have the bandwidth to lift up a fellow creator and make a new friend, please, go ahead do it!

And finally, fandom belongs to everyone, and no one has a monopoly on characters, tropes, or themes. Create and consume what you love (with respect for your more vulnerable peers), and bask in the variety, my friends!

That’s all I’ve got in my head at the moment, although I’m sure there’s more I’m forgetting. Thanks so much to @penpanoply for letting me use her art for this and to everyone else, hang in there and try not to judge each other too harshly. These are unprecedented times, and most of us are doing our best in circumstances that are pushing us to our limits.

As always, if you have questions or want to sound off on anything, shoot me a message or an ask, or ping me on Discord. It might take me a second to respond (thanks, Covid) but I’ll get to it! Love, love, and more love to all.

#fandom stuff

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riddlecrux · 3 years

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Rosehall

Day 1 of Elriel Month is here! Summary: He knew that Rhysand's orders weren't fickle nor laced with lies, yet he couldn't phantom how his brother turned on him. How he, of all the people, couldn't understand how badly he wanted to be happy.

You can also read it on ao3!

They didn't talk.

No shy glances, no accidental touches while passing each other through the corridor, no warm smiles behind the rim of a wine glass. Even the silence in which he was sitting was unbearable, so different than the one that carried comfort and jasmine scent that always made him content, whole, at ease. Now, sitting alone on the fine chair in the House of Wind he was barely breathing. He was suffocating with loneliness, heavier than the one that crawled through his bones in that dark cell from his childhood. A real pain exploded behind his closed eyelids.

The night air pricked on his face as he tried not to think, not to feel. It was as if the gaping hole in his chest was a thing of his own shadows - swirling inside, eating him out and leaving only shreds of his broken emotions. He tried. He tried so desperately not to fall for her. For yet another unattainable person that was next to him just to mock his misfortune. It was something completely wrong. How one can take so many failures and still delude himself that maybe this time the ending would be different.

He was such a damned fool.

Azriel opened his eyes as a sharp pang in his chest enveloped him in another wave of utter bitterness and helplessness. The thing with Elain was something he hadn't expected - she came into his life wielding a fork and suddenly he could see clearer than ever before in his life. How sun caught in her golden-brown hair and how the freckles on her left cheek created a small triangle. And the way all that loveliness faded away when she was stripped of her own free will - and how he failed her at that moment. The arrow to his chest didn't hurt as much as her screams. The terror of them was still haunting him during long nights of insomnia and half slept nights.

And there was that companionship they formed. Based on silence and gardens. Teas full of leaves and sticky fruit floating on its surface. Elain always preferred her to drink sweet, even if her nose scrunched each time she sipped from a porcelain teacup - pale pinky held in the air as if she was still a lady in a room full of liars and men trying to woo her. Maybe during those moments of tranquility between them, he started to appreciate her gentleness even more.

Their meetings slowly but surely transformed into nights full of sleeplessness and sore throats - silence turned into constant chatter about everything and nothing. The first time he heard her giggle his world turned upside down. In that particular moment she was all he saw, in all her golden glory and chocolate smear on her chin - so warm and bright, so out of his reach. A secret. His secret, a memory to be locked inside his mind's labyrinth.

Sometimes he wished that both of them stopped before they had even begun their… relationship. Because maybe if he possessed more self strength and if he was less selfish, he would have protested when Elain touched his hand while they were resting in the garden. Or when he caressed her cheek while trying to get rid of the soil splattered there. Whenever they touched Azriel felt as if he was healing. These small palms that traced ridiculous figures on his scarred hands brought him comfort no one else did. A touch so tender that he wanted to break in halves only for her to mend him again. She was nothing like him and at the same time so familiar, so understanding. When she looked at him with her brown eyes full of terrors and beauty, he knew that she could see his soul. Every ugly part of him. And she never averted her stare, never flinched from his touch - she wholeheartedly accepted him.

Sighing out loud his wings twitched behind him when his eyes darkened once again. He knew that Rhysand's orders weren't fickle nor laced with lies, yet he couldn't phantom how his brother turned on him. How he, of all the people, couldn't understand how badly he wanted to be happy.

"Long night?" He snapped his neck at the voice and inwardly relaxed seeing cold silver eyes staring at him without fear.

"I suppose so," shrugging his shoulders he turned back toward the city, one hand still on the glass of strong alcohol he was pouring into himself for hours. A screech of a moving chair resonated next to him and with a slow exhale he sipped his drink.

"Not the fire this time," Nesta huffed and he saw in his peripheral vision that she poured herself a decent shot as well. "Both of you are the same," a small smile ghosted on her lips before she drank the brownish liquid in one go.

"Me and who?" He knew playing stupid wouldn't work on her but he was so tired. He had already lost, so Nesta seeing him at his worst would be nothing in comparison to the thunder inside his mind. The oldest Archeron sister let out a dry chuckle which indicated that she was aware of his silly attempt of deflection.

"Elain," her name awakened something inside him. Like a golden tether holding him upwards, longing after the female that brought up such emotions from him. "She used to glow these days, you know," he saw her playing with the rim of the goblet. Long finger stopping suddenly as if the glass burned her. "I know what happiness looks on her, and whenever both of you interacted or spent time together she was always… so bright. So alive," his heart thumped a few times before it gave him a painful tug. "The moment you saved her life was the first time I had wished that you were her mate," the wound opened again, a small sound escaped his mouth before he slumped forward. "But fate isn't so merciful. Yet, Elain made her own way in this life. I saw how she escaped that empty shell she used to be and how she learned to breathe again… with you ," Azriel wanted her to stop. To let go of this torment she was exposing him to.

"I can't listen to this," he stood up, his wings stretching to its whole span. "You know it's impossible," his bitter laugh echoed in the interior. "We both know that it doesn't matter if I have feelings for her," he was ready to fly away when Nesta's hand caught his elbow. Silver eyes shone in the darkness of the night with ancient power.

"It's her choice," she whispered. "She doesn't want her mate, she has never wanted that bond," her grip loosened for a bit and he was tempted to run away but her expression held him in one place. "But she wants you. She chose you. And you know it because I saw how you look at her, how both of you glance at each other," she pinched him when he was composing himself from snapping at her. "Ask her. Ask her about what she wants. Take her to the place where it's just both of you, so no one can interfere," her nod was final and with it, she slowly turned around and vanished upstairs. His jaw hurt from the force he was clenching his teeth. Nesta's words were a poison that circulated through his bloodstream.

Could he have that conversation?

Could they possibly be together?

The night air was cold against his burning skin when he shot up in the sky, wings outstretched and tense.

He landed on her balcony.

The beige curtains were dancing in the air, metal dreamcatcher swaying on the wisps with a soft melody. There were plants and flowers scattered around the balustrade and his shadows skittered around them, leaping into petals and leaves before returning to his form. He stopped beside the wooden table to see half-finished tea and some papers - a few of them with drawings of different gardens, trees, and notes about the seeds. However, what caught his attention was a stash of papers with Elain's handwriting. All of them were thrown around the surface with drops of tea marking some of them. There were letters forming sentences, he could pinpoint some of them, ones that weren't completely crossed out in the pale moonlight. He was about to touch one scroll with his name on it when his shadows whirled around him with a soft warning.

"Spying on me?" The sweet scent of jasmine and honey embraced his person as his hazel eyes blinked at the sight in front of him. Elain was in a white nightgown, tiny ribbons on her freckled shoulders were something he didn't know he needed to see in his life. Her loose hair was curling at its edges as the tresses touched her middle. She was watching him, big brown eyes stoic and unnerving.

"No," he breathed and her smell attacked his senses, driving him crazy. She crossed her arms under her breasts and padded towards him. Her feet stopped next to him and with a lazy movement, she gathered her papers without glancing at him. He could see her nape, soft and pale and so inviting as she leaned across the table. His fingers curled into fists when her presence burned his self-resilience.

"Do you need me for something?" She inquired letters in her grip and a slight frown on her perfect face.

"Actually," his shoulder tensed when she shot him a questioning glance. "Yes, I need you," he left it there. A pause and weight of his words, waiting for the judgment and perhaps hatred. But it never came as Elain silently turned to him, her lips parted and a soundless sigh ghosting in the air between them. She peered at him, irises wide and somewhat gentle before she touched his biceps and he was ready to be undone.

"We should talk," her breath tickled his skin as he nodded without thinking twice. "Here?" Her question woke him up and trying not to scare her, he offered his scarred palm while stretching out his wings.

"There's a place I want to show you," his words echoed in the dead of night and as her small fingers wrapped around his hand he could finally breathe again.

When they arrived the moon was high in the sky, its light reflecting on the waters of a marble fountain in front of the manor. He exhaled letting Elain down as she politely exchanged her thanks. She pried her hair from the face and with newfound excitement, she whirled around facing him with a bright smile.

"I dreamed about this place," her voice was warm and all he wanted was to touch her to make sure she was standing there under the moonlight. "The gardens were something I have wanted to see," she pointed a finger in the direction of a greenhouse and a patch of flowers and vines.

"Dream or a vision?" He knew he shouldn't test his luck, yet deep down inside he felt as if he had already known the answer. As if it was imprinted inside his heart for a long time.

"Vision," she answered, walking towards the field of roses. Her palm touched some petals while her hair tumbled down towards the ground. "I saw you here," her digits closed around the stem with silent amusement. "You were happy," she turned around and looked straight at him.

"This is Rosehall," the lump in his throat made it difficult for him to speak. It was like a fever dream of his, having her here in the fields of flowers and so painstakingly real.

"Very suitable," she smiled and turned once again stepping onto the soft grass. "It's a pretty name," he heard her sitting on the ground and when he glanced up he saw her lying flat on the earth. Her knees were slightly angled but her face was upwards as if she was watching stars. Azriel staggered towards her, breathing fresh air as he finally stood up on her right.

"I haven't thought about its name for years," he slowly sat and looked at her profile. She was gazing at the sky with a small smile. Happiness looked beautiful on her, it made her glow.

"There's so much...space," she breathed and her chest moved in a slight erratic manner. "You can almost taste freedom here," Elain blinked as she turned onto her side. She faced him and he thought that there was never a time in his life when he felt so many emotions at once.

"I'm sorry," the edges of him crumbled as his eyes started to burn. He didn't mean to hurt her, not in the slightest. He was just too… selfish. And she was everything he had ever dreamed about, an embodiment of home, of a warmth he so desperately searched for. "It wasn't a mistake," he whispered as her hand fell upon his abdomen. Always trusting, always inviting.

"Then what? A distraction?" She mused as her body leaned forward and she was mirroring his position. "I will never know as long as you won't talk to me," she supplied with a pain in her voice.

"No, never a distraction. I have wanted this," he circled the air with his hand ambiguously. "From the moment you clenched onto that fork you were someone I have wanted to be with," his head lowered down Azriel didn't want to meet her eyes.

"Why haven't you told me?" Her confusion mixed with regret pained him.

"You have a mate," he muttered while plucking on some innocent straw of grass.

"And you know I don't want him," her palm searched for his cheek and as she turned his face to look at her, he saw tears in her eyes. "Whenever I'm with you I feel whole. Alive. I look at you and feel so scared," he inwardly flinched yet she held him in one place. "Scared of losing you. Every time I lose sight of you I feel like I'm drowning. It's as if a part of me was ripped apart," she closed her trembling lips and stared at him with utter devotion.

"Elain," his fingers touched her neck, his thumb circling around the hollow gap between her shoulder and jaw.

"That night I chose you. Us," she said with a final note, leaning against his hand. "It's my choice, no one else's," a butterfly-like kiss ghosted on his inner palm.

"Rhysand's orders," he gulped when she pushed him down and climbed onto his lap.

"Fuck Rhysand's orders," she spat and for a moment both of them were silent. Then he laughed, a true bellowing laughter erupted at the back of his throat at her vicious remark. Her giggles followed and he had never heard such an extraordinary sound.

"Never deemed you as a foul mouth," he managed when she slumped forward, enveloping him in a warm hug.

"I live with Illyrians and a very pissed immortal being," a hot kiss on his neck made him shiver.

"Elain," he took her face in his hands and stared at her brown eyes with a heat crawling down his spine. "Elain," he whispered again while closing the distance between them. She whimpered when he finally nibbed at her lower lip. The sensation waking up something primal inside him, a storm of feelings and needs attacking his senses. Her warm mouth opened and he finally kissed her - something exploded in his chest, something brilliant and intimate. It was as if everything was set in order, the way her lips moved against and how their bodies molded into one. He could feel her, smell her need and anticipation. She was shaking as her small fingers dug into his neck.

"Azriel," his name on her lips was his undoing. He opened his eyes and saw her… glowing. The golden hue enveloping both of them into a cocoon of intense bliss. When she opened her eyes the golden color lingered there for a while before vanishing, leaving both of them gasping for air.

"You were always there," he realized touching his chest. A vibrant thread blinding him with its magnitude.

"Rosehall," she laughed tracing his scars. "You have waited for so long," Elain kissed his temple while embracing him again. "I'm sorry I have made you wait for so long," the bridge between them sparkled with love and belonging.

"I knew you would come to me," nothing but the truth slipped through his lips as he gently cupped her chin. Both of them stared at each other, halves of two finally found. A home he had longed for, held in his arms as a scent of roses and jasmine shielded him from the world.

#elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #pro elriel #elriel #day 1 #rosehall #pro elain archeron #pro azriel #elain and azriel

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cassandraclare · 4 years

Text

Jessa/Wessa ship wars

teenagefunbouquet said:Isn't it enough Tessa&Jem got a wedding comic, two kids (and you say more), a lifetime as the only mates for each other and your most explicitly written sex scene After the Bridge? Wessa are the most popular and we get nothing, every wessa moment is shared with Jem while Jessa get to be alone, Wessa fans got no "anticipation" like jessa fans are getting now everyday you give them a book in jem's pov or a short story or a new kid. it feels like wessa is dead.

I’ll be interested in people’s thoughts on this. (I left the username as is since it’s a blank account, probably created to ask this question, so no one’s really getting hurt in this minor drama.) Most of my long and somewhat crabbish post is under the read more.

First, let me reply with the obvious, which is the Jessa rebuttal: “Isn’t it enough that Will gets to be Tessa’s first love and Jem only gets to be her second? Isn’t it enough that Will and Tessa had sex when they thought Jem was dead? Isn’t it enough that there’s a whole series about Will and Tessa’s kids but we only find out that Jem and Tessa had a kid in a short story? Isn’t enough that Jem and Tessa have spent half their relationship looking for a kid who’s related to Will, not either of them? Isn’t it enough that Will and Tessa got two biological kids they got to spend eighteen years raising and Jem and Tessa only get like two years with Kit? Jessa are the most popular, but half the stories in Ghosts of the Shadow Market happened while Will was still alive! And now Wessa fans are getting content every day and have two more books of Wessa being married and doing cute stuff to look forward to. Every day they’re getting a special edition of a book with a whole short story about their wedding. It feels like Jessa is dead.”

Not that I believe any of that either: I think both complaints are equally silly and selfish. But they are complaints rooted in the same logic, which is “My ship is the best and most popular, and every time I see something that in my mind supports the ship I hate I feel angry and diminished, and rather than perhaps examining those feelings I’d like to vent them on other fans and the creator.”

So. My feeling about this is: I am sad to see there is still some kind of a ship war here. As far as I am concerned...

the Wessa/Jessa ship war ended in 2012 when we found out Tessa loved both boys equally and would spend a lifetime with both of them. The end. Quibbling about irrelevant details like how many kids each couple has subsequently or examining closely the explicitness of their sex scenes seem bizarre and pointless. It has nothing to do with how books and stories are made, or how they work, or what functions they serve. At this point it’s like you decided your favorite football team could definitely beat another team, and you spend all your time obsessing about it even though they will never play against the other team because the other team is a hockey team.

When I see people say that “Wessa got” something or “Jessa got” something, it makes me cringe. It reduces stories that are about other things, often friendship, to being about a ship war I am not a part of. (Not every story or book in which a couple appears is a story about that ship. Sometimes they’re just grouting their shower or fighting a demon.) Wessa and Jessa are not dueling pop stars fighting over who gets to perform on the Tonight Show. In fact, they are not fighting at all, which is part of the underlying problem. People are used to love triangles where two guys are fighting over a girl and are jealous of each other. Will and Jem are not jealous of each other. They are not fighting over Tessa. To believe that it lessens Will and Tessa’s relationship that Jem is around and alive, or that it makes Jem and Tessa’s relationship better that Will is dead, is a fundamental misunderstanding of these characters and the story they are in. You are trying to shove a square peg into a round hole, and it will cause you endless misery and frustration.

For instance, claiming that “every Wessa moment is spent with Jem.” Well, that’s ridiculous. Obviously, Will and Tessa spent an enormous amount of quality time alone together in TID. (Otherwise, you would have no investment in this relationship in the first place. There’s a reason you’re attached to it.) Jem did not attend their wedding. He is around in Chain of Gold mostly in his role as a Silent Brother: tending the sick, helping James, bringing news. He is not around during the scene where Will and Tessa make love, or when they kiss and cuddle in the drawing room, grossing out their kids. (I had to fight very very hard to retain even one scene of Will and Tessa alone: in a normal YA book, you would never see a sex scene between the parents, from their point of view.)

The problem is not that there is no “Wessa content” to “anticipate.” The majority of Wessa fans are happy to enjoy stuff like the wedding story or the Wessa moments in TLH. The problem is that the person asking this question will only accept a TLH book in which Jem isn’t mentioned at all as “Wessa content,” and since that would be a fundamental and appalling betrayal of the story and characters — something I would never write and never consider — they will forever feel they are not getting what they deserve.

Asker: if you think that it’s somehow better for Jem and Tessa that Will is dead, that they “get” something that Will and Tessa don’t by having had something awful happen to them, then I do not even know how to begin to speak to you. What has always been meaningful to me about Will, Jem and Tessa is that they all loved each other equally. If that is not the case, then they are not people I am interested in writing about. If that being the case makes you not want to read about them, then you are free to stop — please do — but the story is not going to become something other than it is because you feel your ship is the “most popular.” (Which it is not in my experience, the ships are about equal, and I don’t know why it would matter if it was.)

In After the Bridge, which is not an explicit sex scene but rather a short story that contains sex (they exist!) Will is mentioned thirty-two times. Here’s an example:

“Jem swallowed, running his fingers up and down the blade. “He had only just died,” he said. She didn’t need to ask who he was. There was really only one He when it was the two of them speaking. “I was afraid. I saw what happened to the other Silent Brothers. I saw how they hardened over time, lost the people they had been. How as the people who loved them and who they loved died, they became less human. I was afraid that I would lose my ability to care. To know what this knife meant to Will and what Will meant to me.”

If you think Will isn’t present in Jem and Tessa’s relationship just because he’s dead, you’re wrong. He’s mentioned constantly. (And if someone thought that made it not Jessa content, I would have the same discussion with them: If Jem and Tessa didn’t care about Will, I wouldn't care about them.)

As long as there has been fandom, there have been ship wars. Social media has added a new dimension to that, which is what you’re doing here: the ability to run to the creator and complain, hoping they’ll side with you or give you what you want.

Here’s the problem: it’s really really toxic to have been involved in a clearly vicious ship battle for years. It will destroy utterly your ability to read or enjoy the canon you’re arguing about. I’ve been there, I’ve had friends be there. If you think it’s a point for Jem and Tessa that Will is dead, if you went into Last Hours thinking Jem wouldn’t be in it, that is a sign of a profound detachment from the actual reality of the canon books. You are not interacting with what I am writing or the characters as they are. You are interacting with the fight you are having. That is why your discourse has spun so far off from the books it no longer resembles what is actually happening in them, and demands such extreme gestures to be appeased — like leaving Jem out of Lost Book when he’s actually from the city the characters are visiting, or cutting him from Last Hours even though it would be unrealistic, cruel, and a disappointment to the vast majority of readers.

Dismissing every single moment Will and Tessa have together in TLH because Jem is alive somewhere and it’s bothering you is a recipe for you to be miserable. Clearly you didn’t enjoy the Wessa wedding, or the Will and Tessa love scenes in Chain of Gold. Clearly you consider Jem and Tessa having children not to be a reason for happiness but rather bitter rage even though it is totally irrelevant to Will and Tessa’s past relationship. The only thing that would be satisfactory would be a rewrite of Clockwork Princess in which Jem was run over by a tank and Will and Tessa didn’t care and were happy and got married and we never had to hear about Jem again. But because that would require time travel and a rewrite of Will and Tessa as vile assholes, that is not a thing you are going to get. If you are determined to always be miserable about the reality of what this story is, than the only result of that is that you will always be miserable.

There is never going to be a winner of this love triangle. It isn’t that story. No amount of anything I do is ever going to change that: no short stories I write, or content I produce, or books or sex scenes or longform poems about either couple will change the fact that both Will and Jem ended up with Tessa and she loves them equally. If you want a “somebody wins” kind of love triangle, there are other books that will provide that for you. These will never be those books.

So why did you write this long screed, Cassie, the rest of you might be wondering, and fairly. Three reasons. One is that there are other questions that are carbon copies of this one (as in, written by the same person/small group of people) cluttering up my inbox, and I want to put a stop to the idea that this kind of thing is going to be acknowledged as a valid comment or complaint. It’s not. Second, we have all been driven bananas by quarantine and I am no exception. The third is that this is the last time I am going to address this kind of ship-fight-disguised-as-question. Any further demands for me to favor one Tessa ship over another will be responded to with a link to this post. In the end I’m hoping this will be a time saver once we’re all allowed outside again.

#jessa #wessa #tid #tlh #gotsm #screed

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thorniest-rose · 3 years

Text

reddie halloween prompt #6 pumpkin

Eddie had lived in denial for a long time. It was a denial that had clung to him since he’d been a little boy. Never letting himself get dirty. Being scared of falling ill. Not letting his eyes linger too much on the handsome men he saw in the pharmacy or at the grocery store. And never letting himself enjoy food. Because food meant gluttony. It meant allergies and intolerances. It meant turning out like his mother, who he watched grow bigger and rounder every year.

He spent years like that, not letting himself enjoy anything. Convincing himself he was so frail that all he could eat were egg whites and leafy greens or the leanest chicken with a plate of boiled vegetables. No gluten. No sugar. Hardly any fats or carbs. For more than 20 years he was as austere as a Puritan. And he told himself it was for the best.

Until Richie, that was. Until they had finally defeated the clown.

Things started to change then. Slowly at first but surely. Eddie left his sham of a marriage; he came out of the closet; he admitted to Richie one night, as the two of them shared a bowl of ice cream by Richie's swimming pool, that he was in love with him. And then, after he let himself try a slice of challah one day at a coffee shop downtown, toasted gently and spread with honey, Eddie let himself fall.

First, Eddie made banana bread using some old, overripe bananas on their kitchen table. Then he baked chewy oatmeal cookies one morning after he’d served up their overnight oats. Before Eddie knew it, he was cooking up a storm: he ordered cookbooks, watched videos, bookmarked blogs. And he started to love the act of cooking. Looked forward to planning out their meals and going grocery shopping. There were fluffy ricotta pancakes in the morning; a cheese and spinach quiche with salad in the afternoon, chicken thighs baked in white wine, olive oil and parmigiano reggiano in the evening. And then, teasingly, a silky mousse or sliver of cheesecake.

Richie, who had the biggest appetite out of anyone Eddie had ever known, scarfed down everything Eddie made as quickly as a dog. He'd been happy to see Eddie enjoy food more and actively encouraged his cooking.

What Eddie hadn't expected was how sexy Richie had found it. How he watched Eddie cook with his blue eyes lit up with some kind of mischief. Sometimes coming up behind him so he could trail his hands over Eddie’s hips as he cooked, snaking a hand around his chest to tweak a nipple through his t-shirt, or to press the flat of his palm to Eddie’s lower stomach in a vaguely territorial touch that had Eddie half-panting as he stirred.

Eddie always kicked Richie out eventually, swatting him away with a wooden spoon or elbowing him in the stomach. But it didn't stop Eddie from growing ruby-cheeked or getting hard in his pants. Something Richie definitely noticed as he chuckled and said, "You feeling okay there, baby?"

Which is probably why he should have seen this coming. Not that he thought it would happen that morning, as he prepared a homemade pumpkin pie for the first time. That he’d end up pushed up against the counter in their spacious, airy kitchen with Richie's jeans shoved down his thighs and his cock balls deep inside Eddie's ass.

The pie looks good. Eddie had completed the crust, and he’s busy with the filling: mixing eggs, spices and fresh pumpkin purée in a bowl. Or at least he was trying to. Because Richie’s cock was nudging his prostate, and every time Eddie tried to focus on what he was doing, Richie would tilt his hips slightly and brush up against his sweet spot.

Richie had spent the whole time cooing into his ear, telling him what a good boy he was, as he stroked Eddie's hips like he was a skittish, easily frightened domestic pet.

The whisk clatters to the counter as Eddie lets out a high-pitched moan.

“I can’t do it,” he says, his head hanging down between his shoulders.

Richie leans in and swipes his tongue against the bare skin at his feverish nape.

“I think you can,” he says. “Come on, baby, you’re doing so well.”

Richie hadn’t fucked him that morning like he usually did, making the excuse that he had an important Zoom meeting. That he had to get ready for some presentation with the big suits about the future of his show. Eddie had said okay, that made sense, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed as Richie kissed him on the cheek and disappeared out the room.

But it turns out this was why. Richie had been saving it for this.

Eddie tries not to moan at how deep Richie is inside him. There’s nothing between them, not even a layer of latex, and it’s almost too much. Richie’s cock is stretching him wide - with a shiver, he can imagine how obscene his hole must look around Richie’s cock - and on each small thrust into him, Eddie can feel Richie’s balls brush against his thighs.

“I hate you,” he mutters as his arms tremble, hands clenched so hard around the edge of the counter that they're porcelain white.

Richie tsks against his neck. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your finance, is it? When he takes such good care of you.”

Eddie laughs, and it sounds manic. “Is this what you think taking care of me looks like?”

He expects a joke, or a witty retort. Instead what he gets is Richie’s fingers tightening to a bone-bruising grip on his hips. Eddie would cry out, goes to, except Richie shoots out a hand and shoves three thick fingers into Eddie’s mouth, stifling the sound.

With an edge of steel Richie says, “Why don’t you stop talking back and do as you’re told?”

Eddie starts to say “okay”, only he can’t, not with Richie’s fingers in his mouth, how they press down his tongue. So he nods his head as much as he can to get the point across. He’ll make the pie. He’ll be good.

“That's better,” Richie says.

He pushes his fingers deeper into Eddie’s mouth, getting them wet to the knuckle, the force of it making Eddie gag. It feels like a warning. That Eddie better be good because he's not in the mood to play. Then he pulls them out as fast as he’d pushed them in, bringing them back to Eddie's hip.

"Go on then," he says, but this time there's the hint of a laugh in his voice. Like he finds humiliating Eddie like this funny.

Eddie feels winded, the corners of his mouth feel bruised, but he picks up the whisk again and starts swirling the filling. It’s not as fast as he’d usually do it, but it’s the best he can do. Behind him, Richie starts to pick up the pace a little, pulling out and pushing his cock deeper into Eddie’s needy, clenching hole. He hits his prostate again, making him arch back against the tall line of Richie’s body.

“R-Richie, I can’t,” he says, on the verge of dropping the whisk again. Of abandoning the pie and begging Richie to fuck him.

But he knows that won't do.

From behind him Richie says, “Why don’t you shut the fuck up? I thought you could be good? Do you want me to pull out?”

Eddie shakes his head. He doesn't. Even though it was maddening: the torturous, slow push of Richie’s cock inside him, the feeling of his zipper rubbing up against his ass, the drip of precome at the end of Eddie’s dick where he’d grown flushed and hard against the counter. But the thought of Richie pulling out and leaving him there while he went to the bedroom to jerk off was even worse. He has a thought of Richie coming all over their bedsheets, of wasting his come instead of depositing it deep inside Eddie where it belonged, and he almost whines.

“No Richie, I want it so bad, please. Please don’t pull out,” he begs, in a voice he doesn’t even recognise. Something high and wanton. A voice he didn’t even know he could make until Richie laid him down on his bed one night all those months ago and pushed inside him for the first time.

“Beautiful boy,” Richie says sweetly. “Finish it, come on,” he murmurs.

So Eddie does. As Richie continues his slow, tormenting pace, Eddie finishes whisking the filling and lifts the bowl with shaky fingers so he can pour it into the pastry shell. He almost drops it, but manages to right the bowl at the last second. Afterwards he stares at it: the beautiful, flaky, butter pastry crust with its autumnal filling, and that floaty feeling of satisfaction comes over him. He’d done good. He did exactly as Richie told him.

“I’ve done it, Richie,” he sighs, his voice sounding faraway. “I’ve finished the pie.”

He melts when Richie kisses him on the side of his neck, scraping his teeth over his pulse point where it jumps rapidly.

“I knew you could do it, Eddie, I knew you could make me happy.”

And Richie rewards him for it. With one hand he pulls Eddie’s hips back and with the other he pushes Eddie’s cheek down against the counter until Eddie's bent at an obscene angle. At a fuckable angle, Eddie thinks with a shiver. But that’s the last coherent thought he has for a long time because a moment later Richie’s pulling out until just the tip of his dick is spearing Eddie open, and then he does what Eddie’s wanted all this time. He shoves back inside, the squelch of the lube pornographically loud in their quiet kitchen, and he rails him hard, letting that hidden, ferocious side come out.

It’s the hardest fuck Eddie’s had in days, and fuck it feels so good, his ass bouncing off Richie’s sharp hips on every thrust, Richie's cock punching his tiny hole open, and the low-pitched growl coming from Richie’s throat making his dick drool at the tip.

It's something he can't believe he's denied himself for so long.

"I kind of want to eat this pumpkin pie out of you," Richie suddenly says. "Would you let me do that? Just finger it inside of your dumb cunt and then eat it out of you?"

And it shouldn't sound hot. It should sound ridiculous. But it doesn't stop Eddie from crying out or his balls drawing up.

"I'm going to-"

He cuts off on a high whine as Richie reaches around and grabs him in warning.

"You better not. Not until I say."

Eddie nods, and Richie starts fucking him again, hammering his prostate on every push inside him, muttering so filthy it makes Eddie flush all the way down to his chest.

And when Richie finally tells him to come he does, clenching around him until he shoots sticky white all over the counter.

“Good boy,” Richie says as he pulls his cock out to smear the sticky head against the sore skin at his hole, making Eddie quiver. “Now let's go for that money shot. How much do you think you can make Daddy come?"

And Eddie, with gusto, shows him.

#halloween reddie #reddie #reddie drabbles #minors dni #d/s #dom/sub #tw food #tw eating #tw daddy kink #tw food kink #dom richie #sub eddie #tw feminization

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myhockeyworld87 · 3 years

Text

Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 2

Word Count: 5,716

POV: Jamie

Warnings: Language, Smut, NSFW, talks about losing virginity

Notes: Here is the next part right away. Hope you guys enjoy this. Happy Reading!!!

Ruined Masterlist

Throwing on some shorts and a t-shirt, you headed down to the kitchen to whip up a quick protein shake before Tyler got there for your morning workout. With the season just around the corner, you’d pushed training into high gear, Tyler coming to your place every morning before you’d head off and workout with your trainer. In just a few short weeks training camp would be in full swing and you wanted to be in your best shape to make a run for the cup. But the Stanley Cup wasn’t on your mind as you turned the blender on, the grinding sound echoing through the empty house. Empty was the keyword there. You were tired of being alone, tired of going out to the clubs, ending the night with some mindless hookup. Maybe it was the fact that Jordie had finally popped the question to his long-time girlfriend Jess and the two seemed blissfully happy, that was making you want to settle down, or maybe it was seeing your sister with her little girl and longing for a family of your own. Whatever it was, you wished that you could just meet the perfect woman and fall madly in love.

The problem was you were too picky. They were either too tall or too blonde or maybe it was not blonde enough, then there were the ones that didn’t talk or were too chatty. You seemed to find something wrong with each and every woman you dated. Hell, your longest relationship only lasted six months and you’d only kept her around that long for appearance sake. You wanted a meaningful relationship with the girl of your dreams. It didn’t seem like much to ask for.

“Hey, I see you're getting new neighbors.” Tyler’s voice brought you out of your musings and you glanced at him as he walked into your kitchen. “Well not neighbors exactly, since it’s like two houses up, but the woman who’s moving in is hot as hell.”

“Do you mean in Doc Lundin’s place?” Dr. Lundin had been the team doctor for the Stars for the last several years and had finally decided to retire. You’d heard his practice had been looking at a young and upcoming doctor to take his place but didn’t know that they’d hired anyone.

“Yep,” Tyler finally answered. “Must be the new doctor’s hot wife. It’s a shame she’s married because, DAMN!” He gave a low whistle of approval. “I’m telling you, I’d be all over that.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“We’re in an open relationship.” All you could do was roll your eyes, for all Tyler’s relationships were open, at least on his end. “But hey, if you wanted a crack at her, I’d give you first dibs, since it’s been a while.”

“Gee thanks,” your sarcasm was not lost on your best friend.

“I’m just saying it’s been a bit since you’ve gone out with anyone.” This you already knew and were just contemplating moments ago. “Maybe we should go for a run while she’s still out directing the movers.”

“Why don’t we leave the new doc’s wife in peace at least for a day or so.”

“You’re no fun.” Tyler downed half your drink but luckily, you’d made enough for another glass, before you headed out to your pool house that had now been turned into a gym. The two of you spent the morning and afternoon training before Tyler headed back to his house.

It was just after dinner when you decided to go for a run, now that the sun was setting and the Dallas heat wouldn’t make your shoes melt to the pavement. You thought you’d head up to see Jordie and Jess, who only lived about six blocks away. It would be a short little run, but still, a way to get some exercise in. As you stepped out of your house, it was still a bit steamy, so you tossed your shirt off, and flipped your cap backward before heading up the street. The moving truck seemed to be gone, so you guess whoever it was that captured Tyler’s attention was busy inside unpacking. You were so absorbed in checking out the house you didn’t realize that someone was coming around the corner at you until your bodies collided. Your hands immediately went to her hips to steady her. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching…” you started to say while she was apologizing to you at the same time. It wasn’t until you looked at her face that recognition hit, then all words died on the tip of your tongue. “(Y/N), is that you?” She didn’t need to answer for you to know that it was her. This was your (Y/N), the first girl you ever kissed, the first girl you ever slept with, and the only girl you ever loved. Though you’d ruined all that. Standing there, you took in all of her features and you were reminded of how much you’d loved her back then. How much that first and only time with her had meant to you.

You’d been so nervous driving all the way to Vancouver with (Y/N), but she was more nervous. So, you took her hand and held it the whole way, occasionally dropping kisses here and there. The foot that wasn’t driving, bounced uncontrollably up and down with anticipation of the night to come. You were pretty sure you were wearing a hole in the flooring of the car. It had to be the longest car ride you’d ever had. “Did you maybe want to get something to eat before we head to the house?” You asked (Y/N) hoping to break some of the silence that was filled only by the stereo in the car.

“Yeah, we could do that.” She glanced over at you and gave you a weak smile.

“(Y/N), we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You totally meant the words you’d just spoken, for you in no way wanted her to feel pressured about having sex with you. This should be something you both wanted.

“No, I want to. Don’t you?” Her voice picked up a little bit, the sound more reassuring than the smile she gave only moments ago.

“I want to, too.” God, you sounded like an idiot. “I went to the pharmacy and got protection, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to.” This time it was your turn to look over at her, trying to see if you misunderstood her statement before scanning the road again. “I’m on the pill, have been for a while.” She said by way of explanation. “My mom thought it would be best, once she found out I was actually dating someone, but we can use the condoms too if you want.”

“I mean…uh…” were you really having a conversation about birth control methods? You supposed it was the adult thing to do. “If you think we should, we can.”

(Y/N) turned in the seat to fully look at you then. “Ok, so this will probably sound stupid.” Your head bobbed back and forth between the road and the girl you were in love with.

“(Y/N), nothing you say is stupid. You’re the smartest person I know.”

She leaned over and kissed your cheek. “Thanks,” she took a deep breath. “Anyhow, I kind of don’t want to use a condom if we don’t have to, at least this time.” You weren’t quite following her thinking so you remained silent for her to explain. “Like, it’s both our first times, so there’s not a chance of us getting a sexually transmitted disease or anything. We just really have to worry about getting pregnant. Which since I’m on the pill, and before you say anything, I take it the same time every day, so no worries there. I think we’re safe on that account.” You nodded your agreement, for it was just like (Y/N) to be so precise about something. “But the real reason I don’t want you to use it is…” she hesitated, almost as if she was embarrassed to tell you why. She certainly had to know that there was nothing to be ashamed of, especially with what the two of you were about to do.

“Just tell me (Y/N). I promise I won’t laugh or make fun of you or anything.” You squeezed her hand giving her a little added courage.

“I just want to feel you.” Her face started to turn a combination of pink and red, which looked totally adorable on her. “You know nothing in between us. I just really want to know what it feels like.” Fuck, you wanted that too.

“Yeah, that does sound nice.” You tried to downplay it though inside you were a jumble of nerves now, and thinking about what it would feel like to be inside her only made those magnify. What if you spent the moment your cock dipped inside her pussy? What if she didn’t cum? There were so many thoughts whirling around in your head, that you were ready to explode, and in more ways than one.

“So, then you agree? No condom.” (Y/N) asked you, drawing you back to the present.

“Yeah, no condom.” The car grew silent again and you could feel your hand sweating as it held (Y/N)’s. There was only about another half-hour left in the drive. “So, where were you thinking to get something to eat.” You changed the subject hoping to take both of your minds off what would happen later. You stopped off at a little burger joint that (Y/N)’s family always went to when they were in town. You couldn’t stop grinning at each other all through the meal. It was really quite ridiculous.

Afterward, you headed over to the house. You carried both your bags in. “Umm…where should I put these?”

“Oh, I don’t really have a bedroom here. I just sleep in one of the guest rooms, so we can just use one of them. They’re upstairs.” You followed her up the stairs, as she led the way to the bedroom. Inside was a massive four-poster king-size bed that had curtains draping down from it. Both of you just sort of stared at it for a full minute, letting the weight of what was about to happen sink in. “You can just put our stuff over there.” She pointed to the window that had two chairs sitting by it.

It was late in the afternoon and you weren’t really sure if you should wait until dark to do this or start now. Everything felt too planned out, except for the exact timing. “Did you want to…” you trailed off, unable to put your thoughts into words.

“Oh…umm…yeah,” (Y/N) answered and you took a step closer to her. Your hands went to her waist, as you pulled her closer to you, before dipping your head down to kiss her lips. It was awkward, just like it had been the first time you kissed, but then your tongue slipped inside her mouth and you felt her melt into you. She pulled back though suddenly. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She stepped over to her bag, rifling around inside. “I brought these.” She pulled out a couple of glass candles. “I thought…well I don’t know what I thought, but you know, they always have them lit in the movies.”

You smiled over at her, taking a couple of them and setting them on the nightstand and dresser. “Do you have something to light them with?”

“Oh, one sec.” She took off downstairs and you could hear her rummaging around the empty house. You gazed at the bed. Should you turn the covers down? Maybe take some of the pillows off? You were contemplating what to do when (Y/N) came back in. “I found a couple more, and this.” She held out a pack of matches and you took them, lighting the candles that she’d placed throughout the room. She pulled the blinds down on the windows and it cast the room in a romantic glow, which reminded you of the item you brought to add to the romance.

You pulled your mp3 player out of your bag and found the love song list you’d created for tonight and turned it on. You prayed that (Y/N) wouldn’t think that it was cheesy. When you finally turned around, she had the most adorable smile on her face. As you took the couple steps to close the distance between the two of you, she took a step back, and suddenly all those nerves from the car ride were back. “There’s just one more thing.” This time she grabbed her bag and headed into the bathroom.

While she was in there, you shucked off your shoes, then decided to get rid of your socks as well, since it would just be awkward to have them on. Grabbing the small bottle of Listerine, you had packed, you swished it around in your mouth then looked around for someplace to spit it out. There wasn’t any, so you just swallowed the small amount, coughing as you did. Lastly, you threw off the sweatshirt you had on. The fewer clothes you had to take off the better was your thought. You were tugging down the plain black t-shirt you had on, when (Y/N) stepped back into the bedroom, clad in a short silk robe. Your mouth went dry. Thoughts of what was underneath or what wasn’t filled your brain, both the one in your head and down below. Fuck, you needed to think of something else or this was going to end before it even started. You tamped down the lust that was threatening to boil over and walked towards (Y/N). “You look,” you shook your head trying to come up with the right word but there was only one. “Beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled back as a blush stained her cheeks. “I’m nervous.”

“Me too,” you admitted and you wiped your palms off before reaching for her. They slid around her waist then up her back as you looked her in the eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she breathed out knowing that you were asking if she still wanted to have sex. You kissed her then like you had so many times in the past. Her arms slid up around your neck and you deepened the kiss. When you heard her moan, you let your hands roam to the belt of her robe, which came easily undone. Your hands roamed up her sides where you felt her lace bra. You were dying to know what she looked like in it. All the times that you and (Y/N) had done anything sexual together, she’d never been completely naked nor had you. It was always something hurried in the back of your car or on the couch when no one was home. Now though, you could drink your fill of her as you were alone with nothing and no one to interrupt you.

Gently, you pulled back from the kiss so you could gaze at her. Her body was covered in white lace, and you wondered if she had done it on purpose; sort of a nod to giving her virginity away to you. Unconsciously, you licked your lips as you took in the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. She was sheer perfection. “Damn,” you hissed out. “How did I get so lucky?” She giggled at your comment then let the robe slide off her shoulders; the view now even better than a second ago and you were finding it hard to breathe.

You felt yourself get hard just standing there staring at her. “Jame,” she said breaking you out of the spell.

“Yeah…uh…sorry.” You blinked hard, then took her hand and led her over to the bed, where you kissed her again. Slowly, you leaned her back onto the mattress, as your body hovered over hers. This part was nothing new, you’d made out with (Y/N) hundreds of times. It was what came next you were unsure of. Her hands slid under your shirt, and she bunched it up so that you could climb out of it. It fell to the ground somewhere in the bedroom. She then reached for the button on your jeans, but you knew if she took them off now, you’d be done. So, you rolled her to her side and followed her, unclasping her bra the minute her back was free. Your legs tangled with hers and you felt her hips gently rock into your thigh. She wanted this just as much as you did but you needed to make it good.

Last night, you’d pulled Jordie aside and told him of your plans, purely so you could ask his advice. He’d chirped you, of course, for not having done the deed with (Y/N) sooner. But when you threatened to just leave, he stopped. He gave you a ton of information, go down on her first to help her relax, make sure she was wet before you even tried to stick your dick in her, go slow because it will probably hurt her, and the last bit was, make sure you didn’t bust your load too soon. The last part was the one you were truly worried about.

(Y/N)’s bra now forgotten, you focused your attention there as you twisted both of your bodies so that she was now lying flat on her back. Kissing your way down her neck, you first took one nipple and then the other into your mouth. She moaned and it went straight to your groin. Thank god you still had your jeans on or you’d had spent right then and there. There were times you’d spend a good hour, just toying with breast but tonight was not going to be one of them. Working your way down her stomach, you kissed her right above where her panties were. The cute little white lace panties barely covered her pussy, and your mouth salivated just thinking about tasting her. You hooked your fingers around the elastic at the side, then started to shimmy them over her hips. (Y/N) rose up to help you rid herself of the flimsy garment.

Setting back on your heels, you drank in the sight of her bare body. You’d never seen her totally naked before, so you took a moment to just drink in the sight of her. One leg slightly bent, her arms off to the sides, but fidgeting as you gazed at her. “Jamie?” Her voice wobbled slightly and you could tell you were making her somewhat nervous, yet you couldn’t take your eyes off her.

“Sorry,” you said a blush coming to your cheeks. “You’re just…perfect.” She smiled, then sat up, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss that had you wanting more. “Lie back,” you told her after kissing her breathless. She did and you took your hands and glided them from her ankles to her inner thighs; spreading her legs wide, so you could settle in between what you knew was your own little piece of heaven on earth. You grinned up at her before laying your tongue flat against her sweet little pussy, then licking between her folds. Her hips bucked forward even at the first contact. Your smile growing wider knowing that you were turning her on. You couldn’t help looking up at her as you flicked your tongue back and forth over her clit. Her hands fisted into the sheets and she moaned out something that you couldn’t quite hear.

Spreading her pussy lips with your fingers, you dipped your tongue inside her. “Jamie,” she cried out, and then you felt her hands threading through your hair urging you to continue. She tasted so sweet as you licked up and down her slit then flicked her clit. When she was wet and wanting more, you slid a finger inside her, mimicking what you wanted to do with your cock. Just the thought of being able to slide it into her warm and wet pussy had your cock hardening to granite. Fuck, you needed to get her off, so that you could feel her wrap around your dick before you lost your load. You made that come-hither motion, finding that spongy little spot up inside her. “Oh God,” she moaned out and you felt her legs start to tremble, as your hands kept them from clamping down on your head. Your tongue worked tirelessly on her little nub, alternating between flicking and sucking on it, as you fingered her. “I’m gonna…cum.” (Y/N) barely got the last word out and you felt her pussy spasm around your finger while her whole body bucked upwards. You felt a rush of wetness hit your lips and as much as you wanted to lick up every bit of her essence; you didn’t.

She slowly came back to reality with you, as you moved back up the length of her body until your lips were locked with hers. This time when her hands went to your waist you didn’t stop her as she undid first the button then the zipper. (Y/N) tried to help you shimmy out of your jeans but it was no use, so you rolled off her and wiggled out of them yourself. Her giggle went straight to your groin. “We have time, Jame.” You knew she was right but this was a moment you’d been waiting for, for a while now. You tossed the jeans and then your boxer briefs to the floor, before rolling on your side to face (Y/N).

“I know…it’s just…” you couldn’t quite put it into words, but she nodded her understanding, bringing her hand to your cheek and slowly kissing you. Your hand roamed up her bare back, pressing her close against your skin. She felt so soft and supple in your hands, and you rolled her onto her back, your body looming over hers as your lips and tongues molded together. She moaned into your mouth, and you broke the kiss looking down at her. There was a questioning look in her eyes at your actions. “Are you sure you want to do this? You can tell me no right now and we’ll stop.” It would kill you, but all (Y/N) had to do was say the word.

“I want this Jamie. I want you.” She cupped your face and brought it down to mere inches above hers. “I love you.”

Your lips spread into the widest smile that ever graced your face and it had nothing to do with her saying yes to sex. “I love you too, (Y/N),” you told her and although they were only five words, they were the truest thing you’d ever spoken in your life. This wasn’t some fleeting crush that a sixteen-year-old boy had on a girl. This was true love in every sense of the word. You’d known your feelings for her the first time you’d met, now they were just intensified and what would happen next would bind you two together.

Her legs fell open, letting you work your way between them. Taking your cock in your hand, you slid it in between her damp pussy lips. She gasped, breaking the kiss and allowing you to stare into her eyes. “Let me know if I’m hurting you,” you hissed out as you nudged forward just an inch. Her walls surrounded your cock and it felt like heaven. Jordie was right, you just wanted to push all the way into her and shoot your load, but you couldn’t or wouldn’t do that to (Y/N). This had to be good for her too. She bit her lip, which made you wonder if she was in pain or if it felt as wonderful for her as it did for you. Another inch forward and you felt a barrier in your way. You knew enough about the female anatomy to know what it was and that going forward would change everything, not only for (Y/N) but you too. You leaned down and gave her another kiss, hoping to ease some of the tension that you could feel coursing through her body. When you felt her relax a bit into the kiss, you pressed all the way forward burying yourself deep inside her. (Y/N) froze and you pulled your head back to look at her, as all the blood in your body went directly to your penis. It took every ounce of your being, not to move. Sweat beading across your forehead as you asked, “Are you ok?” You couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. She had to be, right?

Finally, she inhaled deeply and it was as if you were taking a breath with her as the two of you were finally joined as one. “I think so…I...just need a second.” God, you weren’t sure you could last that long. Her breathing started to even out, as yours became irregular trying to keep your body in check. “I think…” she wiggled and you hissed in a breath. “Yeah…I’m ok…maybe if you…” she didn’t finish what she was saying as your hips moved of their own accord, just a thrust in and out.

“Fuck.” You were cursing more at yourself for moving than anything else, but damn if she didn’t feel good.

“It’s ok,” (Y/N) moaned out, her arms reaching around to your back urging you on. “Keep doing that.” Those words were like music to your ears and you found yourself surging forward back into the warm cavernous heat of her pussy, then pulling back out.

“God you feel so…” Good, just didn’t seem like the right word, but at the same time, your brain wasn’t exactly looking for another one. Your cock started to twitch, your balls getting that familiar tightening. You couldn’t cum, not yet, you’d only been inside her for a few minutes. You wanted this to last longer; wanted her to cum too, but there was no more fighting it. “I think I’m…”

“Yes, Jame, cum inside me.” That’s all it took and you thrust one last time before shooting your load in her as she reached up and kissed your neck. Stars clouded your vision, as your climax hit you. A strangled groan leaving your lips. You’d never came that hard in your life, as you collapsed on top of her.

It took a second for you to basically regain consciousness. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m probably crushing you.”

(Y/N) laughed. “Actually, I kind of like it.” Your laughter joined hers until you started to wonder if it was appropriate for sex. You could feel your cock softening inside her, so slid it out of her as you rolled to your side. She whimpered slightly.

“Fuck, baby, did I hurt you?”

“No, I mean…it was a little uncomfortable at first but…then it felt so good.” She was on her side now gazing at you.

You brushed a stray lock of hair off her face. “Sorry, I couldn’t last longer, so you could…well you know.” It still felt awkward talking about getting off, even after what the two of you had just done.

“Don’t be. It felt good, Jame…really good….and maybe,” she ducked her head down into your chest, suddenly shy and mumbled something incoherent.

“Babe,” you said, lifting her chin with your thumb and index finger. “I can’t hear what you said.”

There was the cutest blush on her cheeks. “I just thought…maybe we could do it again. Like later tonight and well maybe tomorrow before we leave.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, her words were like a dream come true. Damn right, you wanted to do it again; as many times as she’d let you.

“Yeah, baby. I definitely want that.” Your lips connected with her, and after what the two of you had just shared, (Y/N) not only stole your heart, but your soul. That night you made love to her again, only then you made sure she came with you, just like you did in the morning before you left. Those twenty-four hours would forever be embedded in your brain and your heart, and as you dropped her off at her friend's house, so she could maintain her cover you knew that you would love only (Y/N) for the rest of your life.

Now, here she was fourteen long years later back in your arms. You shook yourself making sure that you weren’t dreaming. She still looked the same, only better; all hips and curves and things that made men lay awake dreaming about at night. As you took in her features, it struck you then. All those other women the ones you’d found something wrong with all the time; didn’t have anything wrong at all. It was just, they weren’t (Y/N). They were only filling a void from the time that you’d ruined everything until now. She was the woman that everyone else had to measure up to, only now she was someone else’s. Fuck, the thought made your head spin. Had it truly taken fourteen years to get her back only to lose her?

“Hello, Jamie,” she finally spoke and her voice washed over you taking you back to that day and the way she’d called out your name when you were inside her. Your cock hardened instantaneously. She was pressed close to your body and you wondered if she could feel it.

“It’s so good to see you.” They were the first words out of your mouth that made sense but they were also the most truthful. It was just too bad that the look on her face didn’t reflect the same. “Sorry, I’m just in shock seeing you is all.”

“No, I get it.” She replied. “Do you live around here?”

“Uh…Yeah, I’m the white house right there.”

“Oh,” she seemed to be taken back by this knowledge, which was probably understandable. Especially given the fact that her husband was going to be your new team doctor. Nothing like having your ex be your new neighbor.

“What about you? What are you doing in Dallas?” Though you knew the answer, you needed to hear the words come out of her mouth as confirmation, for until you did; you held out that small hope that there was a chance to make things right again.

“Um…well.” It was then that she stepped out of your embrace. You hadn’t realized how naturally she fit back in your hands and that of their own accord they didn’t seem to want to let go. “I just moved here.”

“Kind of got that with the moving truck and all,” you replied, your hand going to the back of your neck at your awkward comment, though she did smile at your words.

“Yeah, I suppose that did give it away.” She shifted her weight from one foot to another. It was a nervous habit of hers that you remember from back in the day.

“It was hard to miss, but I knew the old owner quite well since he was our team doctor. In fact, I heard our new doc was moving in. I guess I’ll be seeing you and your husband around more.” There you’d finally said it. It was like ripping a bandaid off. Sure, it hurt and all but once it was off the sting started to fade, only this time it didn’t, as a look of confusion crossed her face.

“Husband?”

“Oh sorry, my bad. I just assumed you were married. Fiancé then?” Either way, it was going to be awkward as hell seeing her at games and functions, let alone out in their yard. Maybe you’d need to look for a different place. Tyler had just moved recently, you’d have to get the name of his realtor.

A look crossed her face, and you remembered seeing it once before. It was when you’d tried to talk to her after the whole gossip fiasco. She was angry and you had no clue what you said to make her that way, but this was not how you wanted the conversation to go. “I’m not married or engaged, for that matter.” So it must be a boyfriend then, though that didn’t explain her displeasure with you at the moment.

“Geez, (Y/N), I’m really sorry. I just assumed that for you to move all the way here you’d be engaged or married to the guy.”

“There is no guy Jamie. I’m the new doctor.” A look of shock crossed over your face. Why hadn’t anyone told you she’d gone to study medicine? The obvious answer being you tended not to ask about her when you were back home, only because it hurt too much to think about her being with someone else. Though she wasn’t with someone else, it was just her, and she was now your team doctor, who you’d see almost every day. “I can’t believe that you’d think the only reason I’d move her was for a guy. Incredible! You haven’t changed one bit have you?”

“It wasn’t…I didn’t…” She started walking away, just like before when you’d tried to explain what had actually happened. “I just assumed…”

“Yeah, Jame, you just assumed! That what, I couldn’t be smart enough to earn the MD after my name, or that I’m still only good enough for a quick roll in the hay.” You went to answer but she held up her hand and took a deep breath. “Save it, Jamie. I’m a professional and that’s what I’ll be when I see you at the arena or out, but other than that…we have nothing to say.” With that, she left you standing there speechless as she jogged back up her driveway and into the house. And here you thought you had a second chance, that things weren’t totally ruined between you two. Maybe they weren’t. If anything, her position on the team, meant that you’d be seeing a lot of each other, something you were definitely ok with. You might have messed up all those years ago, and somewhat today, but now you had a chance to turn everything around. Maybe things weren’t quite ruined….yet.

#ruined the series #jamie benn #jamie benn smut #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn imagines #jamie benn fanfic #dallas stars #dallas stars fanfic #dallas stars smut #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #Hockey Fanfiction

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monstersdownthepath · 3 years

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Spiritual Spotlight: Hanspur, the Water Rat (and Ashkaelae)

Chaotic Neutral God of Rivers, River Travel, and Smugglers

Domains: Chaos, Death, Travel, Water Subdomains: Exploration, Murder, Rivers, Trade

Inner Sea Faiths, pg. 58~63

Obedience: With the assistance of another priest of Hanspur or by yourself, simulate the act of drowning. You can do this by fully submerging yourself in a body of water, exhaling all of your breath, and painfully inhaling water instead of air. Alternatively, you can lie on your back with your head at a lower elevation than your legs while water is slowly poured on your face and up your nose. If you choose the latter method, you must cover your face with a cloth while the water is poured. When you conclude this simulated drowning, contemplate your life and how your goals coincide with the teachings of Hanspur and the Six River Freedoms. Benefit: You gain a +4 sacred or profane bonus on Survival checks attempted while on or near rivers.

Just reading this makes my sinuses burn and my lungs itch, and not just because it’s springtime and I have allergies! As anyone who’s ever been in a body of water large enough to slap their face with a wave can attest to, inhaling large amounts of water sucks. While this Obedience requires only one wet breath, some... well, some pretty severe complications can arise from it, if your DM ponders even slightly what doing this to yourself every day would do. Dry drowning and secondary drowning are both real dangers from brief immersion, let alone concentrated efforts at simulating one of the worst fates someone can experience (I say this a lot but basically anything that deprives you of air is pretty terrible). The ‘simulation’ will likely only last a few seconds while the rest of the hour is spent recovering from your experience and meditating, but even that may not be enough to offset the fluid likely building up in your lungs. Priests of Hanspur must sound atrocious, coughing themselves ragged every day! No wonder it’s recommended your ritual is overseen by another priest, either, because they’d likely be skilled in helping you manage your symptoms.

Dangers of daily drownings aside, keeping up with the demands of this ritual is pretty easy so long as you’re somewhere with easy access to water. In Hanspur’s homelands, the River Kingdoms, this is pathetically simple! Everywhere else? It’s a lot harder! While I do appreciate that there’s a secondary ritual you can do if total immersion is impossible, but what happens if you’re stuck somewhere with no easy water access? Your waterskins won’t carry you for very long, even if you pilfer them from your party as well. Better invest in a Decanter of Endless Water! Or do something ridiculous like fill the party’s Bag of Holding up so you can just hop in and out whenever you need to.

That benefit is also the weakest I’ve seen in a long time, granting a bonus to only a single skill type and only while near rivers. Survival checks aren’t even all that commonly made, unless your DM is kind enough to let you use Survival to navigate with river rafts rather than Profession or Ride checks. Hanspur really doesn’t want his faithful straying too far from the River Kingdoms, which is only further exacerbated by how his Boons work, so if you’re not the type to linger near rivers you may just want to skip him entirely.

Boons are gathered slowly, typically obtained when a given character has 12, 16, and 20 hit dice. Unlike fiend-worshipers, servants of the Eldest, and devoted of the Empyreal Lords, characters worshiping Neutral gods do not have catch-all classes… but Neutral-aligned characters can enter the Evangelist, Sentinel, and Exalted Prestige Classes earlier than Evil characters, classing in as early as level 6 (they need +5 BAB, 5 ranks in a single skill, or the ability to cast lvl 3 spells); entered ASAP, one can gain the Boons at levels 8, 11, and 14.

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EVANGELIST

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Boon 1: River Sage. Gain Hydraulic Push 3/day, River Whip 2/day, or Hydraulic Torrent 1/day.

Hydraulic Push and Hydraulic Torrent live in the same niche of “giant water spouts what push stuff around,” with Torrent being obviously an order of magnitude more powerful than Push. While Push has a range of Close and can target only a single creature or square, Torrent is a 60ft line that Bull Rushes or attempts to destroy everything it encounters, so it really depends on if you’re thinking you’ll need three small streams or one really, really big one. Notably, Torrent can Bull Rush targets of any size, unrestricted by the limits of your pathetic frame, while Push contains no such limiter removal and thus likely means you can only blast creatures up to a size larger than you.

Also of note, Torrent attempts to shatter everything it comes into contact with until it runs into something or someone it cannot destroy or push past. The Strength score the Torrent uses is equal to your caster level plus your casting ability modifier, meaning it will start out barely stronger than you are but will eventually be able to punch holes in iron and shatter stone. Hell, with a lucky roll, it may be able to do that anyway. Your choice on which two to take wholly depends on if you want to push three Medium critters around or launch one Colossal one.

What? River Whip? I don’t see any spell like that here! Lets move on! (alright alright; i just don’t like it. it’s good as an emergency weapon but more or less anything else is better in any scenario)

Boon 2: River Scion. As a free action you can breathe underwater, as if affected by Water Breathing, for a number of hours per day equal to the number of Hit Dice you possess. These hours need not be used consecutively, but must be used in 1-hour increments.

A disappointingly weak Boon. Really, what else is there to see or say? If you need to go underwater, this ability is great and has zero downsides. If you don’t, this Boon doesn’t exist. It’s a very binary Boon that relies on your environment, which means that if you’re overjoyed if you’ve remained in the River Kingdoms, but in a desert or jungle or mountain peak, you’re going to be extremely disappointed upon hitting level 11.

Boon 3: River’s Embodiment. 1/day as a standard action, you can transform yourself into a Huge water elemental, as per Elemental Body IV. You can stay in this form for 1 minute per Hit Die you possess, and can dismiss this effect as a free action.

Finally, a transformation ability that doesn’t suck! What does suck is that this is a level 7 spell being granted to you 1/day, when other Boons are equivalent to level 9 spells in power. Hanspur could have at least given you a little bonus on top of it, or made it 2/day, but it’s hard to complain about the force you become under Elemental Body IV. You become immune to bleed, critical hits, Sneak Attacks, and on top of it all get insurmountable DR 5, and the stack of stats you get? Mmmm-mm! Chef’s kiss!

+6 AC, +8 Con, +4 Str, all for the price of -2 Dex (more than made up for with the +AC). And, of course, a swim speed and the power to collapse yourself into a destructive Vortex, but those are only useful if you’re in water, while the rest of the stat buffs are far more universally useful. You’re not exactly the destructive and terrifying Fire Elemental or the deceptively sneaky Earth Elemental, but a wall of surging water can still wreak all manner of havoc on your enemies, your new dual slams able to smash ships (and bones) to pieces, and since Water Elementals are capable of speech and gesture, you can merely bask in your new tank stats while still casting spells.

There’s also the much more amusing but niche use of transforming while already polymorphed by a hostile effect, as having a new polymorph effect used on you while you’re already changed can end the first automatically.

While I wish the effect was usable more often, or at least broken into 1-minute increments, I can’t call it a bad Boon by any means.

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EXALTED

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Boon 1: River Guide. Gain Obscuring Mist 3/day, Haunting Mists2/day, or Aqueous Orb 1/day.

I love the name of this ability because two of the three spells do the opposite of guiding people. Now I’m a big fan of Obscuring Mist; it’s a simple staple in my list for almost every caster I make just because of how versatile it is! But now that I know there’s an alternative, it may have competition. Both Obscuring Mist and Haunting Mists do roughly the same thing, but one could argue that Haunting Mists does it better; in addition to granting concealment and shutting off an enemy’s eyes, it deals 1d2 Wisdom damage and shakes up anyone starting their turn inside the mist... But as a Figment spell with the Fear descriptor, there are a great many creatures immune to its unique power, and True Seeing allows one to see through it perfectly, whereas Obscuring Mist remains impenetrable to the apex predator of the Illusion school.

While it cannot be dispelled by wind or motion like a tangible fog, it’s important to note that there’s no way to protect specific creatures from the sanity-damaging effects of Haunting Mists, and its casting distance of 20ft and 20ft spread means that you will likely always be caught in its radius. The range means using it offensively is painfully limited, unless you want to cast it from invisibility after sneaking into the middle of an enemy formation, which... you probably, definitely don’t want to make a habit of.

It’s great for covering your retreat, but not your advance or setup like the normal Mist is.

Aqueous Orb is a good choice if your party is getting screwed over by the mist more than the enemy, creating a big ol’ 10ft ball of water that intercepts and engulfs anything that moves into it, or which it moves into. It deals 2d6 nonlethal damage whenever it rams into a creature and a further 2d6 to everything it has engulfed each round, but the damage isn’t so much the main draw as the fact it’s a massive, roving Sphere of Grappling, snaring and drowning any creature it manages to get ahold of if they fail the Reflex save. It’s a fun little spell that’s great for mopping up and controlling minions, especially ones you don’t actually want to kill, and even at its worst it can become a makeshift barrier in a narrow hallway since there’s no written way to actually move through it beyond wasting 2, 3, or more rounds by slamming into it and swimming through to the other side while your party books it in the other direction.

Boon 2: River Traveler. As a free action, you can grant yourself and any allies within 30 feet of you a swim speed of 60 feet. This effect lasts for 1 round per Hit Die you possess or until you dismiss it as a free action, whichever comes first. Your allies must remain within 30 feet of you or lose this benefit. In addition, you gain a +2 profane or sacred bonus on saves against spells with the Water descriptor.

See, this should have been added to River Scion as a bonus. River Scion and River Traveler feel like they could have combined into a single Boon to make something decent, but as it is they both fall into the same niche: Solves the encounter they’re meant to solve, useless otherwise. This ability is noteworthy for having no restrictions about how many times it can be used, essentially letting you switch swimming off and on at will. The fact it doesn’t take an action is incredibly important, because using the massive 60ft swim speed the ability grants actually removes the bonus, as getting further than 30ft from you makes it fizzle.

I don’t really understand why it would grant 60ft of movespeed if they’re restricted to a 30ft bubble, nor do I understand the purpose of the bubble in the first place. It makes exploration a slog, and escape scenarios more finicky than they should be. Since it can be activated whenever you need to as a free action, the duration feels unneeded. There’s so much about this ability that conflicts with itself that it bugs me too much to say much in the way of positives. The +2 to saves vs Water spells is a fun little ribbon, though most Water spells tend to be harmless utility spells rather than ones you’d need to make a save against.

Boon 3: River’s Depths. 1/day as a standard action, you can cause one creature within 30 feet to begin drowning, filling its lungs with water. The target of this ability can attempt a Fortitude save (DC = 10 + 1/2 your HD + your Wis mod) to negate the effect. If the target succeeds, it is staggered for 1 round. If it fails, the target immediately begins to suffocate. On the target’s next turn, it falls unconscious and is reduced to 0 hit points. One round later, the target drops to –1 hit points and is dying. One round after that, the target dies. Each round, the target can attempt a Fortitude save to end the effect. This ability affects only living creatures that must breathe and cannot breathe underwater. This is a curse effect.

Now this one’s just insulting, being a technically weaker version of a level 5 spell, Suffocation. It’s weaker in four ways: 1) It fails against creatures which are amphibious which, if you’re in the River Kingdoms, is many. 2) It’s curse effect, which can mean some creatures are resistant or immune to it. 3) It has a 30ft range, unlike Suffocation’s range of Close (25ft + 5ft/level). And, finally, 4) Just ONE successful save ends the effect entirely, while Suffocation continues to torment and stagger the victim for 3 rounds until its effects finally expire.

It’s hard to ignore fact that it’s a basically a Save-Or-Die with excellent DC scaling, but I can’t get over it being weaker than an existing level 5 spell! ... Granted, Suffocation could probably get away with being bumped an extra level or two higher given how frighteningly effective it is at shutting down any creature who needs to breathe even if they succeed their save. I’m probably slamming down too hard on an ability that, again, is a Save-Or-Die at best and an unavoidable stagger at worst (good for making some emergency repairs against a powerful full-attacker), and for extra fun can be used without any components involved, so you can just drop it on someone out of the blue and they’ll have no idea who just tried to kill them. While I am disappointed it doesn’t meet the power of other Boons, it’s undeniably effective against a large portion of the creatures you’ll be fighting, even at 1/day.

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SENTINEL

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Boon 1: River Warden. Gain Wave Shield 3/day, Masterwork Transformation 2/day, or Quench 1/day.

Wave Shield is one of those rare spells that are amazing to have, but not especially good to prepare or to waste a precious Spells Known slot on. It’s an immediate action spell that grants insurmountable DR and Fire Resistance equal to half your caster level in response to a single incoming attack, which isn’t stupendous at low levels but is a generous equivalent to immediate, on-demand temporary HP as you get higher and higher level. If a creature relies on a lot of little hits rather than a few big ones, blocking even one of them can save you in the long run, and if your DR cancels out the damage from a poisoned or diseased attack, all the better!

It’s not an especially strong spell given how it only works once before fading away, but it’s better than the other two options by a country mile. Masterwork Transformation is something you’ll rarely need more than a few times in a campaign before masterwork items fall into your laps (or you can simply buy them), and by the time you gain this ability it will likely no longer matter. That being said, if you’re in a low-wealth campaign or have been forced to scavenge for your gear, Masterwork Transformation will save you THOUSANDS of gp over the course of your life, because as a spell-like, the material components are ignored and thus you can slowly upgrade your entire party’s armaments for free. Given its ability to affect a generous 50 pieces of ammunition per casting as well means the Ranger and Gunslinger will adore you, and you can work in tandem with a mystic craftsman (PC or otherwise) to get all of your favorite gear enchanted without discarding your precious family heirloom sword for that masterwork one you looted.

Not to mention the simple joy in taking all the gear off a bandit clan, Masterworking all of it, and selling it for a tidy profit.

Compared to the combat utility of Wave Shield and noncombat utility of Masterwork Transformation, it’s hard to make a case for Quench, which falls into the category of ‘niche spell’ like Water Breathing and Water Walking in that it will instantly solve a handful of scenarios and be utterly useless in the rest. Yes, you may need to put out a forest fire or stop a building you’re in from burning to a crisp, but you’ll have to decide if it’s worth giving up three emergency DR 4/-- and Fire Resistance 4 bandages... as the martial-focused Sentinel. If you plan on fighting a fire that day or encountering a magic item that can generate fires (which Quench shuts off for 1d4 hours) and no one else in your party bothered learning Quench, by all means, but as the Sentinel having the DR is probably better in most cases.

Boon 2: River Champion. 3/day as a standard action, you can sculpt water into the form of a melee weapon that you are proficient with. You must have enough water to form the weapon, an amount equal to the weapon’s normal weight. Once formed, the weapon behaves as a weapon of its type with an enhancement bonus of +1, which increases by 1 for every 5 additional HD you have beyond 5 (max +4). This weapon deals double damage to creatures with the Fire subtype. The weapon dissolves into ordinary water after a number of rounds equal to your HD or as soon as it leaves your hand, whichever happens first.

Boons which call weapons to your hand are alright in cases where your signature weapon has been taken from you, and by the time you receive this ability you will have a signature weapon, but such times tend to come few and far between. This one also has the additional caveat that you don’t actually create the weapon from nowhere, there must already be water around to make it, at least enough water to match the weapon’s typical weight. The good news is that a gallon of water weighs about 8 pounds, and a trident--Hanspur’s holy weapon--weighs only 4, with most other weapons barely ever approaching 10, so you can reasonably carry around an emergency weapon in a waterskin or in your backpack... And you know, now that I think about it, it’s kind of cool to be able to turn a glass of water into a dagger.

But when will you need to? How often do you find yourself bereft of a usable weapon often enough to need an emergency armament like this? I can see the niche in front of me, making a new weapon as-needed against creatures whose DR makes them difficult to damage with your normal gear or taking advantage of that delicious little tidbit about doing double-damage to fire-based creatures, but they take your whole standard action to make and last for only a single combat (if that), and you can’t even shuffle around the +1 bonuses for additional effects!

Don’t get me wrong, it’s by no means bad (unless you’re both in a waterless area and haven’t filled your waterskin), especially at 3/day, but I can’t help but wonder when you’d actually need it at level 11+ when you likely already have a primary weapon and several backups.

Boon 3: River’s Renewal. When completely submerged in water, you gain Fast Healing 2. You can recover a total number of hit points equal to twice your HD in this manner each day. At 20 HD, if you fall below 0 hit points and your body is fully submerged in a river, you automatically stabilize.

As a final Boon, I wish the Fast Healing had a higher threshold than just 28 points a day (+2 per level). In combat it likely won’t matter, and while out of combat it’s a decent amount of healing, usually enough to spare a couple spell slots from your healers or some potions, it’s just not all that impressive for a third and final Boon. Sentinels are the only followers of Hanspur who don’t get some method to easily navigate the seas, so taking advantage of this Boon to its fullest extent relies on an outside method of gaining water breathing or a swim speed.

Funnily enough, you can carry around a Bag of Holding filled with water and use it as a recuperative pod in case you don’t have access to a deep puddle, which is dubiously useful but not entirely terrible. HOWEVER, the little addition at the end is also a kick in the teeth; why does that only happen at level 20? Why can’t that be a base part of the Boon? It’s just insul--Wait, it only works if you’re submerged in a river, too? You can’t stabilize with some good old pond water? The mighty ocean? Can’t take a dip in a bathtub to stop bleeding out? Come on, Hanspur!!! Be a little more generous to your worshipers!

I dunno, maybe I’m underselling the out-of-combat healing this Boon offers, but it just doesn’t feel worth it to put up with the Water Rat for your entire adventuring career just for an extra 1/8th of an HP bar.

You can read more about him here.

#Spiritual Spotlight #Neutrality Notes #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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arashikitten · 3 years

Text

The Light that Burns Twice as Bright Burns Half as Long

When Macaque had first spotted the kid, he had immediately been drawn to him. The aura that seemed to flicker from him was warm, bright and comforting like a ray of sunlight in the afternoon. It was strong and silly, like a child’s laughter, but there was power hidden there, raw and ancient and monstrous, like that of a malicious trickster deity toying with humanity for the hell of it.

The realization snapped into him only when he finally noticed the ornate, red and gold staff strapped to the kid’s back, the familiarity slamming into him with the force of a crashing mountain, crushing him beneath it’s oppressive wieght.

That was Wukong’s staff. The Monkey King’s most well known weapon and source of power.

And it was being wielded by a child. Anger had bubbled in Macaque then, simmering and burning away at the corners of his vision like lava.

He’d contemplated, then, whether or not he should just kill the boy then and there and be done with the day. It would be so simple, just a quick snap of the neck. Humans were so fragile, it was honestly a miracle they had lasted so long in the face of much more powerful, demonic creatures.

Macaque had dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it came. No, the boy would likely be more useful to him alive. Macaque lifted one of his paws, and quickly summoned the small purple seal. He grinned before clenching his fist, extinguishing it in a small trail of smoke.

Yes, that was a much better idea than killing him outright. Sure, it would require patience, and a lot of acting on his part, but if all went according to plan…

Macaque backed into the dark shadows of the alleyway, reveling in the darkness they brought as they consumed him. A sharp smirk grew on his face.

Watching Wukong’s face as he destroyed him with his own powers would be so much more satisfying than just killing some kid.

——————— ——————— ——————— ———————

His first real meeting with the kid had been… interesting. Everything had gone according to plan, of course: catch the kid’s attention with a shadow clone avatar, have the avatar beat him, show up and defeat the avatar while looking as cool as possible. The kid had been impressed, and Macaque could feel the admiration pouring off of him in waves as he had scrambled to the top of the building Macaque was on.

It was a nice feeling.

One that had been completely shattered when the kid had realized he wasn’t Wukong, and had ever so kindly pointed that out.

But Macaque, with his impressive self-restraint, was able to just barely bite down the growl crawling up his throat, turning his grimace into an awkward smile. He needed the kid’s trust, and he couldn’t have that if he snapped at him.

Maybe this was a bad idea, a part of him thought. He wasn’t exactly known for his patience, or his people skills, and the kid would probably be comparing him to Wukong the entire time if Macaque did decide to “train” him.

Yeah, no thank you.

But as Macaque started to leave, the kid jumped up yet again, rushing in front of him with clear awe and excitement.

“Can you teach me that awesome thing?!” Oh hell, he looked so excited and hopeful, like he really wanted Macaque to teach him. Macaque backed away slightly, so the kid wasn’t up in his face.

“Uhh… don’t you already have a master? I thought Monkey king was training you?” Please take the bait please take the bait…

Thankfully, the kid did, backing away slightly and, to Macaque’s surprise, looking a bit… disappointed. Like he wasn’t getting what he wanted from training with the great Sun Wukong.

Suddenly, that small voice of doubt vanished in Macaque, replaced by interest. Maybe… maybe he should continue with this plan. He smiled to himself, anticipation brewing in his gut like a storm.

“But you can never have too many teachers, right? I’m sure Monkey King would agree? It’s not like he’d want to hold you back!” Yes, Macaque could see the temptation growing in the kid. He could also see the beginnings of doubt, dissatisfaction toward the Monkey King being stoked by Macaque’s carefully chosen words.

“Ummm… Yeah! Yes, he’d totally be cool with it!” That was a blatant lie, but Macaque let it slide. He needed the kid’s trust if he wanted this plan to work.

He slung his arm around the kid’s shoulder, leading him to the edge of the building. He called the seal to his fingertips as he did so, quietly pushing it into the kid’s aura to slowly feed off it, before letting his paw slide from Xiaotian’s back.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

——————— ——————— ——————— ———————

Macaque was losing his mind.

Three days. That was all it should’ve taken for the seal to fill up completely. That was the most it ever had taken, and that was only because Macaque had been unable to complete it at the time. So, the seal on Xiaotian’s back should’ve been full to bursting.

And yet, when Macaque had finally decided to check it, he’d found that it was barely 5% full. At first, he’d thought it was because the kid hadn’t been using his full power. But then he’d thought back to the day before when, in a fit of frustration, the kid had blasted a hole clean through the side of a small mountain. Aside from scaring the absolute shit out of Macaque, because holy fuck this kid is strong, that one blast alone should’ve filled up at least 20% of the seal. Clearly, that was not the case.

Which left two options: either a) Macaque hadn’t correctly applied the seal (an idea that was very quickly disproven with a second check), or b) the kid’s aura was so strong, it was messing with his seal. It was honestly the only option that made even a bit of sense. After all, the kid’s presence had been enough to draw Macaque’s attention even when he was in a large crowd of people.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much that Macaque could do to fix that. Maybe if the seal had been incomplete, he could remove it and replace the old seal with a new, complete one. It would’ve been a pain, sure, but he could stand to wait an extra day or so. But this… this wasn’t something that he could fix. If he removed the seal now, then all his hard work from the past three days would go to waste, and he could not let that happen.

Macaque sighed as he sat next to Xiaotian. The kid was out cold, curled up on the small futon that Macaque had set up in one of the rooms of his dojo. The kid had been exhausted, worked to the bone by his boss, Sun Wukong, and Macaque himself, and had come into the dojo two hours earlier with dark purple bags under his eyes and a bad case of bedhead. They’d trained for about an hour before Macaque had told the kid to get some sleep, unable to watch the kid try to clumsily strike him only to trip over his own feet.

It was odd, really. Macaque typically wasn’t the type to enjoy being with others. He was a loner, had been for hundreds of years now. And he’d enjoyed it! No burdensome connections, no one to carry but himself, no one to tie him down to any one place. Besides, he found humans to be too annoying and needy, and demons were often so pretentious it made Macaque’s eyes want to roll out of his head. In short, he didn’t like being with other people.

And yet, the kid had somehow managed to begin worming his way through all of Macaque’s barriers with an ease that, if he was being honest, scared him a fair bit. He’d spent years, years, building up those walls, making sure that every crack, every little weakness, was sealed up and airtight.

Only for a kid, who Macaque had absolutely planned on killing, and whom he had only met three days ago, to bypass all of that as fast as though the walls had never even existed.

That was why Macaque was starting to panic. If he got attached, if he actually started to care about Xiaotian- no, he couldn’t start calling the kid by his name, he’d get even more attached- if he actually started to care about the kid, then not only would he be unable to execute his plan, he’d be making himself vulnerable. He’d give himself a weakness, one that other demons would exploit.

He could not, under any circumstances, let that happen. He needed to distance himself from the kid as much as possible, while still “training” him and filling the seal. It would take a couple of months, a lot of patience, and really, really good acting on his part, but he could do it.

Besides, the kid was the apprentice of his worst enemy. How hard could it be?

—————— —————— —————— —————— ——————

He couldn’t believe this. It was absurd. Ridiculous. An absolute waste of his time. And beyond that…

“C’mon Macaque! I need to show you this one game! You’re gonna love it!!”

...It was embarrassing. It was so, so embarrassing.

Qi Xiaotian had come into his dojo about an hour earlier, somehow buzzing with even more energy than usual and excitement making his eyes glitter like a diamond in the sunlight. When Macaque had asked the kid what had him so excited that he was literally vibrating, he’d expected it to be something along the lines of ‘Wukong finally taught me a new move’, or something else related to the Monkey king.

What he had not expected was for the kid to start ranting about some video game that had just come out today. The kid had been talking so fast that Macaque couldn’t understand about 90% of what the kid said, and the 10% he could make out made no goddamned sense. Who the hell was Minecraft Steve? And on top of that, what the fuck is a “Sans”?

When the kid had finally finished, Macaque had sat there for a moment, just trying to process what had just happened. He’d probably looked like an absolute idiot, just sitting there staring.

When he’d finally found his voice, he’d said that it sounded interesting, and that he knew Xiaotian would have fun playing it. That was when things started to go downhill.

As they had been walking to the training area, the kid had asked him what video games he played. He’d sounded genuinely interested too, like he really cared about what Macaque did in his free time (like he actually cared about Macaque). Without thinking, Macaque had responded that he didn’t play video games, preferring to use his time to train or carve stuff.

At that point his fate was sealed.

The kid gasped, giving Macaque a scandalized look. It was almost comical, and he’d had to bite back a snort.

“You’ve NEVER PLAYED A VIDEO GAME?!!” The kid gave him an incredulous look, mouth gaping. Macaque rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, his tail twitching nervously.

“Ummmm… no? It’s not that big a deal-“ Macaque was cut off by the kid grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the dojo. Shit, this was not going as planned.

Macaque dug his feet into the floor, halting Qi Xiaotian even as he struggled to tug Macaque along with him. The kid was strong, he’d give him that. He’d actually struggled a bit to stay in place.

“Whoa whoa whoa, easy there kid. What’s with the hurry?”

“You’ve never played a video game! How is it that you’ve never played a video game?!” Macaque shrugged nonchalantly.

“I have other, more important things to do. Besides, they can’t be that good-“

They’d argued over that for a while, until Xiaotian had gotten the idea to take the dark monkey to an arcade a few blocks away. That was when it happened.

Macaque had opened his mouth, the word no already on his tongue, when the kid had given him this look. It reminded Macaque of a kicked puppy, except somehow even sadder and more pleading, and suddenly he’d found himself agreeing to go. Which was how he ended up standing in a shitty, loud, brightly colored arcade with an excitable young human buzzing around him like a hummingbird.

Macaque couldn’t even get frustrated about it. Oh, he’d been pissed on the walk here, for sure. But then the kid had smiled at him, and he looked so goddamned happy that Macaque was going with that he couldn’t find it in himself to snap at him. He’d even started to feel excited about going, before he remembered that arcades are loud and smelly and full of people, and by that point it had already been too late.

“OH MY GOD, THEY HAVE MONKEY MECH 3??!?! MACAQUE WE HAVE TO PLAY IT!!!” Still, he couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face as his protege dragged him toward one of the brightly colored games.

—————— —————— —————— —————— ——————

Shit. Shit. Shit. How had he let this happen? How could he have been so damn stupid?

Macaque paced the darkened halls of the dojo, tearing at his hair in frustration. Xiaotian- no, the kid, he was the kid dammit- was fast asleep in one of the small office rooms, curled up on the spare futon that had effectively become his bed. Training had run far longer than either of them had been expecting, and it had started pouring rain as well. The kid had shyly asked Macaque if he could stay the night and, wanting to check on the seal’s progress, Macaque had obliged.

It was more than two thirds of the way full. Which, given that a month and a half had passed since he last checked it, made sense.

What didn’t make sense was the distinct dread that overcame him upon that discovery, turning his insides to ice and causing worry to twist in his stomach. Dread quickly turned to confusion, which became anger, which gave way to one hell of a realization.

He’d fucking grown attached. The one person in the world that he needed to emotionally distant from, and of course Macaque had gotten attached. It was just… he’d never had anyone be genuinely happy or excited to hang out with him, or talk to him, or anything like that. Most people who saw him tended to shy away or, if they knew who he was, bolt in terror. And in the past few hundred years, he’d grown accustomed to that.

And then there was Xiaotian, who actively sought him out, who really enjoyed being with Macaque, who actually talked to Macaque like he was really interested in what he had to say, and who smiled at him whenever he entered the dojo, and who treated him like an actual goddamned person. Macaque had never gotten to feel that before, like someone really gave a damn about him.

And slowly, Macaque had begun to feel the same about Xiaotian. He found himself genuinely interested in whatever the kid would rattle on about, found himself feeling actual concern whenever the kid showed up to train with bruises or injuries. He’d grown fond of the kid, with their training time becoming his favorite part of the day.

Which would be great, if it wasn’t for two little things: a), the kid is also being mentored by his worst enemy, and b), MACAQUE WAS STILL PLANNING ON BETRAYING THE KID! Except now, the mere thought of that made Macaque feel sick with guilt as he imagined the confused, hurt look Xiaotian would give him if he did, and Macaque knew he wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

But he didn’t have a choice! If he didn’t do this, if he didn’t go through with the plan, then he’d lose everything! All that progress, all that hard work, wasted! He’d be alone for the rest of his life…

And if you do go through with it, you’ll end up pushing away the only person who cares about you.

Macaque froze, ramrod straight. His arms fell to his sides as the sounds of the night permeated the air. He stood in the darkness, surrounded by the shadows of his regret.

“Oh,” he said quietly, as tears dropped from his cheeks onto the cold, wooden floor.

—————— —————— —————— ——————

He removed the seal that night, while the kid was asleep. It had been easy, easier than he expected, and the resulting golden glow from the kid’s aura made it worth it. He’d basked in the glow until he’d finally fallen asleep, and when he woke up the next morning, the kid was gone. He’d panicked at first, believing that Xiaotian had somehow found out about the seal and the plan and that he hated Macaque now and was gonna get Sun Wukong and-

And then he’d seen the kid’s note, saying that he needed to go to work and he’d be back at around 6:00, and Macaque breathed a sigh of relief.

Before cringing slightly at his earlier panic. It hadn’t even been a whole day since he’d decided not to betrayXiaotian, and he was already panicking about the kid turning his back on him? What was he, the kid's father?

Some deep part of him said yes, before he quickly shoved it back down. No, he was not the kid’s parent. Mentor? Maybe. Friend? Honestly, yeah. Parent? Hell fucking no. He already had enough to worry about without mother-henning the reckless young adult.

Slowly, Macaque went about his day. Went out into the city to get (read: steal) food, fought a demon or two for the hell of it, watched people from atop a building, before he headed back to the Dojo to get ready for the day’s training session with Xiaotian.

Macaque checked the clock as he finished up. 5:55. Excitement rose within him. The kid said he would be here at six; he should be arriving soon.

Macaque tried to hide his excitement as he waited, leaning against the front door. He’d gotten rid of the seal, Wukong didn’t know about him, and Xiaotian still wanted to train with him. All in all, this had been a good 24 hours, Macaque thought.

The minutes ticked by. 6:00 became 6:30, which became 7:00. Excitement become concern, which became anxiety. Xiaotian was never, ever this late. Hell, the kid would usually be so excited to train that he’d show up ten minutes early, before Macaque would be fully prepared.

Macaque checked his new phone (Courtesy of an impromptu shopping spree with Xiaotian). Nothing from the kid saying he would be late. Actually, aside from a message from this morning that mirrored the paper note he’d found on his desk, there was nothing at all.

That was what spurred Macaque to start running through the city, leaping across rooftops with ease. In just a few minutes, he was almost to the kid’s apartment, wind in his fur as he turned the corner-

Rubble. Yellow police tape everywhere. Massive scorch marks that streaked the walls and ground. One of the walls of the apartment had been destroyed, leaving a gaping hole.

There was the scent of blood and burning flesh.

Macaque couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t B R E A T H E.

He stumbled away from the scene from the flashing light of police cars and the scent, that horrible scent-

It was Xiaotian’s scent. Gods, that was Xiaotian’s scent, mixed in with the blood and burned flesh, and something had- someone had hurt him- someone had hurt his kid-

He was running now, rushing to the hospital because his kid was injured and he needed to be there to make sure he was alive and ok, because he couldn’t lose the one person on the goddamned planet who cared, or he would go insane. Guilt crashed over him in waves, he should’ve been there-

He doesn’t remember the trip to the hospital. He doesn’t remember transforming into a finch and flying around the building, doesn’t remember the search at all.

He does, however, remember finally finding the kid’s room. He does, however, remember the short, old doctor saying that he had several 3rd degree burns, multiple broken bones, and that he may never be able to see out of his left eye ever again.

He remembers, so vividly, finally catching sight of the kid’s battered and burned form, bandages obscuring the entire left side of his face, an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose.

He will forever remember just how pale the kid looked.

Like he was dead.

Macaque flew to the roof of the hospital, clumsily transforming back as he skidded to a stop. He fell to his knees, staring numbly down at the concrete rooftop. He was dimly aware of the tears that silently streaked down his face, but he could not feel them.

He couldn’t feel much of anything.

Why? Why couldn’t he have just one person who cared? Why did the universe have to take the only person who gave a damn?

Anger, slow and hot, began to burn at the tears. Why the hell did Xiaotian have to be the one to get hurt? Was it karma for Macaque? Was it the universe’s way of getting revenge for all of his misdeeds?

But if that was the case, then why had Xiaotian been the one who got hurt? Why had Xiaotian been the one to almost die, to have his bones shattered, his flesh burned, his blood spilled? Why hadn’t Macaque been the one to suffer, instead of a kid who did nothing but give a monster hope to be better?

“WHY??!!”, Macaque screamed to the heavens, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TAKE-ta-take me….. wh-why didn’t you take me instead...why….” his voice broke into a whisper, as his tears burned like liquid fire in his eyes.

The heavens, cold and uncaring and so unlike Xiaotian’s warmth and light and kindness, gave him no answer.

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serendipityunho · 4 years

Text

𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐙 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨

↳ 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

what could go wrong with agreeing to wear these ridiculous panties with a control system on a phone? so many things. but was it worth it? absolutely.

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠:

oh lord what a night you had gotten yourself in, hongjoong is the biggest tease. he’d absolutely enjoy watching you squirm in your seat with that signature smirk of his. you thought the only suffering was coming from the panties? you thought wrong.

hongjoong will not hesitate to take the extra mile to have you cumming in your seat at least once, raising the sensitivity every time a member at the table struck a conversation with you. heck, he’d even slide a finger or two up there. hongjoong would slide his hand up and down your thigh before resting it completely at the lining of your panties underneath your skirt.

but, he’d make sure to turn down the sensitivity as he pressed two fingers against your clit, digging the vibrating material against your sensitive bud of nerves.

hongjoong would circle his fingers on your clit, making you bite down on your lip to suppress a whimpering moan.

your legs would shut tightly, straightening yourself to make it seem as natural as possible.

when hongjoong sensed you were about to cum off the vibrating friction against your clit, he’d increase the sensitivity, making your fists ball up and fingers digging into your palms.

after that, he’d turn it off and let you calm down, sliding his hand down to rub your thigh.

“I just want to taste you right here right now”

𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚:

it was an instant red flag the moment seonghwa took you out of the house wearing those red lacy vibrating panties underneath your dress.

seonghwa was sadistic enough, teasing you in public and now this? your suffering was his ecstasy and he wanted more.

more to the point of leaving the sensitivity to its maximum level for minutes on end

smirking at your furrowed brows and swollen lips from your bites with a devilish look.

you couldn’t even walk straight, knees dropping with every few steps you took.

sitting down would only make it worse, it would give seonghwa the opportunity to let his fingers do the dirty work too.

except he’d keep the sensitivity on max level while he finger banged you in some parking lot or bathroom with the material of your vibrating panties just brushing over your throbbing clit.

it was just a walk in the park for him, literally, a walk in the park with you by his side falling weak in the knees as he soaked in the view.

“Are you having fun, princess? I can give you more”

𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨:

such an innocent looking smile right? right.

that innocence is long gone the moment you stepped foot outside your door, just casually strolling down the hallway of your apartment building until yunho decided to send you on a rollercoaster of emotions.

you didn’t realise you’d slipped on the pair of panties he ordered until you turned around to see him smirking at his phone.

that motherfucker raise the sensitivity bar to the top.

your legs would shut harshly whenever he changed the levels, making you hissing and whimpering as you clung onto yunho’s arm.

but of course he’d act as innocent as he can.

yunho knew he had you slipped under your sub-space the moment you quietly moaned at the slightest touch of his fingertips, making him gaze at you with droopy eyes and a snarky smirk.

both of you didn’t have any patience at all.

you were quick to locate an isolated area, pushing yunho up against the wall as you made out with him.

his hands spread your ass cheeks apart, making the panties dig deeper against your pussy.

the vibrations sent you crazy, making yunho push forward his leg between yours.

yunho’s thigh would press against the vibrating panties, practically grinding on his thigh standing up.

“You’re so sexy when you’re needy”

𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠:

he’s just having the best time of his life, watching you giggle until he pressed ‘on’

still having the best time of his life watching you whine for more as he kept the sensitivity too low for your liking.

yeosang would be teasing you for begging and touching him up as he controlled the vibrating panties you wore.

you’d be acting all seductive, trying to gain his attention or make him as horny as you were in hopes to get some sort of relief.

but yeosang would just pretend like you were acting normally, talking to you normally but with a subtle smirk carved on his cocky face.

if you were being a good girl and stopped whining, yeosang would raise the sensitivity a little more, making you crave more and more for him.

you wondered how yeosang kept his patience with you and not rip off both of your clothings.

turns out he likes your whining and begging.

when you had enough and resorted to being a brat, he’d push you against the wall, shoving a hand down your panties to shut you up and kiss your lips as he slipped his fingers into you.

“I liked it when you begged. But now you’re getting on my last nerves”

𝐒𝐚𝐧:

horny motherfucker doesn’t have the time to tease you.

he’ll use those vibrating panties to help you get off along with his fingers as you wrapped yours around his dick.

okay, maybe he’ll tease you for a little bit in the beginning, but then he’s just like ‘fuck it’ so he’ll pull you on top of his lap and have you grinding on his crotch with your vibrating panties set at a high sensitivity level.

you’re basically in heaven, with his lips kissing every inch of your neck and his hands on your hips to rock you back and forth against his crotch and vibrator digging into your clit.

it didn’t take long for your clothes to hit the floor and him between your legs.

san still had a little bit of patience left in him, lowering his face down to your pussy as he rubbed your clothed clit with his thumb and sensitivity moderately low.

he’d keep your clit covered with the vibrating section, sliding the other bit for his tongue to sink deep into your hole

“Money well spent”

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢:

if we’re being honest, mingi probably wouldn’t even know how it’d work.

but after experimenting and observing the constant changing expressions on your face, he knew he’d have fun.

it was only sometimes you had the regret of introducing him to vibrating panties.

mingi had the smartest idea to invite the other members over to ‘hang out’

he really just wanted to test your poker face with the sensitivity all the way up

his eyes would turn dark full of lust the moment he saw your sub-space look on your face.

after what seemed like forever, the boys would leave and mingi would snake his arms around your waist, letting his hands drop to your ass and squeeze them before landing a swift kiss on your lips with his leg pushing the vibrator against your clit.

“These things are weird, but I like ‘em”

𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠:

the risk of getting caught by another member was thrilling for wooyoung.

especially when the room was dead silent as someone picked a movie, wooyoung would turn the sensitivity right up and cause those vibrating noises.

it was then you needed to forcefully create a conversation as a distraction from what was happening under the blanket.

you integrated your moans with your chuckles into the conversations as wooyoung stayed silent, watching your every move to try and block out what was happening.

when it got dark, wooyoung slipped a hand under your shorts, slowly rubbing your clit with his fingers flat against it and thumb rubbing your inner thigh.

you were grateful for the blanket covering your bodies otherwise everyone would’ve peaked a glance at what was happening.

you had you bite down on the blanket with your hand underneath it to keep quiet and not draw attention.

wooyoung wasn’t very happy about that, and when he’s not happy with something, he’ll make sure you learn by being petty and not give you any contact, any touch, and any relief.

“Don’t hold back your moans next time”

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨:

it was just like any other toy he kept for you, only this time he can use it subtly whenever and wherever.

but using it between the two of you was more intimate in his opinion.

it was a very slow makeout session with a low sensitivity, you could definitely feel the love.

it escalated the moment he raised the bar, making you kiss him hungrily and hint for more as the pleasure of the vibrating panties shock-waved through your body.

jongho smirked against the kiss and let one of his hands glide down under your panties, still letting your clit feel the vibrations.

he slipped two fingers into you, pumping them in and out at the pace of the vibrator, making your mind cloud with lust and nothing else.

you rolled your hips slightly, close to cumming and jongho could sense it.

that was when he stopped and slid a hand underneath your shirt and caressing your breasts.

“I want to feel you cum around me”

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pars-ley · 3 years

Note

Uuuuhh you got some good prompts there!!!

It was hard for me to decide buuuut I found something!

May I request Jinyoung in a fake dating AU with prompt 9 and 13? A sweet combo of fluff and angst 🥺🥰

Anyway congrats on your milestone! And I hope you'll have fun writing something with this 😁

Torn to pieces

Pairing: Jinyoung x F reader

Summary: You're best friend pretending to be your boyfriend. What could possibly go wrong? One of you making a big confession you can't take back.

Genre: Angst / Fluff / Fake dating au /

Rating: 15+ (SFW)

Warnings: Heavy Angst

Word Count: 1.4k

Beta reader: @gotparadise thank you so much!

A/N: Thank you to @amazing-flurryfries for requesting, I had fun with this one. Thank you to @wheresmymoniat for your lovely comments and advice.

Asking your best friend to be your date to your annual work party might not have been the best idea. But in order to get your flirtatious, pest of a colleague, Jackson off your case you had deemed it necessary. Since you had refused a date with him, a story of a new boyfriend fell from your lips before you could stop it. Jinyoung had come here to help you save the day and save face.

But as you sit and watch him talking politely to one of your female colleagues, him being his usual charming self and her, pawing at him as if he were her pet. A jealous rage alights inside you making your stomach twist with envy.

What you would give to have him look at you the way he's looking at her. You're not blind to the heat warming his dark eyes or the lust stretching his mouth into a provocative smile.

Your eyes blaze into them from across the room by the bar. When she touches his leg, her hand lingering longer than necessary, you lose it.

Downing your champagne, you place your glass back on the wooden bartop a little too hard, the noise drawing unwanted eyes and you decide to leave. Embarrassing yourself tonight wasn't on the agenda.

You strut towards them, eyes unwavering from her sickly sweet smile and her fluttering lashes.

"I'm going home. Feel free to stay." You say sharply, unable to meet his gaze before turning and strutting to the elevators. Once inside and alone, you collapse against the mirrored wall. An angry tear escapes, leaving a hot trail of the rejection and betrayal you feel. You swipe at it furiously, attempting to bury everything back down to where it should be. Hidden and out of sight.

As the doors open you throw your coat around you and greet the cold, blustery night.

You hear someone calling you in the distance, glancing back you see him. The man who has meant everything to you for so long, too long. The man who does not realize you have given him the key to your heart and unlocking it would be just for him.

Or if he has and is choosing to ignore it.

Then your biggest fear of unrequited love would be true and that would be much harder to deal with. Having to face reality rather than living with the tiny amount of hope still alight inside you.

You wait as he jogs over, unable to resist him.

"What are you doing? We've only been here for an hour." He says, his words causing slight embarrassment to creep towards the surface of your cheeks.

"Yea and about 45 minutes of that you've spent talking to the same person, who is not me by the way. I didn't bring you here so you could spend the whole night chatting someone else up." You reply, attempting to keep your irritation to a minimum.

He laughs. "Ok, ok, I'm sorry but come on...she's hot. How about you get me her number discreetly, let her in on the situation, so she knows I'm available?"

Flames spread through you, alighting your veins and igniting everything like uncontrollable wildfire.

"Well it didn't seem to bother her that you were with me anyway, so I don't think that will be necessary." You turn and walk off, hoping to sate your anger the further from him you get. Trying to ignore his words repeating inside your head over and over, making you feel sick.

You feel his fingers on your arm, stopping you and turning you back to him. "What's the matter? This isn't you."

A bitter laugh escapes you before you can help it. "You don't know everything about me, clearly, otherwise you would realise."

He stares at you perplexed, eyes searching yours for answers. You stare back willing him to understand, to realize but he breaks away, rubbing his face.

"Please, just tell me what's wrong. I hate you being upset and I don't know how to make it better." His pleading extinguishes some of your rage induced flames as his words tug on your heartstrings.

Whatever is left of your fury finds its way escaping out of your eyes and running down your cheeks once again. You can't hold them in.

His hands are there, cradling your face and wiping them away. You automatically lean into his touch but freeze as soon as you realize your action, moving away from him completely.

The look of hurt across his face makes your stomach churn but for the sake of your sanity you can't let yourself tumble any deeper.

"Wh...have I done something or said something? Have I hurt you? You must tell me, I can't bear the thought of you upset with me."

You planned to make him feel better, make an excuse, blaming it on something else, but the words that leave your mouth shock you just as much as him, "I love you, okay, like stupid, moronic, ridiculous love."

You both freeze, eyes wide and alarmed. Your mirrored expressions would seem comical in different circumstances.

Everything stops; time, your breathing, your heart, waiting for words to be spoken...anything to make this painful silence end.

The longer you wait, staring at him with pleading eyes, the longer you're met with a panicked stare. One that burns a hole right into your chest. One that makes you feel empty inside. One that makes your fears come to life as you realise, he can't give you what you want, what you're so forlorn for.

"You can't even say the words I'm so desperate to hear from you, can you?" You whisper, attempting to swallow the painful lump formed in your throat.

He blinks at you, mouth open but no sound leaving those perfectly full lips. It's all the response you need as you turn and head for home. Hugging your coat tightly around you, taking comfort in the warm embrace.

He calls out to you more than once but you don't look back. You don't want him to see the tears streaming down your face or the pain in your eyes. You practically feel your heart tearing and ripping itself into rejected shreds, pooling at the bottom of your stomach, rendering itself useless and slowly giving up.

The walk home is long as cold air clings to your damp cheeks making you shiver. It isn't long before you crawl into bed, still in your party attire and full face of smudged makeup, and hiding under the covers trying to forget this whole night.

***

A noise disturbs you from your drowsy state, not quite under the blanket of sleep but greeting it with open arms waiting for it to take you. The pain is too great however, your mind keeps replaying the moment, as if you need to be reminded. As if you are being punished for loving.

That noise again. Knocking. Someone's at the door. You pull the blanket up over your head. Whoever it is, they'll go away.

Another knock. You can't bring yourself to care. It's only when you hear the jingle of keys you realise someone is in your house.

You stiffen, peeking out from the covers, there's only one person who has a spare key. When you hear him calling your name your chest blazes red, the edges of the giant hole where your heart used to be, pulsing agony through you. You plead for the ground to swallow you up whole so you can disappear.

Your body tenses when he climbs under the covers with you, his angelic face suddenly too close to yours.

"Do you remember when my grandmother died and I was so upset, I couldn't eat?" He begins.

You give a small nod, not having the energy for much more.

"Do you remember what you said to me?" He asks.

You frown as you try to recall, coming up empty.

"You told me, let your heart feel." He whispers.

You remember now. What is the purpose of this? Your heart is feeling many things you don't want it too but it's out of your control.

"Do you know what I felt in that moment?"

You shake your head.

He lifts a finger to your face and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Love. Even in my darkest time, I looked at you and felt nothing but love...stupid, moronic ridiculous love."

You listen to his words rattle about in your hazy mind. One word in particular trying to get through the fog. Love.

Him echoing your exact words glueing the torn pieces of your heart together, the pure adoration in his eyes stitching the gaping hole shut and his lips meeting yours fill your heart with life again.

#got7writerscollective #got7 #got7 jinyoung #got7 park jinyoung #park jinyoung #jinyoung #got7 fanfic #got7 fanfiction #jinyoung fanfic #jinyoung fanfiction #ahgasae #ahghase

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monabela · 3 years

Text

who wants some corny slice of life lietpol? the answer is me! because I had not written anything yet this year and it felt Bad. I might do more of these little..... moments, for other pairings. it’s a fun exercise in characterization.

sunshine (once again)

characters/pairings: Lithuania (Tolys)/Poland (Feliks) word count: 1800 summary: On a sunny spring day, Feliks can only be glad of where he is right now.

Feliks draws idle shapes on his sketchpad, tracing shadows as they pass through the sunlight. The shadow of the brim of his hat is the base—he imagines it’s the surface of a new planet that he can populate as he wishes.

Irrevocably, though, his eye is drawn away from what is supposed to be work and across the small tiled terrace in the backyard, to where Tolys is humming under his breath and kneeling amid the flowers, carefully digging holes for new ones and removing weeds. There is sunlight in the man’s hair, bringing out both the deep gold and emerging silver among the brown strands. His dirt-caked hands are careful with bulbs and flowers, and quick with weeds.

Looking back down, Feliks draws a vaguely humanoid shape on his sketchpad, which he really shouldn’t be doing because it’s expensive, professional paper, but, well, this sheet is already wasted either way, so he can’t do further harm. It’s relaxing.

Tolys interrupts his humming.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he says, gently. “Get out of here. Go home.”

He’s shooing the neighbor’s cat away when Feliks looks, waving his little spade at it.

“Come on, go on. No, I don’t have anything to eat for you.” Helplessly, he looks over at Feliks when the cat drops itself to its back without preamble as if it’s asking for pets. Feliks sketches an amused little wave and gestures at his nose. Tolys shakes his head, unimpressed but amused.

Well, it is true that Feliks doesn’t usually let his allergies deter him from petting any cat. Or dog. He’s not picky. He just doesn’t feel like getting up right now.

“Get,” Tolys tries again, to the cat. And then, “Well, fine.”

After he pets the cat for four seconds, the animal jumps up and races away, leaving his hand hovering in mid-air. Feliks snorts.

Then innocently looks at his ridiculous drawing so he only hears Tolys’s answering huff.

Before long, the large sheet of paper is just about full of nonsense—although Feliks made an effort at the last moment to at least do some experimental sketches of buildings one might find on this planet of his. Just as a thought exercise. He’s pretty sure the geometry doesn’t make sense on at least two of them.

Tolys, who has by now upgraded to whistling the same tune—or downgraded, maybe, Feliks couldn’t say—is patting the ground around the last sprout into place when he checks, reaching across the other flowers carefully. His sleeveless shirt shows off his shoulders, strong and tanned by the late spring sun. Feliks knows he has freckles there, which fascinates him because there are none anywhere else on his body as far as he’s aware.

A shadow falls over his paper.

“I thought you said you were working,” Tolys says, amused and standing in front of Feliks. He shields his eyes from the sun and tilts his head to look at the drawing.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Feliks shrugs up at him, smiling faintly, and Tolys laughs brightly. When he swipes his hair away from his face, some dirt crumbles off his fingers to slide down his shirt, and he looks at his hands. Feliks shivers at the dirt under his nails. He can practically feel it.

“Remind me that we need gardening gloves.” Tolys picks at his fingernails.

“Got it.”

“I’ll go and wash this off, at least.”

Feliks nods, then puts his sketchpad on the bench next to himself and stands, pushing his hat back a little so he doesn’t hit Tolys in the face with it.

“Do you want some coffee after you’re done?”

“Yes, thanks!”

Waiting for him to take his old sneakers off outside and enter the house through the conservatory, Feliks follows him to start up the coffee maker in the kitchen. He stares absently at the gentle drip of fragrant coffee while the water runs in the bathroom, combing his fingers through his own hair where his hat has flattened it, until Tolys come back downstairs, wearing different clothes and with clean hands.

“Almost done,” Feliks mumbles. Tolys pulls their usual cups down from the cupboards.

When they both have their coffee, they go outside again. Tolys takes a banana as well, which he breaks in half to share with Feliks. Feliks, meanwhile, kicks his slippers off and sits cross-legged on the bench, turning his face to the sun for a moment before shielding it with the hat again.

“Are you done with the garden?” he asks Tolys.

“For now, yes.” He smiles at it over the rim of his coffee cup. “It’ll be beautiful come summer.” Resting his cup on his thigh, he flexes the fingers of his free hand, which, while clean, now look quite red and very dry. Feliks frowns, shoving the last piece of his banana into his mouth.

“Give,” he says, beckoning. Tolys startles and raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Your hands.”

“I’m holding—”

“One hand at a time.” Turning sideways on the bench, shifting the cushions on the wood a bit, Feliks grasps Tolys’s left hand, which is the one closest to him. The man doesn’t say anything, just smiles and cradles his coffee cup with his other hand.

Feliks tsks as he runs a thumb across the new calluses on Tolys’s index finger and palm, holding his hand between both of his own. Feliks’s fingers are small and pale compared to Tolys’s, graphite staining his left hand but the nails smooth and clean. He pushes his thumbs down gently at the base of the palm, sweeping one down over Tolys’s wrist, where his skin is soft and warm.

“I should really have some, ah, like, some hand cream,” he says absently, and Tolys smiles.

“This is good enough.” With the back resting on Feliks’s knee, his hand is limp while it is gently kneaded, only the fingertips curling inwards. Grinning, Feliks taps them with his own as if pressing piano keys, before moving on to Tolys’s fingers.

They’re always thoughtful, those fingers, gentle with flowers and sure with those old-fashioned fountain pens Tolys likes to use for work. They may not know how to play the piano or how to braid very well, but Feliks trusts them to touch him in a way he doesn’t trust many things to. Because Tolys knows when to stop, and Feliks has learned to tell him to do so in return. And to listen.

He warms Tolys’s fingers between his own in the sunshine until he’s satisfied that he’s comfortable and swipes his thumb over his wrist again.

“Let me guess, you want my other hand now,” Tolys says without looking at him, face turned to the sun and eyes closed.

“Well, you do use both of them.”

At that, he opens one mossy green eye to look at Feliks, inclining his head slightly.

“I use the right hand more.”

“All the more reason, then.” Feliks reaches across his body with both hands and grasps his right one, pulling it towards himself. Although Tolys laughs, it’s gentle, and he shifts just enough to be comfortable. He closes his eyes again.

Opens them.

“Don’t forget to drink your coffee.”

Oh, of course. Reluctantly, Feliks drops the hand to grab his coffee and drink it all quickly. He grimaces.

Tolys snickers, then closes his eyes again and looks perfectly innocent.

“Can’t believe you,” Feliks mutters, but he watches the smile curl around Tolys’s lips with warm affection anyway as he picks his hand up again. Despite the gentleness of the smile, it pulls at his cheek and the corner of his eyes, marking the skin with little lines that speak of something true.

“You keep drinking coffee,” Tolys says mildly.

“You keep buying this brand.” He ghosts his fingertips over the sensitive inside of his elbow, which makes him jump just a little, and laughs.

“Feliks.”

He just keeps smiling. It may be cheating a bit to tickle someone when being tickled himself makes Feliks extremely uncomfortable, but Tolys has assured him that he doesn’t mind, every now and then.

When Feliks is done with his right hand as well, Tolys opens his eyes again, looking a little bleary. He blinks, looking up at him from his slight slouch.

“Where did you learn that?” he asks, as if just now realizing what he was actually doing.

Feliks just shrugs. He honestly doesn’t know where he picked up half the things he knows—it just took him a long time to find his way in life, and he took a lot of detours to get there.

“Well, it’s nice.” Tolys turns his hand over to clasp his knee for a moment.

“I could do your head, too,” Feliks puts in, pretty sure he did a course where he learned about scalp massages once.

“Hm. You just want to get in my hair.”

“You like it when I do.”

In response to that, Tolys just smiles innocently. They’ve spent many evenings with Feliks silently braiding and re-braiding Tolys’s thick hair while he listens to music, the man’s head in his lap. Tolys will doze or read a book propped on his chest. It’s a kind of intimacy that suits them both perfectly, and gives Feliks’s restless fingers something to do.

“My head got quite sweaty, actually,” Tolys is saying now. “I meant to take a shower after dinner.”

“Then can I?”

He grins, nodding so that his hair sways against his jaw. Feliks doesn’t think it looks sweaty, but then, it’s harder to tell with Tolys’s dark hair than his own pale blond, which gets stringy very fast. He sometimes suspects that he is the main reason that Tolys keeps it at the length he does, which is fine by him.

Now, Tolys leaves his left hand resting on his knee and reaches over with the other to pick up his sketchpad. He holds it up as if inspecting the drawing.

“I’m quite curious about this, Feliks,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, so am I, really.” Looking at it again, it’s really just a mess, although those windows he drew in the corner are quite nice. Tolys laughs.

“I’m working, he says.”

“I made an attempt.”

“Hm.” With a lingering smile, Tolys hands the sketchpad over, drumming his fingers on Feliks’s leg once. Feliks plays an imaginary little tune on his knuckles in return.

The neighbor’s cat sits down right at the edge of the patch of new flowers, looking quite curious as well, but Tolys has closed his eyes again and doesn’t see it. Feliks puts his finger over his lips before pulling his pencil from behind his ear and adjusting his hat until it shadows the sketchpad again.

Maybe, he can get some actual work done before dinner.

#Hetalia #lietpol #aph poland #aph lithuania #pol's one of those characters I've started to appreciate more over time #I say that like there's lots of those #maybe den too #but yeah #these two have planted themselves p firmly on the ace spectrum in my mind #especially pol #he also got quite touch-averse compared to how I used to write him #but I feel like that fits him better #in other words he's me but instead of languages he knows maths #shrug emoji #w: 2500 #fin #u: human

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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

Text

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 1

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. First, 2 platonic chapters for set-up/build-up. And then, the story will split into 2 paths depending on your romantic pairing preference: You and Thrawn, or You and Eli.

Set Up: You are an outcast at the Imperial Academy, which means your only options for friends are the tall and stoic Chiss Mitth'raw'nuruodo and his translator from Wild Space Eli Vanto. The three of you get along, for the most part... Thrawn is obsessed with acing all the exams, Eli is desperate to show up his classmates, and you... well, you just want to feel like you belong somewhere. And hiding beneath it all are your unspoken feelings, longing to be realized, but fearful of ruining the balance of your trio's friendship....

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 1: The Problem

Pairing: None yet, just a nice friendship trio

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of bullying

Length: 2k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

You wound down the hallways of the building with a scowl on your face. You would never grow used to this ridiculously long walk, from your first class of the day to the next, so conveniently located on complete opposite sides of the facility. Whoever had designed your schedule this year was either an utter imbecile or had done so on purpose, just to tick you off. At this point in your education here at the Imperial Academy, you knew either scenario was equally likely. You weren't exactly liked by the staff or your peers, and there were plenty of idiots to go around.

The one saving grace of your journey was that you would eventually cross paths with the only two friends you had managed to make in this elitist hell-hole: Eli Vanto and Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

Eli would be the first, his class letting out just a few corridors away from yours. He was leaning against an alcove in the wall just out of the way of passing traffic, his usual spot. When you rounded the corner, he pushed off and fell into step beside you.

"What happened?" you asked, having noticed he was scowling as well. His resting face usually made him look like a sad puppy, so for him to have such a prominent frown this early in the morning, something really upsetting must have happened.

"Lost the debate," he grumbled.

Ah, you'd forgotten he had that today. You and Thrawn had helped him practice for weeks, covering every possible argument and rebuttal from his opponent on the assigned topic. He had it in the bag, or so you'd all thought.

"What? How? Don't tell me you got stage-fright."

He glared over at you. "No, I wasn't nervous or anything. I did everything perfect. But all Arden had to do was throw in a few snide remarks about my accent and that got the whole class turned in his favor."

Eli started biting down on one of his nails in frustration. You frowned along with him. That was a variable none of you had accounted for while practicing.

"Is Arden the pimply-faced guy?"

"Yeah."

"Hate him," you muttered.

"Yeah."

The two of you paused at the doors of a lift, waiting for the previous occupants to exit before filing in yourselves and punching the button for the next level up. Eli was still chewing on his nails.

"Stop," you exclaimed, swatting his hand away from his mouth. "I told you that's a bad habit."

"Oh yeah, what's this then?" He grabbed one of your hands and twisted it around so you could see the splotches of chipped polish on your nails.

You jerked your hand away and held it defensively against your chest. "There's only so much I can do with this insane caseload, okay? I haven't had time to think about my nails."

"Then why'd you paint 'em in the first place?" he said with a bit of a laugh. Well, at least his mood was improving, even if it was at your expense.

You swatted at him just as the lift doors opened. "Maybe I want to try feeling pretty sometimes, not like some zombie student."

You both were keenly aware that the cadets waiting to board the lift had backed up significantly as you passed, despite not having been in your way at all. They were all whispering too, and by the tone, it was probably not about very nice things. It was always like that, wherever you went. Even if they didn't know your reputations of being from wild, "backwater" planets, they need only hear one of you speak to know you were different. And in these Core worlds, different was inferior.

"You know you don't have to follow our course map, right?" Eli spoke up again, once you'd put some distance between the lift of sneering cadets. "Me, I don't have a choice. Thrawn's determined to graduate in as little time as possible, and I'm the sorry sucker who has to follow 'im. I'd run far away from the guy if I were you. Enjoy your freedom."

Eli complained about the last member of your trio, Thrawn, at least six times a day. And half of those complaints ended with him telling you to make a break for it. You knew he didn't mean any of it; the two of you had spent the last holiday break at a bar, and in his drunkenness, Eli had confessed to being secretly grateful for having met the Chiss. He only complained to cope with the stress.

And you... well, you weren't really sure why they let you hang around. They'd both easily become your closest friends, but you weren't always sure where you stood with them. Maybe they did like your company. Or maybe they just felt sorry for you. They were both friendly enough, allowing you to join them on Thrawn's "fast track" out of the Academy. But you had a feeling that as soon as you all graduated, they'd leave you behind and move on to whatever mission the Emperor had planned for Thrawn in the Navy.

You tried not to think about it too much.

Speaking of your friend, Mitth'raw'nuruodo emerged from a classroom doorway just a few paces ahead. Right on time, as always. His specialized "tactical statistics" class ended several minutes ago, but he had learned to carefully time your path so he wouldn't have to stand awkwardly in the hall waiting. It was for the best; you and Eli may sometimes draw unwanted attention, but poor Thrawn always stood out like a very big, very blue sore thumb.

"We have a problem," he stated, coming up on your other side. You never had to ask Thrawn what was wrong; if he had a problem worth sharing, you would hear about it.

"Hallway problem or 'fresher problem?" asked Eli.

You'd all agreed long ago there were some topics of conversation best had out of earshot from any passerby. And since most scurried out of the refresher whenever Thrawn went in, that became the only suitable place for such conversations, if it couldn't wait until your dorms at the end of the day.

"Refresher," Thrawn said. He looked down at you. "You'll be late for your class."

You shrugged. "If it's important...."

"It is."

You trusted him; he wasn't the type to make up drama or blow things out of proportion. The three of you picked up the pace, turning right instead of the usual left, and slipping into the men's bathroom. Thankfully it was already empty. Eli turned the lock just in case.

Thrawn wasted no time diving into the particulars. "I have come to learn our flight instructor, Commander Burdick, intends to sabotage my simulation tests next month. He is acquainted with Admissions Supervisor Aberdeen and understands that a failing mark will require a remedial course before being allowed back into the program. This would set my graduation back several months."

That was a problem. The flight course was one of the longer ones, and mandatory, and you were all so close to finally being through with it. Just one more round of simulation tests and then an actual flight around Coruscant.

Eli was groaning by the door. "You've gotta be kidding."

"I am not," said Thrawn in a measured voice. He knew it was just an expression, but you knew it was one of his pet peeves.

Eli wasn't listening, instead kicking at the tiled floor and mumbling about how this was so typical and why can't we just be left alone.

You turned to Thrawn. "Just you?"

"The ill will seems to be mostly directed toward me. Supervisor Aberdeen does not appreciate the special provisions that have been afforded me on behalf of the Emperor, and has coerced Commander Burdick to indulge in his spitefulness. However, I would not put it past them to also have plans for either of you, as well. They are aware of our... connection."

You were certain he was about to say friendship but changed his mind. Did he not know the word for it? Was he too embarrassed to admit it? Or did he truly not see you or Eli as anything more than connections?

"Okay, but..." Eli was still processing things. "How? What's their plan?"

"I purposefully said the Commander intended to sabotage the tests. He does not yet have a plan."

"So... we stop 'im," said Eli.

"Or," you countered, a mischievous smirk playing about your lips. "We don't."

Eli merely blinked at you, but Thrawn was very interested. "Go on," he encouraged.

"If we learn what the plan is, or maybe even give him a plan of our own, then we can let it play out and ensure he gets in trouble for it."

Thrawn rubbed his chin as he considered. You knew he'd soon slip into his usual routine of pacing and muttering in unknown languages, which could take a while and make you even later for your class. You cleared your throat, drawing his two red eyes back to yours.

"Surely a Commanding Officer wouldn't dare do anything to sabotage you directly," you offered. "He'll either look for some help or pin it on someone else, in case there's an investigation."

Thrawn rubbed his chin again. "You think we should influence the Commander on who to pick to be his... what do you call it, ensipki?"

"Scapegoat," Eli said quickly. It was becoming second nature for him to translate what was left of the holes in Thrawn's understanding of Basic.

"Right, and then we can expose the deception just before the tests," you said. "Before there's time to come up with another plan."

Thrawn's eyes narrowed in thought. "A decent idea, but it would require the education of one of our fellow cadets to be jeopardized. It should not be our first plan."

"But if he's going to use one of them anyway..." you started to protest.

"Then we should seek to expose his connection to that person as well. This is an instructor who is not serving the best interest of several of his students. He should be the only one blamed."

You weren't going to let his logic win this time. As far as you could tell, this was a perfect opportunity to get revenge on your obnoxious classmates. "It's going to be a lot easier to take issue up with the Board against a student than an instructor. We can try to expose both people, but if we can't, then at least we can nail one of them. It's called a scapegoat for a reason."

Eli spoke up before Thrawn could respond, throwing you a meaningful look. "Arden's in his class. Different time, same instructor."

"Who is this Arden?" asked Thrawn.

"The racist asshole who unfairly stole Eli's grade on the debate today," you said. You'd picked your words deliberately, and it did the trick.

"Very well. We have our scapegoat," said Thrawn.

You winked at Eli and he hid a smile.

"So," Thrawn continued, fully invested now. "We will need to push Arden toward the Commander as a viable accomplice. We will need to gain insight into the details of their plan. And then we will need to ensure those details are brought to light at the right moment."

The three of you looked among each other. This was probably the tenth plan this year alone that you'd all devised to take care of some kind of "problem." Just last week Thrawn had discovered misinformation in one of your textbooks that took the three of you on a field trip to the lower levels of Coruscant to find a con-artist who'd sold a quarter-hundred counterfeit materials to the Academy library. You'd only had the weekend to catch up on all the rest of your homework, and here you all were again, ready to jump into another scheme.

You had suggested the idea, so you were already grinning and ready to go. Thrawn had just put together a to-do list, and you could almost see the gears in his head continuing to spin as he determined more points to the plan.

The deciding vote was Eli. Though he often complained about not having a choice, you and Thrawn rarely forced him to do anything and were always respectful if he had a differing opinion. This time, you had a feeling he'd be on board.

He set his hands on his hips and smirked. "Disgracing a shitty classmate and a shitty teacher in order to save our grades? Let's do it."

Next Chapter: The Plan >

#star wars #thrawn #eli vanto #thrawn x reader #eli vanto x reader #choose your own adventure #friendship #romance #mitth'raw'nuruodo

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chiropteracupola · 3 years

Photo

So I’ve been asked “HOW DO YOU EVEN. DO THAT. GOD.” and other questions approximately in that area. Well, you can find out, through the power of the ridiculous number of progress photos I took while making these! I’m pretty much self-taught, so some of these steps might be a bit weird and convoluted, I’m just out here trying my best.

Alright, let’s start out with materials. Most of the construction is done in Super Sculpey Living Doll, which is the creepiest possible name they could have given this clay. It ends up slightly translucent when baked, and it’s surprisingly durable as well, which is excellent if you are like me and drop it on the floor constantly.

First step, schematics. I was intending these as scale drawings, but then I decided not to go through with the larger size and more complicated joint system. Having a sense of the shapes you’re going for does make it a lot easier later on. I ended up leaving out the double-jointed knees, as well as changing the shoulder and ankle joints somewhat as well.

For the rest of the materials, I’ve got superglue, something to spread the superglue with, pliers, pencil and eraser, sewing pins, felting needle, pipecleaner wire, ruler, acrylic paint, matte varnish, watercolor pencils, paintbrush, purple marker, aluminum foil, non-serrated knife, fork, and permanent markers. You can use something closer to actual sculpting tools, or more paint, but this is just the stuff I had lying around the house.

I bought a couple of kind of sketchy molds off I’m not even sure where on the internet anymore. They are not intended for doll-making, they are intended for those little sugar figurines you put on cake. Do I care? No. I mostly hand-sculpted these guys anyway, and here are the major shapes I ended up constructing. Particularly for Jack, some of the pieces are sculpted around an aluminum-foil core.

Here’s a view of my desk, partway through the sculpting process. This posture is not recommended for sculpting, but I had found a hat and wanted to feel like I was some kind of noir detective.

Heads are a pretty simple shape. Sculpting the face basically consists of sticking on a triangle for a nose, then smoothing in the edges and poking it around a little bit to create the vague idea of cheekbones, eye sockets, and so on and so forth. Sculpt in some collarbones if you are, like me, very emotionally invested in collarbones. This is perfectly normal.

Before baking the clay, make sure to poke a hole in all the joints to glue in wire later. The first diagram shows where these need to go. DO NOT FORGET TO DO THIS. (I forgot to do this.) This is a cross-section of how the wiring for the neck will sit eventually. (Except in the case of Stephen, because I forgot to do this. If you also forget, this situation could probably be fixed by drilling a hole with a very small drill, but I’m very afraid of power tools and instead spent an inordinate amount of time doing foolish things with knives, and his head still won’t stay on. Be better than me.)

Another view of my desk. Craft pipecleaner wire is fairly sturdy, and I haven’t yet found an alternative to removing the fluff with pliers and using that. It is very tiring and time-consuming, make sure you have snacks and maybe a video to watch. Stay hydrated, nutritioned, and entertained, and remain calm. This is a long and torturous process, do not torture yourself more if you don’t have to. Also, you’ll live if you get superglue on your fingers, but be careful anyway. If possibly, work in a ventilated area as well.

The process of joint creation went largely un-photographed, as I was engaged in the more attention-consuming process of cursing at tangles of wire and cloth tape for hours upon hours.

I wrapped the wire connections and the ends of the clay pieces in some sort of cloth tape I found in a closet, and where necessary, filled in some gaps with wool and pieces of craft foam. (Very Small Jack is about 30% craft foam, which means he is Huggable and Pleasantly Squishy. Tiny Stephen only has these adjustments around the knees, and he is, in comparison, Stiff and About As Huggable As A Desk Lamp.)

The process for shoulders is slightly different. Instead of a wire connecting the two clay pieces, the arms have wire hooks connected directly through the torso by a tiny rubber band. (Dental rubber bands are truly fantastic and I don’t know what I would do without them.) I’ve added some cloth tape wrapping here as well, for added stability.

Next up, hair and faces. I’ve added some color around the joints in watercolor pencil, added eyes and so forth in permanent marker, and painted in the hairline and eyebrows with dubious paint I got from my neighbor. A little bit of color on the cheeks in watercolor as well, particularly for Jack, and scars in white watercolor pencil. I added a little bit of matte varnish on the fingernails for some contrast. (I had leftover clay, so I also ended up making a tiny dragon, which shows up in a couple of the photos.)

The hair is made of brushed yarn (I’ll make a separate post to talk through that, as it’s a bit of a process in its own right.) I’m gluing on longer pieces in a spiraling pattern.

Gluing on hair, bit by bit. He looks a bit like Henry Le Vesconte and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

After some trimming and styling, he’s looking good!

Now, my favorite trick here is what can be done with a lavender marker. This is just a fairly light-colored standard purple felt-tip, but in combination with the slightly translucent clay, it makes really nice false shadows that add a lot of depth to the faces. Go crazy with it, it’s fun.

So yeah! That’s how I do what I do! This got quite long, so I think I’ll do the the rest of the explaining (clothing, shoes, etc.) in a separate post sometime later. Hope this was helpful, and thank you so much for all the love and kind words, it means a lot to me!

#em makes stuff #crafts #adventures of tiny aubrey and maturin #long post

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candychronicles · 4 years

Text

trust // s. todoroki

A/N: this is like almost two months late because i truly suck but this is my piece of the trade fic for @burnedbyshoto !!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,711

WARNINGS: angst, shower sex, overwhelming emotions, mention of blood

SYNOPSIS: one simple sentence can change everything in the relationship. after days of not talking, can you two reconcile?

“i don’t know what you expect me to do. quit my job, my life as a pro-hero? nothing is more important than that, not even you.”

you didn’t know why those few words hit you so hard, but they did. you knew Shouto was dedicated to his work, dedicated to saving people, to being everything his father wasn’t and more, but it still stung, dug a hole deep into your chest and squeezed your heart until there was only pulp and mush left.

the conversation started out as something simple. you two worked well together, like an oiled machine. this meant any issue, big or small, was usually resolved with a conversation. things got messy sometimes, like it did in any relationship, as Shouto was sometimes quick to judge and you often were clingy, but it was never enough to cause a real problem. today, however, turned into an absolute nightmare.

you had casually brought up date night, something which hadn’t been done in awhile due to busy and conflicting schedules, when things got heated. he didn’t understand why you were so concerned about going to see a movie, going to get dinner, to an amusement park, for a walk in the woods, or whatever other ridiculous idea that was thrown out of your mouth. tensions were high at work, villains were getting cocky and people’s lives were at risk. taking time off was something that just couldn’t be done at the moment.

you tried to be understanding, you really did. he was someone who was working his ass off to make the world a better place. his mental state and overall being from childhood to now was a tremendous improvement. overall, Shouto was working hard to make himself into someone he wanted to be. you also understood how important his work was to him, how hard he worked to get to where he was today and how everything from his past, such as his home life and every bad thing that happened at UA high, was a constant reminder for him to keep fighting.

sometimes, though, you can’t help feeling the way you’re feeling, and things come out of your mouth that should never be said.

“sometimes i wish you weren’t a pro hero.”

that one simple comment was meant to only convey a sense of frustration at the lack of personal time you two had together, but instead, it spiraled out of control into an issue of him acting as if you were accusing him of not caring about you and you getting increasingly frustrated over the fact that you did not want this to escalate anymore than it already had.

finally, those words were spoken, and you were left, sitting on your once shared bed as he slept on the couch, staring blankly into the darkness as you tried to wrap your head around what was going on. you wanted to speak to him, apologize for the way things had gone down and clarify your frustrations, but at the same time, you knew his mental state wouldn’t allow him to listen to you or your feelings rationally. so you sat, mulling over your words and feeling your heart continue to disintegrate.

for days, Shouto used the couch for sleep, showering and getting ready at work, eating out and coming home late. you knew he was frustrated as well over the situation, but after days of not talking, you were getting worried that there was nothing that could be said or done to fix the hole that was slowly tearing the fabric of your love apart.

it was only while you were in the middle of a shower, late at night, that things were finally resolved. you had heard the door slam and knew he was home, but didn’t think anything of it at the time. only when your bathroom door was whipped open did you get concerned, jumping at the sudden intrusion of your thoughts.

words were not spoken between the two of you, but you could feel something had shifted in him, and he was finally ready to work things out. clothes were stripped and haphazardly thrown on the floor, door gently slid open and a warm body slid behind yours. you could feel the tension and anxiety radiating off of him in waves and you continued to wait for his response, washing your hair in the process.

finally, he let out a sigh and began helping you, using his hands to lather the suds into your hair.

“i’m sorry. it took me a bit of time to understand what you were trying to say. you just want to spend time with me, and you do not actually wish that i was not a pro-hero, but rather that my job did not take up so much of my time,” he started, “i do want to spend more time with you too, so i have been working late. i was able to score the next three days off, no questions asked. we can do whatever you want.”

you opened and closed your mouth but no words were able to be formed. you instead turned around, letting the water cascade over your head and quickly scrubbed the foam out of your hair, reaching up to plant a searing kiss to your lovers lips, tasting the water mixed with the delicious flavor of him.

he responded without hesitation, understanding this strange love language more than he did words. he trusted you, trusted that when you kissed him it meant you loved him, trusted that when you showed yourself bare that you wanted him to make you feel good and wanted to make him feel good. he trusted you with every fiber in his being, and he was going to show you how much he really loved you.

there was no time to take you to the bedroom. there was no time to kiss you on every inch of your body and murmur whispers of praise in your ear. there would be time for proper worship over the next couple of days but today, right now, he needed you. he needed to feel you, needed to fill you, needed to make sure that you were here and real and still his, that nothing bad had happened while you two were avoiding each other and that he could feel a little more normal again.

he murmured a quiet command to jump against your lips, and you did, bracing yourself on his broad shoulders, his hands firmly under your ass. the coolness of the tile against your back as he pushed you against it elicited a hiss but was quickly replaced with a moan when his lips attached themselves to your neck, nipping and sucking in all the right places.

he pulled away, a look of pure desperation and need in his eyes which surely mirrored your own. you didn’t need to talk, not yet. he had already apologized, and you could spend the rest of the night showing and telling your own regrets of the situation, but in the moment, you were feeling as if your whole body was on fire despite the tile and cooling water. you had spent long enough without him, long enough thinking of what you had said and done, and none of it mattered now that you were back in his arms.

Shouto repositioned himself, bracing you in one arm as he slowly used his other hand to guide himself into your waiting hole, thoroughly wet from both the water and your own juices. he entered with little resistance, arms flexing out of sheer instinct, the feeling of your warm cavern overwhelming to his sense. a steady pace was set, his cock thrusting inside of you with need and longing.

his eyes met yours once more, foreheads leaning forward and pressing together, breathes mingling as you both lost yourselves in the feelings of one another. wet squelching sounds echoed throughout the bathroom, soft pants and moans brushing past your ears.

he continued to pound in and out of you mercilessly, and you clenched around him, fitting so nice and snug around his cock. his deft fingers brushed over your clit and then began rubbing precise yet harsh circles into it, signaling that he was close himself. you felt your own high building, a heavy burning sensation deep inside of you, and you dug your nails into his shoulders, pressing your lips to his intensely, too overwhelmed and just wanting to feel more of him.

you came with a sob, squeezing, yourself tightly around his whole body, biting down on his lip, drawing the tangy metallic liquid out and into your mouth. you felt his hips stutter and he came with his own grunt, pulling your body even more tightly to his own, feeling his dick twitch and the sticky liquid filling you up.

you both sat there, not wanting to do anything except bask in the sensation of each other. carefully, he pulled out and set you back on your feet, continuing to hold you close to his body. you placed your head directly onto his chest, hearing his heartbeat loud and strong. you were slowly returning to your senses, feeling the warm liquid flow out of your cunt and down your legs, the warmth of Shouto’s body and the now freezing water. you blindly reached out and slammed your palm against the handle, effectively shutting it off, shivering.

“let’s get you into bed, you’re freezing,” he chided, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, opening the door and stepping out, throwing a fluffy towel your way.

you stepped out after him, wrapping the fabric around your body, smiling softly.

“tomorrow, let me show you how sorry i am but tonight, lets go to sleep yeah?” you asked, opening the door and not waiting for an answer, moving towards the bed and throwing yourself on top of the sheets, utterly exhausted by the sex, not only physically, but emotionally as well.

you were sure there would be a conversation and much making up to do but you knew you two would be okay and right now, you were in love, surrounded by downy blankets and the warm body of your boyfriend pulling you tightly against him.

TAGS: @redbeanteax @softforshigi

#shouto todoroki #shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader

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