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#like everyone’s going after that woman who called white culture clean and collected or whatever

readyplayerhobi · 3 years

Text

La Douleur Exquise

; Horse Hybrid!Taehyung x Lovebird Hybrid!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, smut

; Warnings: Penetrative sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, impregnation kink, filmed sex

; Word Count: 14.9k

; Synopsis: Taehyung is in love with his best friend. The problem? He’s a stallion, a horse hybrid who’s basic instinct is to collect a herd of women to protect and procreate. His best friend is a lovebird hybrid and they mate for life. He knows it’s pretty much impossible to be together and that you’d end up hurt, but what happens when he finds out you love him just as much?

; A/N: So, my first fic in like...two months? I started this fic in early July and honestly...I just wanted it finished. If it seems a bit disjointed or something then it was very stop and start...I hope you all enjoy it anyway and that it doesn’t disappoint or anything! It’s taken a WHILE for me to get back into writing (honestly, I almost left lol). Please reblog if you enjoyed and leave me comments and asks!

“Oh...fuck. Fuck, you’re so big, mmm,” The girl on her hands and knees in front of Taehyung moaned, her ass wiggling in desperation as he thrust his hard cock into her soaked pussy. “Harder, please. Please, fuck me harder.”

He hissed as she clenched around him, his entire length disappearing with ease inside her as his hips moved rhythmically. Large hands groped at the globes of her ass, squeezing them and spreading them wide to give the best view possible. Grunting, he slapped at one cheek hard and smirked when she yelped, jerking slightly.

“Such a pretty girl, so pliant and willing, hmm?” Taehyung questioned, his voice low and brusque as he moved hard enough to cause the room to be filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin. “A greedy pussy, so eager for your stallion to get you in foal, aren’t you?”

She moaned in response, her face unseen to him but her body reacted by squeezing around his cock once more. Running one hand along her spine, he hummed in delight before leaning forward and biting down on her shoulder. It was instinctual, something deep in his genes telling him to hold her steady while he filled her up and impregnated her.

His other hand moved down to her clit, the bundle of nerves still soft and silky with her excitement but also swollen hard with her impending orgasm. Years of experience let his fingertips find the exact spot he needed, swirling them in quick circles and making her cry out even louder, hips bucking beneath him.

“That’s a good mare,” He panted, trailing his nose along her neck slowly. “Come for me, come on, you can do it. Tighten that pussy around me and I’ll breed you as you want.”

Her orgasm hit seconds later, body convulsing tightly around him and he grunted, hips jerking forward even more rapidly. She was whining, a babbling mess beneath him as he continued to stimulate her, the effects being just as pleasurable for him too until he too came.

Pressing into her hard, he felt the slight resistance of what must be her uterus against the tip of his cock but she didn’t complain of any pain. One of the benefits of being a fellow horse hybrid was that a mare was biologically compatible with the large cock stallions had. One hand held her hips steady, making sure she didn’t move away as his balls convulsed rhythmically, each time causing his cock to twitch as he continued to ejaculate inside her.

She was breathing hard now, her body covered in a fine layer of sweat that caught the light perfectly and he hummed in appreciation, finally feeling the end of his orgasm. Slowly, he pushed himself upright and licked at his lips as he gave a few, shallow thrusts to wring out his final moments of pleasure and also make sure she got all of his cum.

“You were a good girl for me. We’ll get a nice colt or filly from you.” He mutters, stroking along her back appreciatively. Her skin was darker in certain patches and lighter in others, a result of her American Paint Horse breeding. It was pretty and he let his fingers trail along with the colour distinction.

Finally, though, he pulled out. The noise as he did so was extremely wet, but that was nothing compared to the rush of thick, white cum that slipped out of her used pussy. Pursing his lips, he looked it over carefully before dragging his fingers through some of it and pushing it back inside her. It didn’t matter, stallions were renowned for the large amount of semen they produced and she was probably filled inside.

“And cut!” Called the director, his voice interrupting the silence of the set. Taehyung let out an immediate sigh of relief and sat back, his cock rapidly softening now that the scene was over. His co-star sat up with a groan, stretching to get out the kinks in her back from the position she’d been in for the last ten minutes.

As she did so, the trickle of cum once more became a torrent, slipping down her thighs to collect on the bed. She didn’t pay attention to it and he didn’t say anything, the two of them used to scenes like this by now. Wheein was a consummate professional and one of the best in the porn industry, just like Taehyung.

“That was a good scene,” She complimented him, smiling in gratitude to her assistant who brought a robe that she used to cover herself up with. “Even if the whole ‘dirty talk’ is a little overdone nowadays.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in agreement, grinning as he accepted the cleaning wipes from his assistant. Without a care in the world, he began to wipe his cock clean as he continued on his discussion with Wheein. She was quickly wiping down her thighs and between her legs as well. They’d both clean up more properly when they went to their dressing rooms but he wouldn’t be seeing her again after this.

Not unless they worked on the same set again.

“Right? It’s so fucking cringe. I wish they’d hire someone who’s an equine if they’re going to write a script featuring two of us. Who even talks like that?” He muttered, tugging on his robe and tying it closed before slipping his feet into the sandals provided to him.

The laugh Wheein gives is sweet, making her entire face light up. She really is a beautiful woman and her body is equally divine, only made even better by her kind and bubbly personality. Not that she’d been able to show that during this scene of course.

It struck Taehyung that she’d probably make a good mare for his herd. Despite the fact they were lamenting how lame the script was that they’d been given, there were some truths to what they’d filmed. A stallion like Taehyung would actively seek out fertile mares from good stock for his herd to breed with.

The better quality the mare’s breeding, the better his foals would be.

At least, that’s what horse hybrids were meant to do. Wheein would probably even agree to it if he asked. He knew that she wasn’t in a herd already and she’d made it pretty clear to him that she’d be open to something outside of their work if he wanted. His deeply-rooted instincts demanded that he take her home and breed her properly, but he just sighed deeply instead.

He may be a horse hybrid, with all the possessive and protective instincts that provided him as a stallion, but he had no actual interest in living his life like that. Which is why he makes a little more small talk with Wheein before leaving to go to his dressing room. The shower he takes is quick, making sure to rub viciously at his body as he tries his hardest to remove any scent of the mare he’d just fucked.

Hybrids were something that had been created long ago. So long ago, no one knew how they were made anymore. The knowledge had been lost in the Hybrid Revolution, three centuries ago when hybrids had refused to be slaves for their human masters anymore. Ever since they’d been treated as equals to everyone else in society.

That didn’t mean that they’d integrated fully of course. Hybrids of different species more often than not stayed with each other or mated with humans. It did happen though, but the differing instincts meant it often was better for a hybrid to simply stay within their species.

Something Taehyung had always found amusing though was the fact that even within their species, a lot of hybrids would only mate within their own ‘breed’. Wheein was a pure American Paint Horse, coming from a long line that could be traced back to when the humans had been breeding horse hybrids for manual labour, protection services and sports purposes.

Back then, the humans treated hybrids exactly like actual horses. They had a studbook and would breed stallions to certain mares to produce characteristics they wanted. Placid nature, easy to work with, intelligent, quick to learn and so forth. When they’d been released, the breeds had continued on the studbooks to this day.

There were plenty who didn’t follow that ideology, of course, Taehyung’s parents were not the same breed after all, but a lot seemed to put stock in being ‘purebred’. It was just another way to act superior in his opinion.

Besides, his parents may not be from the same breed but he was still technically a breed all of his own. His mother was an Arabian while his father a Thoroughbred, meaning he was a breed called an Anglo-Arab. That was considered a breed in its own right, though perhaps not as prestigious as either of his parents.

Whatever he didn’t care about all that. Taehyung had no real interest in following the cultural norms of his heritage. And the reason for that was waiting for him back at his apartment. The thought of that spurred him into cleaning up even faster, making sure he was squeaky clean before pulling on the clothes he’d removed earlier in the day.

Glancing in the mirror once finished, he sighed deeply and looked himself over. A quirk of his kind was that they looked distinctly hybrid in ways that didn’t match others.

A dog hybrid may have the ears of a spaniel while a cat could have the tail of a Persian. Horse hybrids didn’t have any of their animal counterpart’s physical characteristics though, no tails or ears or anything like that. But their animal genes had manifested uniquely in their skin and hair.

If someone was a bay then they would have brown skin in a range of shades while their lower arms, legs and the space around their mouths and nose would be even darker and their hair a luscious black. Taehyung blended a little better than most other horse hybrids, but for others like Wheein, it was more obvious. Her skin was covered in patches of alternating dark and light while her natural hair grew in white and dark brown.

He knew that certain breeds had distinct characteristics as well. An old high school friend was a Friesian with coal-black skin and the most luxuriously thick, wavy black hair. One of his Taehyung’s siblings, on the other hand, had a Lipizzaner mare in his herd; her skin and hair was snow white. It certainly made them easily identifiable.

Taehyung wasn’t quite so obvious. His palomino colouring was visible; pale white hair that was a little too long and softly tousled matched with rich golden skin. Broad shoulders tapered down into a slim waist, currently covered in a loose white button-up. His hair was still wet, dripping onto his shirt while his strong thighs and calves were contained within equally loose-fitting tan trousers.

He didn’t look like someone who’d just filmed pornography, but then again, what did that look anyway? Just a person? Still, he felt a small sense of satisfaction at how well he was going to blend. The last thing he wanted was to go home and have it look obvious what he’d just been doing, even if it was his job.

Chewing on his lip, he grabs his leather cross shoulder bag and exits the dressing room. He promised to get takeout tonight, and he wasn’t going to renege on that deal.

“I have food!” Taehyung calls out, placing the bag of takeout he’d just picked up on the kitchen counter before shrugging off his jacket. By the time he gets back from hanging it up, you’ve already emerged from your bedroom and are pulling plates out of the cupboard while trying to see what he’d gotten.

“What did you get? Chinese?” Looking up at him with a raised brow, Taehyung’s heart stutters for a moment at just how pretty you are. There’s not a trace of makeup on your face right now, you didn’t bother when you were at home, and yet you were still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Like him, you were also a hybrid. The two of you had met in the first class of freshman year in college and had quickly become best friends, despite the differences between you both. He’d also fallen deeply in love with you at some point, even though he knew nothing could happen.

Just as he was driven by the instinct to have sex with multiple women to form a herd, you were driven by your instincts. Only yours were dictated by your lovebird genetics, which meant that you were strictly monogamous. As in, once you entered a relationship and truly fell in love with them then you would never have another relationship.

The antithesis of a horse hybrid then. Taehyung had long known that it meant he would never be able to be with you the way he wanted. You craved monogamy and it simply wasn’t in his genes.

So he’d stayed your best friend, and for the last five years since finishing college, he’d also remained your roommate. The two of you shared a mid-sized apartment in the city centre, close to the university that you worked at as a music professor and within easy driving distance of his workplace.

“No, there’s a new Ethiopian place that’s opened close to work. Seokjin was telling me about it it’s a vegan restaurant and I thought it’d be cool to try it out. No idea what you’d like, or what I’d like, so I just got a bunch of things to try.” Smiling at you, he starts to pull out the carefully packaged food and chuckles as you ‘ooh’ at it all.

“Oooh, I’ve never had Ethiopian food before. I’m excited.” And then you turn that blinding smile onto him and he has to let out a deep breath as slowly as possible to stop himself from doing something silly. He’s long been used to his feelings yet you still make him feel like a teenager again.

Once everything’s out, the two of you take it over to the little table that’s set up between the kitchen and the living room and lay it all out. You quickly dart over to the fridge and grab some water for the two of you before settling down and humming in excitement as everything is unpackaged.

Like Taehyung, you didn’t have many physical attributes of your animal side. Which would have been exceptionally strange given the difference between humans and birds. What you did have though, were black irises to match your pupils and the most exquisitely beautifully coloured hair. The front was a blend of peach, yellow and red which slowly morphed into the familiar lovebird green.

It was all-natural and incredibly pretty, suiting your face and personality so well. The original purpose of lovebird hybrids had been as companions due to their loyalty to their partner alongside musical pursuits. Not everyone was great at music but more often than not, lovebird hybrids tended to excel at singing.

Taehyung loved to hear you sing. Or play the piano or any of the other instruments you’d learnt how to play over the years. You were practically a prodigy when it came to the musical arts and he would forever be in awe of just how talented you were.

Your singing was one of the reasons he’d fallen for you so quickly; your buoyant and always effervescent personality had made him determined to befriend the sweet lovebird hybrid in his class. But it was your singing that had truly captured his heart.

The sweet sound of your voice could be as light as a dandelion seed on a summer breeze or swell as loud and strong as a hurricane. He’d been immediately fascinated the moment he’d first heard you sing and it had never let him go. Taehyung genuinely couldn’t imagine his life anymore without hearing your singing around the apartment; from the quiet songs when you were concentrating to the ones you belted out when you were in a happy mood.

He loved it all. As cheesy as it would sound, he just knew that his life would be dull and quiet without his music-obsessed, colourful, chatty best friend. Which was why he couldn’t give up the small hope of something with you. It was a tiny chance, but as long as you remained unattached then it was there all the same and he would grab onto it tightly.

“Did your shoot go well today?” You distract him out of his wayward thoughts with your question and it takes a few seconds of it to truly penetrate his mind and for him to understand. Almost immediately though, it causes him to twist his lips as he begins to spoon out the food he wants from the containers onto his injera, Ethiopian flatbread, that covers his plate. He hated talking about his job to you. It was like a reminder of what he couldn’t have every time.

But he was a big boy, so he took in a deep breath before looking back at you and giving you his trademark boxy smile.

“It went okay, nothing went wrong which is always a good thing. Wheein was nice and very pleasant to work with, good at her job. The script was just as bad as I originally thought.” Snorting at the memory, he takes a mouthful of food and chews thoughtfully as he takes in the new flavours.

“Let me guess...full of lots of over-the-top horse innuendos and dirty talk?” Chuckling to yourself, you take a drink of cold water before tilting to your head to look him over carefully. Taehyung pauses, unsure of himself for a second before quirking his brow at you.

“Yeah, something like that. I shouldn’t be complaining really...no one watches what I make for the dialogue.” He’s very aware that there’s a slight pout to his lips as he looks back down at his plate, missing the way your expression changes to one of sympathy and protectiveness.

“Well...true I guess, but you’re a great actor outside of that. And I’m not just saying that to you because you’re my best friend TaeTae. You’re genuinely good.” Now he does look at you, taking in the way you look at him with concern and he feels a flare of guilt rise in his stomach. Taehyung would never let you know that the only reason he’d started to work in the pornography industry during college was so that he could satiate his desires without dating multiple women or accidentally creating a herd.

The fact that he was still doing it, seven years after beginning, was because he still held out hope. He knew that he could’ve been something better, entered the world of television or film acting, maybe even theatre. But it would have meant having to flaunt an unending trail of women in front of you.

At least he had a valid and acceptable reason for fucking so many women as a pornstar. The fact that he had no emotional connection to the women who worked alongside him now was a bonus, allowing you to see that he was more than capable of leaving his work in the studio.

Giving you a tight smile, Taehyung nods his head in appreciation. “Thanks, chirp. I appreciate it. And I know, but I think it’s too late now. Too old, you know?”

“Pfft, no way. There are loads of actors who didn’t start their careers until they were older! And no offence, but you’re a guy so you’ve got the kind of lifespan that most women aren’t allowed. You’re only twenty-nine!” The outraged response from you is almost immediate, the piece of injera almost flying out of your hand at your reaction.

Thankfully, you’d just eaten the vegetable wat that you’d scooped up already so there wasn’t any risk of the floor or wall being decorated with Ethiopian stew. That would just be a waste of some good food in Taehyung’s opinion.

But that was irrelevant.

What was relevant was your vehement defence of Taehyung and his talents. The two of you had had this conversation many times over the years and yet it never failed to make him smile. You were adamant he could do better and he knew that he could too. But he didn’t want to. Despite how good his acting was, he had no real interest in actually taking it up as a career outside of porn.

He didn’t care for the lifestyle or travelling or fame. Porn worked well for him at the moment. It satisfied his instincts, it paid well enough and he had a manager that ensured Taehyung only received the best directors, co-stars and films.

What Taehyung would love to do, was to work in fashion design. He loved putting together interesting and unique looks while also thinking up ideas for clothes. His best friend, Jimin, had started a clothing brand of his own a few years ago thanks to the money his parents had loaned him. It was doing pretty well so far and Jimin was constantly sad that Taehyung wouldn’t join him.

The older man, he was only two months older but that meant everything to Park Jimin, had tried everything he could think of to lure his best friend into his company. From offering a creative director role to his sub-brand that would operate almost independently from the parent brand, Calico. And Taehyung had promised him that he’d accept one day.

He would as well. Just not yet. It wasn’t time yet.

“Thanks. Anyway, how was your day? Didn’t you say you had some exams this morning or something?” His segue into another conversation works like a charm and you happily begin to complain about the exams that you’d given your freshman students today. It still boggled his mind that you’d willingly insert yourself into college life again, even if it was in a teaching role but you seemed to thrive in the social aspect of it all.

The two of you continue to talk until there’s no food left, every single piece happily was eaten. Admittedly, most of it was eaten by Taehyung as he had a far larger appetite than you did. It was even bigger today given the workout he’d done during his work hours but you’d been content to hand over what you didn’t want to eat anymore.

Or rather, you’d been content to feed him what you didn’t want. Something he’d had to get used to very early on in his friendship with you was that you retained the instinct to feed those you were close to. That’s what you’d told him anyway, though if he was to be entirely honest he hadn’t seen you feed anyone else before.

Then again, none of the friends you both shared in common was the kind of people who would accept being fed, no matter how much they liked you.

It’s a few hours later that you’re both ready to go to bed; eyes sleepy and movements slow after watching three episodes of The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina while curled up beneath the couch blanket as you both digest your food. Taehyung could have happily fallen asleep where he was, the warmth of you not close enough for him to feel but your scent strong enough to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

“I’m going to bed.” You say loudly, causing him to jerk awake quickly as you push the blanket off your body and stand up. It’s not as quick as you’d normally be but the stretch you give combined with the extraordinarily big yawn lets him know you’re pretty tired.

Not a surprise. It was after 11 pm now and you’d been up since 5:30 am to make sure you had everything set for your classes. A slight wobble as you lose your balance causes him to jump up, resting a hand on the small of your back gently to provide careful assistance while he reaches for the remote with his other to turn off the television.

“Careful, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Taehyung chuckles, kicking away the blanket which had also become tangled around your feet. A quiet hum from you lets him know that you’re more tired than he’d initially thought.

Not saying anything more, he runs his free hand through the pale blonde strands of his hair as he directs you towards your bedroom. The door is closed to the outside world, unlike his, but the interior is familiar to him once you open it up.

One of the habits you had that came from your lovebird side was that you liked to nest. Which meant your bedroom had everything you loved arranged exactly how you wanted it. Your bed was a canopy style, completely cocooned away from the world except for the entrance. He’d been in once or twice to wake you up when you’d been late for something and he would admit to being fascinated by just how dark and...comfy it all looked.

Soft sheets, multiple fluffy pillows and more covered the top of your bed. He’d love to see what it was like to sleep in it one night because it looked like it could easily be one of the comfiest nights of sleep he’s ever had. A bonus would be if you slept next to him.

One of the more fortunate, or unfortunate depending on how you looked at it, aspects of his heritage was that Taehyung could sleep anywhere. He’d even been known to sleep standing up, which meant that he wasn’t that bothered about what his sleeping space looked like.

Taehyung knew it was something of an honour for him to be even allowed in your bedroom, to be honest, given how protective and territorial you got over your own space. It had been amusing for him to realise this at first, particularly given he wasn’t particularly bothered when it came to his own physical space but upon realising you wouldn’t let anyone else in, he’d used it as a badge of pride.

To himself, of course. No one else would care or even be surprised that your best friend and roommate was the only person allowed in.

Shaking his head, he wishes you goodnight before closing your door quietly and heading to the bathroom for his nightly ritual. The downside to being a porn actor was that he had to follow a proper skincare routine to make sure his skin looked the best. Because obviously, people were paying attention to his beautiful face instead of his massive dick.

Not.

Still, it helped to book more shoots. He had a ‘statuesque’ face that appealed to women or something. So he went along with it and had, admittedly, fantastic skin as a result.

The last thought before he finally fell asleep was that he was pretty sure the oversized black sweatpants you’d been wearing were his.

Taehyung doesn’t get to see a whole lot of you in the next few weeks. He’d ended up having to travel for a shoot that lasted a week and by the time he got back, you were on a much-needed vacation with your friends. As such, he was getting a little grumpy at the lack of interaction with you.

Which was entirely the reason that he’d almost jumped on top of you when you’d finally walked through the apartment door; three long weeks after seeing you last. You’d let him know that you’d be coming home today and he’d had to wait as patiently as he could on the couch, pouting at the fact you hadn’t accepted his offer of going to the airport to meet you.

But with everything in the apartment turned off, he’d used his superior hearing to the best of his abilities and had listened as hard as possible for your footsteps. After so many years, he knew exactly what you sounded like when you walked.

So when he finally heard that familiar beat, alongside the rolling of the wheels on your suitcase, he’d leapt up. There may even be a hole in the wall from how forcefully he’d yanked the door open, his excitement causing him to not pay attention to his strength for a moment before he’s giving you the biggest and brightest grin he possibly can.

“I missed youuuuuu!” Whining loudly, Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist and lifts. The squeal you let out soon dissolves into laughter when he spins you around, mentally marvelling once more at how light you were while his sense went haywire with you so close again. He could feel the softness of your hips as he lets you down, smell the soft peach of your shampoo along with the slight hint of sweat after so long travelling.

It was perfect, and something deep within him relaxed.

You were home. You were safe.

“I missed you too, Tae! Can I please actually come in?” Your laughter is sweet, infectious as always and he stands to the side to let you enter the apartment. Without even asking, he gently takes the handle of your suitcase from you and lifts it with no complaints, heading over to your bedroom.

Given he’s not facing you anymore, he doesn’t see the way you practically swoon at the sight of him using his strength so casually. Or the way you almost drool at his broad shoulders in the plain white shirt he’d thrown on today, the muscles working in a way that made your hands twitch.

“Did you have a good time? Please tell me that Yeji doesn’t have some embarrassing story again this year,” While your yearly vacations with your friends were mostly for sunbathing and catching up, he knew that you all enjoyed re-enacting some college years and that copious amounts of alcohol were drunk. “And I’m not saying about you, I mean just embarrassing full stop. I’m still feeling secondary embarrassment over two years ago.”

“A story which will forever remain buried, thank you very much. But no, we were good this year. Or rather, we weren’t good but I think we’re starting to get a little too old to be drinking so heavily, you know? We can’t recuperate the same way and I get hangovers way too easily. I do not have the physiology to cope with their drinking levels!” There’s a slight whine to your voice, making him smile in amusement as he moves over to lean against the doorway of your room.

While he was fully welcome into your space, he knew that you liked it to be your own. Especially when you’d been away for a while.

“Well, I mean...you are a lovebird. I don’t think there are many alcohol-tolerant birds out there.” That gets him a subtle glare, your pretty lips puckered into a pout. It’s an innocent action, something that shouldn’t bother him in the slightest, and yet his heart stutters and his stomach twists on itself.

What he wouldn’t give to kiss you.

Shaking his head, he tries to force the thoughts out of his mind. Honestly, he was perfectly fine when he was away from you. But when you were around, it was like you were all he could think about. Still, it was hard not to when you looked at him so fondly.

“True. There’s no need to point that out though. Salt in the wound much? Anyway, it was fun. They kept trying to get me to swim in the sea but like...no thank you. Water is for drinking and washing, not for swimming around in.” You’re crouched down, unzipping your suitcase and pulling out the dirty clothes before separating them into the individual bins you have.

Unlike Taehyung, who simply separated his clothes when it came time to wash them, you were very tidy and had bought fancy clothes hamper with three sections. This was probably why Taehyung would accidentally end up with a shrunken shirt or pink underwear from time to time. You paid far more attention to that stuff.

“Swimming is fun though.” Is all he responds with, standing back when you carry the laundry hampers past him. Putting the colours into the washing machine, he watches quietly as you add everything before turning it on. It was fascinating how you’d only been home for less than ten minutes and yet you were already cleaning things up.

Not that he’d made the apartment untidy or anything. It’s just you had a different idea of what was clean to him.

“Okay but, you can say that because you’ve got those shoulders to cut through the water. Not to mention you’re strong anyway. Not so fun for the rest of us. And I don’t mind swimming in a pool. Where I can see the bottom and the size is posted. The ocean though? That’s huge. No thanks.” Smirking, he flops down onto the couch and sighs happily when you push him up before sitting down yourself, letting him rest his head on your thighs.

There was no convincing you though and Tae gave up on the argument pretty quickly, not that he was trying too hard. One thing he’d learnt long ago was that you were perhaps the most stubborn person he’d ever known. It was an endearing trait, most of the time.

“Did you audition for that role?” Your question is innocent, soft fingers trailing through his hair that would have him purring if he was a cat hybrid. Instead, it was just making him get the urge to groom you in turn, his fingers twitching with the need. Ignoring it, he forced himself to just enjoy the touch.

“Yeah. Not sure if I’ve got it though. I got the feeling they weren’t looking for someone like me in the role.” It wasn’t surprising really and he wasn’t offended by the producers of the film he’d gone for. Even porn wanted specific people for specific roles sometimes; it would be silly to think he could get every role he went for.

Not to mention exhausting.

“Well, they’re missing out then,” You say, scratching his scalp until he hums in delight. “Anyone who doesn’t want you is missing out.”

Your words make his heart jump, his breath stuttering as he inhales and wonders if there’s a double meaning to that. But you’re too busy watching the show that you’ve started on Netflix to notice Taehyung’s existential dilemma. Part of him is glad, but there’s another part that wishes he was brave enough to bring it up.

He chooses not to engage with it though, instead just sighing and letting himself relax into the cushions of the couch. It’s nice to be surrounded by your scent once more and to feel your warmth.

“I appreciate that, Chirp. But I’m not letting it get me down. Sometimes they just can’t handle all this.” Gesturing half-heartedly to his body, he’s pleased to hear you laugh at his joke. The sound is sweet, even if the two of you lapse into a comfortable silence after that.

You’re too busy watching your show while he’s half dozing off, eyes closed and breath getting deeper as he starts to drift away. It’s comfortable on the couch, with the temperature just right and his body perfectly relaxed. Which means it’s unsurprising that he falls asleep pretty quickly, completely unaware of anything that’s happening around him as he sleeps.

Taehyung is more than a little disoriented when he finally awakens; the room dark and silent with the lights and television switched off. Frowning, he blinks rapidly before rubbing at his eyes with a hand while sitting up. Stretching his arms out above his head, the groan he lets out is one of relief as stiff muscles relax and a few bones crack.

Reaching out to the coffee table blindly, he grabs his phone and winces when the bright light almost blinds him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been hugely blessed with the better night sight horses had. Well, he could see better than humans but nothing amazing. Didn’t make it any better when he was subjected to bright light suddenly though.

“Ah, fuck.” He curses, squinting until he can finally focus on the screen. It’s not too late, but it’s a good two hours or so since you’d finally gotten home. Frowning, he just sits there for a moment as his mind finally catches up with the fact he is awake.

Yawning loudly, he finally pulls himself up and decides he should probably go shower before collapsing into bed. Taehyung hadn’t even realised he was tired, but it could have been the comfort of knowing you were back and safe. It wasn’t like he was some over-protective asshole who needed to know your every movement - more that he just felt more content when he knew you were okay.

Walking to his room, he’s scratching at his exposed stomach lazily when he hears the sound of your voice. The door leading to your bedroom is firmly closed but there’s light at the gap on the bottom. His enhanced hearing means that he can easily hear everything you’re saying, which is nothing new.

Over the years though, he’s learnt to carefully block out anything you’re saying when you’re in your room. You deserved your privacy, even if he couldn’t help the fact that he could hear everything perfectly.

And that would have been exactly what he would have done right now. Just carried on through to his bedroom and continued with his plans. Only he can’t help but stop when he hears the familiar syllables of his name. Taehyung knows it’s wrong, but the way you said it is different than normal.

He can’t help but listen, expression curious and his head tilting without even realising it. Your conversation is one-sided but he pays careful attention, still in the middle of the hallway.

“-you know Taehyung, he’s always being attentive and sweet. It’s just his nature, he’s like that with everyone. Yuna...it’s just Tae. He hugs everyone, you’re looking too much into it,” There’s a longer pause now, presumably your best friend talking extensively to you. “Come on, isn’t that what you always tell me? We haven’t seen each other in a while, it’s not surprising he got all touchy.”

Taehyung frowns, lips twisting as he begins to understand a little. Or at least, he thinks he does. If he’s right, Yuna thinks that he likes you. His cheeks heat up as he realises how obvious he’d been with his feelings, even though you make a good argument against it. But you’re wrong and Yuna is very much right.

He does like you, and he’s not quite as touchy-feely with everyone else. Taehyung isn’t even sure how you got that opinion. The only other person he’s remotely as affectionate with is Jimin, and that’s only because he’s known the calico cat hybrid since they were babies. Tae’s mom had worked with Jimin’s mom for decades now, which meant they’d grown up with each other.

“Yuna,” Your whining now, voice going high pitched and your words getting longer. “I thought you were the one who was telling me that I need to get over Tae! And now you’re telling me he’s obviously into me? Make up your mind, woman! Do you want me to ignore my feelings for him or consider telling him? And no, you can’t backtrack in a week or so like you always do. This is serious. I’d be humiliating myself by telling him.”

It’s almost like the world has paused around Taehyung. For a second, he almost feels dizzy and has to rest a palm against the wall as he sways. Your feelings...for him? Did he hear that right? Was he twisting your words into what he hoped you were implying?

Before he can contemplate it anymore in his mind, you go on to say something that shatters the norm for Taehyung.

“It would be humiliating Yuna, you know that. You know what I am, we’ve talked about this. God, I can’t tell Taehyung I love him because then that’s it, I’ve sealed my fate and I won’t be able to get over him. It’s already hard just trying. Having him know? I can’t, not when he can’t give me what I want.” There’s a pain in your voice and his heart twists, stomach bubbling in a way that almost makes him want to vomit as his world changes.

You love him. You. Love. Him.

“It’s not his fault Yuna, we’ve gone through this so many times. I have my instincts and he has his, I’m not going to get angry at something we can’t change. Please...can we just talk about something else? Something that’s not going to make me cry and spend all night thinking? We agreed that we’d try to get me over this, dammit.”

That’s the last thing Taehyung hears as he walks quickly back to his room, having decided that he’s heard far too much of a conversation he clearly shouldn’t have heard. Guilt roils in him, flooding his veins as he flops down onto his bed and stares at the white ceiling of his room. He feels dazed and confused, not sure what he’s meant to think about this sudden change in events.

Taehyung being in love with you was something he’d long ago accepted. But he’d also accepted that nothing would happen from it because of what you wanted in life. Finding out that you wanted him too was game-changing. It was also heartbreaking to know that the only reason you both weren’t together already was because of his instincts.

Suddenly, he sees his career in a whole new light. What was a coping mechanism for him to reduce his innate desires and allow him to give you all the best bits of himself, was probably pure pain for you. The knowledge that you loved him was both exciting and, surprisingly, horrifying.

He knew that love birds would only have one partner, and from what he’d read over the years it meant they only really truly loved one person. If you felt this strongly for Taehyung then did that mean he’d stolen any other choices from you? He’d been holding back to make sure you had a chance to be happy but had he just made it worse?

Swallowing thickly, Taehyung realises there are tears in his eyes as he wonders if he’s ruined everything. The logical part of his mind knows that it’s not his fault if you’ve fallen in love with him, just like it wasn’t your fault he’d fallen for you. But he certainly hadn’t done anything to truly push you away, to try and get you to find someone else to fall in love with and enjoy a happy life.

Had he been selfish?

Rolling onto his stomach, he buries his head into his pillow and lets out a yell. It’s a good job your hearing is only on the level of a normal human because he was positive the extended noise he made would have brought you running otherwise. And he needed to think right now.

There’s probably a solid ten minutes of silence in his room as he lays there, unmoving while his mind races through all his options. If he admitted that he’d overheard you, then he would probably embarrass you. Taehyung would jump at the chance to finally date you, but he knew that you wouldn’t be able to cope with his career.

You were supportive of him now, but you weren’t in a romantic relationship with him. And he doubted you would be comfortable with the knowledge that he was coming home to kiss, cuddle and have sex with you after having done the same things with random women earlier in the day.

If he was honest with himself then Taehyung knew that he wouldn’t be happy with that too. Despite how he was raised, his mom had been one of many mares in the herd his father had kept over the years, he wanted to be the one for you. Which meant he wouldn’t be content to do things with other women that you only wanted to be done.

He wanted the traditional relationship that many horse hybrids would wrinkle their nose at.

So, he had to figure out how to navigate that.

Lifting himself, he grabs his phone and opens up Google. Taehyung didn’t know many horse hybrid’s who wanted to have a monogamous relationship, but he had met a few over the years. Racking his brain, he tries to remember what they had talked about when he’d queried how they could cope with only being with one partner for life.

Despite his interest in the topic, he’d been young at the time and had still very much enjoyed sleeping with as many women as he could. His feelings for you hadn’t quite become what they were today, so he hadn’t listened too intently. Taehyung regretted that now. Tapping his lips for a moment, he contemplates what to write before he begins to type his request into the search engine.

Horse hybrid hormone inhibitors.

It’s three weeks later when Taehyung finally feels comfortable and knowledgeable enough to make a move. He’d made an appointment with his doctor the very next day after overhearing your conversation. He specialised in hybrid care, in particular those for equine hybrids like Taehyung along with the rare donkey or zebra.

Which meant he wasn’t all that shocked at Taehyung’s unusual enquiry. He probably got the occasional query from an equine hybrid about how to be monogamous. It was rare but not unheard of after all. What had shocked him though, was the fact that it was Taehyung asking it.

Kim Taehyung, the infamous porn star who had built a living on his ability to fuck his way through multiple women on camera. Who had his damn fanbase based almost purely on his cock for god’s sake? It was embarrassing to think about, but he’d known what he was getting into when he’d signed the contract in the first place.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy his job because he did. Taehyung hated that he did, but the sex with many women helped to alleviate all those deeply held instincts and urges within him. Still, now that he knew about you he had no intention of carrying on with his career. Not when he had a chance.

Which was why he’d admitted his feelings towards you to the doctor. Something he’d never thought he’d end up doing, but once everything was out in the open then his doctor was far more understanding of Taehyung’s request. Even encouraging of it. Taehyung was pretty sure that he found the whole story a little sweet and romantic.

Either way, they’d worked out a plan for him to make his life easier if you accepted him. Medications that he would need to take to reduce the overwhelming instincts that drive his hybrid nature and would allow him to engage in monogamy. The idea of that was unbelievably exciting and he’d begun to take his medication only days after the appointment.

After that, he’d gotten together with Jimin. Their weekly hangout usually occurred in a bar, a restaurant or sometimes just hanging around one of their apartments. His best friend had shrieked with delight when Taehyung had explained his predicament and what he was doing to go forward with.

Which had led him to finally asking Jimin if that job offer was still on the plate if everything went right. Taehyung wanted to finally pursue his dream of being a fashion designer and it was so tantalisingly close. He was on the verge of finally having the life he’d always wanted. Hopefully with you.

The first week of being on the medication, which reduced the high levels of testosterone he produced and helped to inhibit his base reactions, had been rough as hell. Taehyung had been on the verge of calling in sick for the first time to a shoot, his body struggling to cope with the change in his body. But he’d pushed through and two weeks later, here he was.

Nervous as fuck and waiting for you to finally come home.

Everything all depended on if you’d accept his request to start a relationship. A serious, romantic relationship that was entirely monogamous. If you said yes, then he had a lawyer all set up to break his contract and a contract just waiting for him with Jimin.

Although really, he’d be quitting his job no matter what happened. He was tired of the porn scene, even if he’d met some wonderfully kind and talented people there. Taehyung had finally decided that he would be moving on with his life and accepting the job with Jimin.

It was up to you whether you wanted to be alongside him, and in what capacity.

The pizza he’d ordered for you both arrived at the same time you came home; a large box of vegetable pizza held in your hands and amusement in your pretty eyes. It makes him smile brightly to see you happy, knowing that you’re pleased he’d taken care of dinner tonight. Especially as it was from your favourite pizzeria; six different kinds of cheeses combined with peppers, onions, eggplant, tomatoes and spinach.

Your favourite kind of pizza, alongside a bottle of red wine that he’d already filled a glass with to let it breathe. The amusement soon turns to suspicion, your brow rising as you kick off your shoes and shrug off your coat.

“What’s all this about?” Gesturing at everything, you settle onto the couch next to him with your legs curled up beneath you. Taehyung bites his lip, sighing softly before reaching out and opening up the box. He doesn’t explain for a few minutes, just letting you both eat a slice of pizza while he watches his beer on the table.

He felt like a teenager, his stomach fizzing with a combination of excitement and nerves that almost makes him feel nauseous. Maybe he shouldn’t be eating right now, but he hasn’t been able to eat all day so far. There would be no use in making himself ill. It would be mortifying for him to throw up all over you.

By the time you’ve eaten two slices, Taehyung has only managed one. But he’s decided that he’s waited long enough. It’s time.

Taking in a deep breath, he lets it out slowly before clearing his throat. After so many years of being friends, he knows that he can talk to you about anything. There are many memories that he’d much rather forget that you’d seen of him, such as that awkward time when he’d had an upset stomach and hadn’t been able to get to the bathroom quick enough.

Not his finest moment and you’d gagged more than once but hey, it was all a bonding experience. Right? Or was that just his opinion on it?

Still, Taehyung found himself pausing; his words sticking in his throat even as he mentally told himself to pull it together. You’d seen all his low points and his highpoints, he did not doubt that you would treat his question with the respect it deserves. But it was still a worry that you might turn him down.

Maybe you’d finally found someone else and wouldn’t want him anymore. The thought made his chest hurt, but he had to know. He had to get the answer to the question that had burned in his thoughts for years now. If you rejected him then he’d be hurt but he’d get over it, especially if it meant you found your happiness.

So why was it so hard to get the words out?

“Hey, are you okay?” Your shoulder bumps into his, pretty face dipping low to catch his eyes. He should have known that you would have realised there was something wrong, or that he wasn’t quite being himself. The way you look at him with such worry and concern makes his anxiety melt away, causing him to smile before he nods.

“I have something to ask you. I mean...you can say no. Please don’t worry about that, if you don’t want to then tell me no. I’ll accept it, I promise. You know I’d never try to force you, right?” He winces, realising that he’s messing this up already given the way your brow creases in confusion. “I mean, god I’m fucking this up. I’m sorry. I just...I have to be honest with you. I accidentally overheard your conversation the other month. I didn’t mean to, it was when you’d come home after your vacation and I’d fallen asleep so I was going back to my room and I overheard you.”

Taehyung is babbling, and he realises that when you gently press a finger to his lips. It would be nice to say that you didn’t look bothered, but there was fear on your face that made him feel sick.

“I believe you.”

Your words are so soft and he almost hums in delight as you run your fingers through his hair, grooming him without even realising. It makes him smile, both at your steadfast belief in him and how you always want to be touching and cleaning him in some way. His fingers itched with the desire to groom you in turn.

He restrained himself, fully aware that if he did then it’d just end up being one half an hour of you both trying to clean each other. The perils of two social hybrids who both have a culture and instinct for grooming. Not what he wanted right now.

The reassurance you give him, combined with the unwavering belief in your eyes, convinces him to just say it. To just get it out and lay his cards on the table. He was nervous, sure, but he’d been nervous many times in his life and he’d overcome all of those moments.

“I heard you say that you like me. In a romantic way. I was really surprised at hearing it, mainly because I didn’t think you’d ever looked at me that way before. Not when I’m the opposite of what you’d want in terms of a relationship. But I want you to know that hearing it made me the happiest I’ve been in a while. Because I like you too. And I have done for a while now. Years.” He says it all with a carefully neutral face, watching you carefully to see if he can gauge your reaction.

For a moment, your expression is a perfect picture in neutrality. The Switzerland of faces, giving nothing away and not letting him see anything that’s going on in your head. It’s frustrating for him when he’s probably feeling too much, but he doesn’t push. Just waits to see what you’ll say.

“What?”

Okay, so perhaps not the eloquent acceptance of his feelings that he’d expected. But it’s not an outright rejection. He can work with this, there’s potential here.

Licking his lips, he takes a deep breath before carefully shifting until he’s facing you on the couch. Your eyes are so wide, shining in the light and making him think it looks like you hold the secrets of the universe deep within. He can’t help but smile at it, at how young and innocent you look.

Smile at the tentative hope he thinks he can spy.

“I like you, Chirp. Like, like you. Probably would use a stronger word if I wasn’t already afraid I’m scaring you away. I know that I’m not what you’d want in a partner, which is why I’ve never made a move over the years. But I’ve always hoped, which is why I never got a herd of my own,

“I love being around you, I love hearing you sing and laugh, I love talking to you, I love hearing you talk to others, I love how you’re so affectionate and always want to groom me along with chatting my ears off. I never said anything though, because most of all, I valued our friendship. And I knew that you wanted someone who could be your life-partner, something I wasn’t sure if I could be.” Taehyung pauses, twisting his lips before looking down at his hands.

“But then I heard you talking and I realised that there might be a possibility. A small one maybe, but I knew I had to at last try. Something I want you to know though is that everything I’m about to tell you that I’ve done has been done for myself because I finally realised that I have to move forward with my life. So, firstly, I talked to my doctor and I’ve started some medication that helps to inhibit my instincts when it comes to relationships and sex.” Pausing, he eyes you to gauge how you’re taking the news.

The head tilt you give is very birdlike, causing him to chuckle without even meaning to. He can’t help it though, not when you look so sweet right then with your bright hair and big eyes.

“I don’t have the urge to have sex with lots of women or make my herd anymore. We talked about it extensively and decided this would be my best course of action to allow me to have a healthy, monogamous relationship. Because of that, I’ve also quit my job and taken up the offer Jimin’s been giving me for years now.”

Despite the fact he’s mid-confession to you, the excitement in his stomach at that very moment is more to do with the fact he was going to finally have his dream career. That he was going to be doing a job which he’d been wanting to accept for years.

Understandably, his words cause you to suddenly gasp in delight before you’re clapping your hands eagerly. The excitement and happiness are purely for him finally taking proper control of his life, ridding himself of the pornography career that he’d enjoyed but hadn’t loved. Something you’d known for a while now.

“Oh my god? You’re going to work with Jimin?! You took the job! TaeTae, I’m so happy for you!” Even though he’d just admitted to you that he was near enough in love with you, your emotions were purely focused on the fact he’d taken the job. Feeling your approval and genuine joy at his life change, he can’t help but give you a wide, boxy grin even while the apples of his cheeks turn a soft rose.

“Thanks, I think Jimin was more excited than anyone to be honest. Pretty sure he’s already organising a design space for me in his building alongside an office. Makes me feel kind of bad for waiting so long to take him up on it but I feel like I’m finally at a place in my life that I’m truly ready for that career change.” That seems to remind you of what he’d told you earlier, about his medication.

Your elated expression slowly fades and he watches in trepidation as your brow creased, the mood dimming. Were you unhappy with his choice? Taking a deep breath, he holds it for a moment before letting it out slowly.

“I want you to know that there is no pressure on you. For anything. I’m going to continue taking this medication because I want to focus on my new career without having to worry about any urges taking over. The side benefit to it means that...well,” He pauses for a moment. “I can have a proper relationship. Or at least, the kind of relationship that you’d want. If you want that. With me.”

There’s complete silence in the room and Taehyung feels the sudden urge to grab another slice of pizza and start eating. Just for something to do with his hands and to distract himself.

He doesn’t push though, just lets you process what he’s told you. It was a lot, so he wasn’t even particularly expecting an answer tonight. If he were being honest, then he wouldn’t be surprised if you took yourself off to your room for the night. Or even went to one of your friends to talk it over with them.

But as usual, you surprise him. You may be small and dainty compared to him, light as a feather and full of cheer, but your personality has always been big and bold. Which is why you tackle the topic head-on.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear, you know that right?” Is your first question and Taehyung nods quickly, reaching out to encompass your much smaller hand with his own. There’s nothing too familiar about the gesture, just a squeeze of reassurance to let you know he understands and isn’t mad or anything.

“I know. It was entirely my fault. I should’ve carried on as soon as I heard that you were talking but I just heard my name and...well.” He trails off, giving an awkward smile that causes you to smile in return. The gentle pressure on his hand makes him realise that you’re now trying to assuage his fears that you were annoyed.

“Hey, it’s okay. You may not have too many physical features of your animal side but you’ve got plenty of their abilities. We both know that you can’t control the fact that you can hear much better, so I don’t blame you. Nor do I blame you for stopping to listen. Especially when you realised what I was talking about,” Now it’s your turn to look abashed, gaze skittering away from his and down to your still joined hands. “I’d have done the same thing if I heard you talking about me.”

Swallowing, Taehyung wonders how he’s meant to respond to that. He didn’t know what he’d say anyway as his stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies suddenly. Really big, horrible butterflies that are making him feel nauseous.

“So yeah, I’m not angry or annoyed over that. Please don’t worry too much. If anything...I’m kind of glad. Because it means you’ve confronted this head-on and now we both know how we feel about each other. Which is that we like each other. A lot. In case it wasn’t clear, I like you too. Really like you. But I also thought it wouldn’t work because I know what I want and need from my partner in my life and I knew that your instincts clashed with that. Again, not your fault. You can’t deny nature and I tried to make sure that you never felt like I was.” There’s a hint of something in your voice but Taehyung can’t figure it out.

Pain? Embarrassment? Worry?

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get a chance to query it because you forge on. The sweet lovebird he’d known for years seems to be wavering between shyness at talking about your feelings and determination to have everything laid out.

He can understand the feeling.

“You know, I’ve fantasised about this for years, but now that it’s happening-”

“You don’t know how to communicate what you’re feeling and it’s all way more awkward and not nearly as romantic or sexy as you’d imagined?” Taehyung finishes for you, biting his lip as he grins broadly. You snort in amusement before nodding, playing with his fingers for a minute or so as you try to rationalise it all in your head.

“Did you go on whatever that medication is...for me? Like...because you wanted a relationship? With me? I know you’ve said it’s also because you wanted a career doing something you’ve always wanted but…” Trailing off, you can’t seem to look him in the eyes.

Carefully, he uses his free hand to lift your chin until he can see you. There’s a brief moment where you try to avoid his gaze before you give in, staring back just as deeply. Nerves, fear and hope are warring within him and he imagines that he can see it reflected in your own eyes.

“I’m not going to say no because overhearing your conversation was what spurred me to talk to my doctor. Finding out that you liked me back and that I might have a chance with you made me want to try to make sure you get the best of me. I knew that there are horse hybrids out there who have monogamous relationships and who are happy, but I didn’t think that would be a possibility for me. And given what I was doing for my career, I thought it was just better to carry on as I was,

“But then when I was talking to him about it all, I realised that it would help me in other aspects of my life too. Yes, I could finally offer you the kind of relationship that you want and that I want to have with you, but it would also let me leave behind the porn and start focusing on what I want to do. You know that I’ve never really been one of those stallions who wants a herd and the porn helped me to get rid of those urges without giving in to them properly. I looked into it for you, but I took it for me.” Licking his lips, Taehyung realises that he feels lighter.

Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he realises it’s because of what he’d told you. He’d been convinced that he was doing this to have a chance with you in the way he’d always dreamed of, but it was startling to realise that it was having such a positive effect in the rest of his life. For once, he was no slave to his instincts and had full control over himself, his emotions and his desires.

Just the thought of never having to do another film filled him with joy and happiness.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to have changed yourself for me. But given that you have...what does it mean? Tell me.” Those pretty eyes, so big and wide, watch him intently and he gives a small half-smile as he shrugs with one shoulder.

“I mean...it’s basically like an inhibitor I guess? Reduces the amount of testosterone I produce, makes me less reactive to the scent of mares in heat and all that. There’s a whole bunch of medical stuff that I don’t understand but I just know what the doctor told me. It’s safe, it’s been tested many times before, and if things don’t work out, then I can come off them and be back to my old self. It just means that I won’t have the desire to have a herd or to...well sleep with multiple women, you know? Let’s be monogamous, a one-woman man. Finally.” Chuckling to himself, he runs his fingers through his pale hair so it’s out of his eyes.

“So...we could be together? Like...in a relationship? Just me and you?”

“Yeah. The doctor said that as long as I’m on the medication then I’ll be like any other human or hybrid who doesn’t have a poly instinct. Not that there’s anything wrong with that obviously, but it means we can be together. In the future, if you want to be in a relationship or something...then if we decide to have kids or to not have them, I can get gelded and that’ll get rid of the instincts permanently.” Now your eyes widen in horror, hand covering your mouth as you gasp loudly.

“Gelded? They’d castrate you?” There’s a glance down from his face to his groin from you and he can’t help but laugh at the thought. Even if it does make him want to cup his balls protectively.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! It’s okay! It’s just a vasectomy. Because I’m a stallion, it’s called being gelded. After that, I’d be officially known as a gelding. No longer able to have babies and with no real instinct to make my herd anymore.” Thankfully you look relieved at that and he wants to tease you about being so worried about his testicles. But instead, he just feels happy that you don’t tease him in turn about talking about potential babies already.

That’s a good sign.

“Okay. Okay...so, let’s think about this logically. I mean, is that being too cold? You admit that you like me back and you’re on medication to allow us to be in a relationship and I’m saying we need to think logically?” Taehyung pauses you with a finger to your lips, a smile on his own before he carefully wraps his arms around your shoulders.

He makes sure to give you plenty of time to make sure that you can pull away if you want to if you’re not comfortable with this, but you don’t. Instead, you almost seem to relax into him and link your arms around his waist. You can probably feel his heart beating through his chest, the muscle working extra hard while he feels a little breathless.

It’s not the first time he’s held you, but it feels different this time. There’s something more intimate about it and he can’t help but take a deep breath in, enjoying your scent.

“It’s fine. I’m kind of glad because I’ve made a complete mess of explaining myself here. So at least one of us can think more logically about it.”

“You didn’t do a terrible job. I mean...I’m certainly not going to vote for you or anything but it wasn’t bad. My question to you then...are we dating now?” And just like that, Taehyung’s breath is taken away. To the point, he almost chokes on his spit and ends up having a coughing fit.

Directly into your face, ruining any hint of romance.

Yep, he’d truly fucked this confession up. Taehyung was just lucky that you’d known him for so long that it just made your nose wrinkle as you wiped at your face with your shirt, grumbling lightly before pushing his shoulder.

“Gross.”

“Sorry! I wasn’t expecting that though! I mean, you just straight up asked. I was expecting like...more talking and exchanging feelings. More awkwardness.” Leaning away from him, you give him a very droll stare that makes him wince. Well, at least it was awkward now.

“Sorry for not living up to those weird expectations I guess? I just figure that we’ve spent long enough dancing around each other, right? I don’t want to waste any more time or have any more miscommunication so if it’s too abrupt for you then I’m still not sorry. I like you, Kim Taehyung. And given what you’ve told me, and what you’ve done for me, I want to finally have that relationship I’ve been wanting for so many years.” The authoritative tone in your voice is more attractive than he’d expected, causing his brow to rise.

Feisty.

“Okay. Yes. Yes, we’re dating. Together. We’re together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. I need to shut up.” Clamming up, he forces his mouth to shut and for his muscles to remain still. In reality, he wants to jump for joy and scream out that this was happening. Even if part of him is embarrassed that he’s incapable of talking now.

It’s all worth it though when you give him a huge smile, so big and bright and full of happiness.

“You’re cute, you know that?” Now he’s blushing; cheeks high and a delightful rose as he tries to contain his smile. He’s supposed to be cool, the epitome of an educated man who is extremely experienced around women. And yet here he is, acting like a teenager getting his first girlfriend.

“Not what I normally get called.” You’re the one who looks a little shy at that, your eyes darting away from his as you bite at your lip. There’s a hint of nerves to you now and something else, something he can’t quite figure out. The way you wiggle slightly in place has him frowning in confusion, wondering what’s made you suddenly so quiet. This was the behaviour he’d been expecting from you, so it felt a relief to finally get it but also strange given how confident you’d been.

“What’s wrong? Where’s my bold girlfriend gone?” Gently poking your waist, he tries to ignore the thrill that rises inside him when he calls you that. It was going to take some time to get used to it.

Thankfully, it also manages to breakthrough whatever shell you’d suddenly formed around yourself. Grasping his hand with your own, you let out a soft whine as he continues to prod at you and he quickly intertwines his fingers with your own. For a moment, he’s too busy staring down at your hand in amused awe to remember what he’d asked you.

“Your hand is tiny, you know that?”

“No, you just have huge hands. All of you is huge, just like all of me is small. The difference between a horse and a lovebird.” Now it’s your turn to push at his stomach, a small smile on your face. Taehyung grins at that, but he grins, even more, when he catches your eyes flicking down to his lap.

It all clicked into place in his head, from the way you got shy at him saying he’s not normally called cute to the way you call him huge. You’re not wrong; Taehyung is massive when compared to you. Denser bones add to it at all, allowing him to lift and move heavy weights with ease whereas you’d developed a lighter bone structure that was more reminiscent of birds.

Taehyung had never broken a bone before, whereas you had to be careful doing certain things. But the size difference between you both was made even more obvious when he thought about sex. He was bigger than most human and hybrid males down below, and he wondered if there was something wrong with him that the knowledge you knew that turned him on.

Not that you’d ever seen him naked or anything, but you weren’t stupid. He was infamous in the porn industry for a reason.

Which suddenly made him consider something, his head tilting slightly as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Have you ever watched my stuff? Like my films or anything? I know for a fact that some of them are on those free porn sites.” Biting his lip, he watches closely for any positive sign. One of the benefits of being a horse hybrid was that he was highly attuned to microexpressions in others.

Originally meant to watch out for danger and keep himself safe, it was more useful for getting an idea of where a conversation was going. It also made Taehyung feel very stupid that he’d never noticed you were in love with him before.

He doesn’t need to have any extra abilities to read your face right now though, not with how you look almost like you wish the floor would swallow you whole. You can’t even meet his eyes and it delights him.

“You have!”

“No! I wouldn’t do that, you’re my best friend. That’d be weird.” Taehyung can sense the distress in your voice and he forces himself to tone down. He had no issues with the idea of you watching his stuff; if anything it was a turn on. But this relationship was so new that it had barely been born and he didn’t want to push your boundaries just yet.

Still, he felt like he had a right to know.

“Hey, listen to me, it wouldn’t bother me if you did. I actually would find it a turn on to know you’ve watched me. I hope you weren’t upset though, I only did all of that to satisfy my instincts so that I could enjoy my time with you. But I made those films and videos for people to enjoy. If you got off to some of them that I’d consider it a job well done. Don’t feel embarrassed if you did.” Using his free hand, he lets his fingers trail along your cheek. It’s warm beneath his touch, the blood rushing in response to your tumultuous emotions and he reassuringly runs his thumb across it.

“You’re...you’re not bothered by the idea of that?”

Taehyung chuckles at your disbelief and shrugs genially, making sure to portray an aura of calm and serenity. The only thing that bothered him about the idea of you watching his videos was that he was already sporting a semi at the very thought of his supposed ‘innocent’ best friend watching him railing some mare.

Which should be a terrible thought, but it just meant that he was all the more experienced for you. There would be no doubt in his mind that he could show you a world of pleasure that you’d never even imagined; as pompous and egotistic as that sounded.

Sex was his area of expertise though.

“I mean...I knew it was a risk when I started. I make porn. Porn is available freely on the internet and I fully expected some of my friends to be at least a little curious. Plus, there’s the whole ‘horse hybrid’ thing going on. I don’t tend to get embarrassed easily around sex. If anything, it’s kinda exciting knowing that you’ve seen some.” You’re giving him a look of pure confusion and he can’t help but laugh heartily.

Oh, he loves you. He loves how befuddled you are at his refusal to adhere to your expectations. Given how reserved you were normally about sex and relationships, it was delightful to shatter your illusions surrounding him and make your perusal of his work sound like a benefit rather than something to be ashamed of.

“So...what did you think? You’ve never given me a rating before, so I’m curious.” Once more, your eyes dart away from his and he has to stifle a snort at how you suddenly find the wall so interesting. The artwork on there was nice, he’d picked it out himself, but it wasn’t that nice.

He doesn’t push though. What he wants is for this relationship to start on trust and honesty. So if you want to trust him enough to be honest about your opinion then he’d accept that. If it was still too early for you; he’d accept that too.

“It was good. I mean, I haven’t watched much. It was years ago and only a few minutes before I felt weird. Like I was spying on you. That’s it though! I swear I haven’t seen anything else. It felt like I was...perving on you or something.” Grasping at his hands desperately, you give him such big eyes that try to get across your honesty.

It makes his lips quirk in amusement and he links your fingers together once more, squeezing lightly. For a few moments, he considers how to respond to you before deciding to just go for it. Which means he slowly leans forward to you, eyes flicking down to your lips and giving you plenty of chances to pull away and leave.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a little bit of a relief, knowing you’ve seen at least something. But most importantly...can I kiss you?” Taehyung swears you deflate, your entire body seeming to relax with a deep breath you let out.

He’d be worried if it wasn’t for the huge grin that you have painted on your face now, the delight making your skin almost glow with health and happiness. It’s a beautiful look and he feels like he’s enraptured once more, falling in love with you all over again. At least now he has an outlet for these mushy feelings.

“Finally!”

There’s only time for Taehyung’s eyes to widen in shock before you’re shaking your hands free of his own and grasping at his shirt. With a surprising amount of strength, you jerk him forwards and his lips crash against your own. That’s the only way to describe it, as it kinda hurts. His lips mashed against his teeth a little and his nose bumps against yours, causing him to whine.

You let him go almost immediately, looking intensely embarrassed as you rub at your mouth and nose. He does the same, making sure that there’s nothing wrong with his beloved nose while licking at his lips to soothe the dull ache. But then he can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and rumbling up from his chest as he contemplates what just happened.

Every time that he thought you would zig, you instead zagged. Over the years, he’d learnt to go with the flow with you in regards to this with his friendship but for some reason, he’d never quite realised that it would be much the same with a romantic relationship. You defied his expectations and made him feel like he was constantly on his toes.

He loved it, including when almost headbutted him with your first kiss.

“I am so sorry-” You start, your eyes wide and worry emanating from you. He shakes his head, trying to stifle his amusement before reaching out and cupping your face with a gentle touch.

“Okay, how about we try this again but...a little slower this time, yeah?” Keeping your face steady, he inches forward until he can feel your warm breath on his cheek. You’ve already closed your eyes in anticipation and he has to squash the desire to grin, instead fulfilling both of your wishes by pressing his lips against your own.

It’s a soft and gentle kiss at first, exploratory and uncertain. Neither of you knows how to kiss the other properly, or what the other likes, and so you both simply...take your time. Taehyung’s thumb strokes along with the softness of your cheek while your hands flatten against his chest, palms hot where they rest.

He’s kissed a lot of women in his life; some he’s proud of, some he’s not and some he doesn’t even care about. But this is the best kiss so far. Even as slow and unsure as it is, it’s still the best.

Because it’s you.

There’s more than a hint of inexperience in your kiss and it doesn’t surprise him. He knows that you’ve at least kissed a few people before, but you didn’t have a huge amount of experience in it. Instead, it’s just enough that he feels comfortable but not enough to have you take the lead.

So he does, instead. And given how bold you’d been earlier, he takes the initiative to be bold this time as well.

With almost minimal strength required on his behalf, he slips his hands down to your hips and grips them tightly, lifting and depositing you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. He doesn’t even make a noise as he does so, your weight nothing to him.

His ancestors had been bred for heavy lifting and pulling, after all.

What he doesn’t anticipate though, is the way you moan into his mouth or how you wiggle slightly at his action. Pulling from you, one brow lifts as he looks you over inquisitively. His question is silent, but you understand it immediately. There’s nowhere for you to look now, not when you’re so close to him.

So you stare at his chin instead, carefully avoiding his eyes as your hands move to play with his soft hair. The blonde strands are almost golden instead of platinum in the soft light of the nearby lamp, just visible in his vision from where you stroke them.

“I forget how strong you are sometimes.” The words are muttered and he gets the impression that you’re hoping he doesn’t hear. And that he won’t query it further. But he does, of course, he does.

“Do you have a strength kink, Chirp?”

“Wha-no! That’s, why would I-” Spluttering, you lean back a little and take a moment to shuffle until you’re more comfortable on his lap. Your legs are on either side of his now, comfortable in their almost kneeling position but most of your weight is on his legs. He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist and tug you closer, enjoying the warmth you give him.

“It’s cool if you do. I can fulfil that. Not yet though, if that’s okay. But I need you to know something right now. I don’t want us to have sex right now. Not yet. Since being a teenager, I’ve been obsessed with sex. An unfortunate side effect of being a stallion. For the first time in my adult life...I don’t feel an insatiable need for it. And it’s kinda nice. I don’t want us to start our relationship with sex. I want us to explore each other and our relationship first and then introduce sex. I need to learn that sex is something intimate and between only us now. I’ve spent too long viewing it as work.” He tries to make sure that his words are carefully said and that he’s not rushing them, but now he’s the one a little nervous.

You’d been far bolder than he’d ever expected and now he was worried that you might expect sex from him immediately. It was an easy, even acceptable, assumption to make given what he was and his career. But he didn’t want that. As he’d said, he wanted to start this relationship with love and trust.

Lust could come later.

There’s no answer from you for a moment and he sighs, letting his hands awkwardly stroke at your sides in an attempt to give them something to do.

“I’m sorry if that’s not what you were expecting. Or not what you wanted. I’m a little surprised you’ve been so forward with me and-” A soft fingertip presses against his lips, causing him to quieten instantly.

Smiling softly, you lean forward and kiss him. It’s just as chaste as the one previously, only you’ve controlled yourself a little more compared to your first attempt. He takes solace in it though and now his body is the one deflating. There’s a silent acceptance in that kiss.

When you finally pull away from him, he finds himself chasing after you. It’s an odd sensation for him to do that without any intention of going further but he finds that he likes it. There’s no doubt that you can feel what’s going on in his pants; he can’t control everything after all but just because his body is saying yes doesn’t mean his mind is.

And you accept that. He can tell instantly, from the reassuring smile you give him and how you embrace him so warmly and carefully.

“It’s okay, Tae. I’ll admit to being a little disappointed but I can understand your reasoning behind it. And I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to. I know you’d do the same for me. I guess it’s just going to make it better when we finally do get to it, right?” Teasing him, you stick your tongue out and poke at his cheek.

Almost immediately, his nose wrinkles and your laugh lightly. For a moment, the sounds are almost like chirping and he can see your lovebird origins so clearly. That was to say nothing of the fact that you were now subconsciously grooming his hair, fingertips running through the platinum strands and getting rid of any unfortunate kinks or knots.

“Thank you.” He whispers, letting his hands wrap around your waist until he’s hugging you. It takes minimal effort to have you plastered against him, head resting on his shoulder as he embraces you so tightly. You smell heavenly, and he wonders what he did to be given the chance to be with you after so many years.

“Can we go on a date though? I mean...like now?” Tilting his head back, he frowns before looking at the table and the pizza boxes.

“What? Where? We’ve already eaten?”

“Okay, but I’m kinda horny and you’re kinda horny and I think we both need to talk a walk and cool down. So...how about we have our first date? I’ve been waiting a while for this, Kim Taehyung.” Your smile is so big and bright, dazzling him and making his stomach flutter.

He doesn’t even realise he’s nodding until you practically launch yourself from his lap, rushing over to the door and chattering away. If he was being honest, he had no idea what you were talking about as you quickly pulled your shoes on and sorted out your bag.

Taehyung didn’t even care, because he’d done it. He had the girl he’d been in love with for years, who he’d been certain he had no chance with. You could regale him with a thousand and one tales and he’d listen to them all with a content smile because he was yours, and you were his.

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okietokiee · 5 years

Text

Fic: Söt (Ch. 1)

Summary: Skwisgaar comes to terms with some extremely un-metal, disgustingly mushy feelings he has for the new kid. (Pre-Klok, right after the audition)

Rating: Teen

Chapters: 1/5

Pairings: Skwisgaar Skwigelf/Toki Wartooth

Notes: This is my first Skwistok fic and it’s basically an excuse to make Skwisgaar suffer badly over the fact that he finds Toki insanely, irredeemably fucking adorable and he can’t stand it LOL

Also, apologies for any mistakes!

Skwisgaar Skwigelf was not a man known for being overly emotional. He was an absolute charmer to the young and old groupies alike, but he kept a definite distance between himself and his bedmates, ever the polite, handsome, closed-off gentleman that always sent off his multiple lovers with a suave kiss to the hand and a non-committal wink, hinting at a second round that was unlikely to ever occur.

His blase, cool-tempered nature did nothing but draw even more blushing ladies to him, each more provocatively-dressed and seductive than the last. Even the GMILFs often primped themselves up a bit for him, wearing their silkiest, shiniest nightgowns and bonnets.

But no matter what, Skwisgaar kept a certain air of nonchalance around him and he knew exactly how it drove the ladies wild.

Skwisgaar would’ve been content living his days like this forever; known as the golden, emotionally-constipated adonis that could fulfill every woman’s ultimate fantasies, as long as those fantasies included nothing about a relationship or commitment.

He’d never even felt much emotional pull towards anyone in his life, not even the sexiest groupies that loitered around after a show.

Skwisgaar attributed it to the fact that no one was interesting enough to catch his eye in any way. He was a God of guitar and sex, and regardless of how much the groupies’ skimpy outfits and embroidered aprons tugged at his loins, they never tugged at his heart.

At least, that used to be the case.

Hell, it would be so much easier for Skwisgaar if it would stay that way because he’s extremely happy with his life, thank you very much. He’s a handsome, collected gentleman with refined tastes and raunchy habits.

And these are the reasons he can’t fucking wrap his head around whatever it is he’s started feeling whenever he’s around his band’s new rhythm guitarist.

The audition for the new rhythm went a lot more unpredictably than he’d originally expected, and he ended up going against his own whims and hiring some kid on the spot.

And that’s the perfect description for the guy. He couldn’t be older than 16, which was practically a child in Skwisgaar’s opinion when compared to his 25 years on earth. Toki was his name and he was young, naive, and as hilariously out of touch with American culture as Skwisgaar once was when he first immigrated.

The kid normally wouldn’t even cause a blip in Skwisgaar’s radar, let along change his course completely. Now, in the comforts of his small, dingy room in his tiny, rundown apartment, Skwisgaar rapidly fingerpicking his guitar, questioning his sanity.

He wouldn’t lie and say that he was completely oblivious to his reasons though. Shocked and appalled, yes, but regardless of what his broken english suggested he was not completely daft to the inner workings of his own mind. The kid had something about him. It wasn’t just ambition and it wasn’t just talent. There had been plenty of those types who had auditioned before him that Skwisgaar completely blew out of the water. Boring mechanical techniques and overconfident arrogance was no match for the brilliant and dexterity Skwisgaar could exhibit with his eyes closed.

No, the kid was special somehow. And it was driving Skwisgaar crazy trying to put his finger on what, why, and how this Toki seemed to shine brighter than a blazing star when he played. He can honestly say without a doubt that he’d never felt that intoxicating burst of pure energy while playing in his life.

The guitar is his heart and his music the blood that flows through it and keeps it beating. It’s the only thing that he can say, with no hesitation, brings him pure unadulterated joy and satisfaction.

The feeling of playing his music was a feeling he never thought anything in the world could top; the best drugs or hottest groupies in the world would never best the feeling of his explorer in his hands, creating the godly music that effortlessly flows through his fingertips

He never thought it could possibly get any better. At least, until that kid showed up and showed him exactly what it meant to rise to the highest precipice of his art, experience the exhilarating speed of music pouring out of his soul, and for once in his life, experience this with a kindred spirit, the first person he’s ever met who could so closely match him riff for riff. Regardless of Toki’s abrupt downfall, Skwisgaar was still awestruck at what the boy was capable of.

The fact that this short, half-starved runt that looked like he’d been living off the streets can just waltz in with his beaten up Gibson and push Skwisgaar to higher limits he did not even conceive as possible; it was infuriating and intoxicating all in the same breath.

This young boy with his familiar accent and friendly demeanor. His big, blue eyes and his soft chocolate hair.

Fuck, his existence alone was doing something to Skwisgaar and he couldn’t stand it.

Those eyes were just too blue! He’d never seen anything like them before, even in Sweden, he didn’t remember ever seeing such big, icy eyes that did something to him he felt too disturbed by to acknowledge.

Suddenly, Skwisgaar was interrupted from his pensive musing by a hesitant knock on his door.

“Comes in.”

Slowly the door opened and the pair of blue eyes driving Skwisgaar mad with something he can’t explain peeked through.

“Um… H-hellos Misters Skwisgaar, Nathans told mes I shoulds asks you if I can sleeps in here tonights... Is that alrights with yous?”

Toki, the poor lad, was tensed up and visibly nervous, bracing himself for a rejection and scolding for bothering Skwisgaar after strict instructions to leave him alone and find something to entertain himself with the rest of the band in the living room.

Skwisgaar was exhausted after a long day of battling mediocre guitarists, he wanted some reprieve from everyone and everything. If any of the other members had bothered him when he was in one of his moods, that would be grounds for a litany of angry, barely-understandable curse words, but this was different. Skwisgaar sat up from his bed, setting his Gibson down next to him, and gave Toki a slight, indifferent nod.

“Fines. Just donts be makings too much of the noises. I’m tryings to write a new solos.”

“Yes, Misters Skwisgaar! Toki will be quiets! You won’t evens knows I’s here!” Toki smiled widely, making a move to presumably leave and retrieve his meager belongings.

“Toki.”

Skwisgaar spoke too fast to stop himself. Toki gave him a confused look and Skwisgaar was internally facepalming.

“Justs… calls me Skwisgaar. I’m nots a olds grandpas yet!” He tried to laugh off his mistake.

Toki’s smile brightened even more, something Skwisgaar didn’t think was possible. “Yes Skwisgaar! Tank yous!”

And with that he was off.

It was apparent that Nathan had decided to pawn off the new kid to Skwisgaar for tonight and likely every other night in the foreseeable future until they can figure out a better living arrangement.

Out of every member of the band, Skwisgaar was the only one who had his own place. It was a ratty one-bedroom on the bad side of town, but it was his. Pickles and Nathan rented a considerably nicer place together as roommates, where they did most of their recordings, and Murderface crashed (lived) on their couch more often than not.

After they discovered Toki was basically homeless, it made sense Nathan would lump them together. The two matching Scandinavian guitarists, of course Nathan would force them together like two peas in a pod. Didn’t mean Skwisgaar couldn’t complain about it.

“Tsk. Fuckins racist.”

“Whats you say Skwisgaar?”

Skwisgaar was startled up.

“Eeuugh! Toki, don’ts comes in without knockins.”

Toki looked sheepish. “Sorries… I just wants to says I gots a sleepinks bag from Pickle! It’s… uh… okays if I sleeps now?” Toki stumbled through.

This made Skwisgaar pause. He took the moment to give Toki a long, hard look, something he hadn’t done since the kid completely changed his perception on guitar playing completely. Looking closely, he saw the obvious signs of exhaustion on Toki’s face, his sunken cheeks and dark, baggy eyes. Skwisgaar assumed its been a while since Toki had a comfortable place to sleep and a roof over his head. And a shower too now that he thought about it, seeing Toki’s clean hair and skin which was hidden under a layer of grime just a few hours ago. Did he eat? Surely the rest of the guys would’ve gotten something, though Skwisgaar was prone to skipping meals. Because the kid was definitely in desperate need of a meal-

“Skwisgaar?”

Snapped out of his train of thoughts, Skwisgaar forced himself to regain a mask of indifference.

“Yeahs, go aheads Toki. I was abouts to bes sleepinks too.” Skwisgaar waved to a plush white rug parallel to his bed to signal for Toki to take that spot. “Turns off the lights.”

Toki happily obeyed and curled up on the soft faux fur rug Skwisgaar was oddly attached to.

A few minutes ticked by in complete darkness and Skwisgaar was tense in the dead silence. Then, all too abruptly, Toki broke it.

“Ah… Skwisgaar?”

Skwisgaar forced himself to relax and apathetically replied, “Yes Toki.”

“Toki just wanteds to says… tank you. I am sos happies I mades it to the audiktions. Toki promiskes you won’ts regrets this. Good nights.” Toki said gratefully with an obvious smile in his tone.

Skwisgaar was speechless. And he remained speechless, until he heard Toki’s soft snoring fill the room. Of course he deserved to be thanked. He was the lead guitarist of Dethklok, a master of his craft. It was an act of true goodwill, him letting this runaway kid join them. Hell, Skwisgaar didn’t need much to fill his ego and he expected all mere peasants to be grateful for whatever he deans to give them.

But this was different. What Toki said, those innocuous, meek words, they didn’t fill Skwisgaar with the usual self-importance. They made him feel strange. Like there was a twisting in his gut and a disturbing pit in his chest that almost felt warm and mushy. The shit normal people probably feel when they see a newborn kitten. Not Skwisgaar though, he was the stone-cold adonis, even kittens didn’t soften his heart. Regardless of how soft their fur is, or how big and beautiful their eyes are, or fuzzy their tiny little paws-

“Euugh!” Skwisgaar let out an involuntary sneer which he quickly quieted. He chanced a glance at Toki’s still snoring form and breathed a sigh of relief.

Yes, fine, maybe kittens had certain characteristics about them that were pretty nice, but Skwisgaar was confused at his train of thought. Whatever it was that Toki made Skwisgaar feel, it was reminiscent of the yucky, gooey emotions small animals inspired in him as well.

Skwisgaar had no clue what to do with that fact, but his exhaustion was finally catching up with him. With a sigh, he rolled over, and fell asleep to the rhythmic snoring of one Toki Wartooth.

#metalocalypse #mtl #my fics #skwistok #my fanfic

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nerdie-faerie · 5 years

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Scars of the Pandorica - Chapter One.

This chapter has been driving me crazy but I’m finally posting it, here you go @michael-the-angelo

Rose darted into the familiar hardware store as rain pelted down on her from above. The weather had been bizarre lately. It could switch at the drop of a hat, one moment they were experiencing a heatwave, the next weeks of snow. She knew better than to believe it was simple climate change or to pass it off as a coincidence that it started around the same time her scar appeared. It had been a month since then and she was no closer to figuring out what it was than when she’d started.

She shivered in the shop’s entrance, the sound of the bell still ringing in her ears. The owner was a man in his twenty with long dark blond hair that went past his shoulders, rectangular glasses and he always wore t-shirts for bands Rose didn’t recognise as they were specific to this universe. She’d not had much time to catch up on pop culture since she’d returned to Pete’s universe. Okay that was a lie she’d had two centuries but she’d deemed it unimportant and a fruitless task. It was a constantly changing entity that was impossible to keep track of.

“Rose! What can I do for you?”

“Scalpels? Got any scalpels?” She asked in a rush.

“Scalpels? What do you need those for?”

“Rob, how long have you known me?” She teased.

He sighed.

“Long enough to know not to question what you do in that madhouse of yours.” He recited with an eye roll.

“Exactly.”

“We don’t have any scalpels but we’ve got some craft knives.”

“That’ll do.”

“Third aisle on the left.”

“Thanks.”

“You owe me a lasagna!” He called after her.

“Sure thing.”

She was certain she’d had a scalpel at some point but she’d lost it sometime between dismantling the toaster and prodding at some alien junk she’d found. And she’d somehow lost all of her kitchen knives but that might have been from decades ago she couldn’t remember anymore. It was just another of the many things she didn’t bother to remember, if it was important it would come to her.

She located the knife easily and was soon back in her apartment. She’d changed into a tank top and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, wanting to create as little cleaning up for herself as possible.

She’d tried all number of things to figure out what the hell the scar was because it sure as hell wasn’t natural, but so far nothing. It was being unreasonably stubborn. And she was losing patience, had even started to speculate that there was something inside the scar tissue or behind preventing her body from healing already.

She was by no means a medical practitioner and would likely only make things worse but she hadn’t yet encountered anything that she couldn’t come back from.

She twirled the knife between her fingers, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She’d washed the blade while a voice in the back of her head taunted her about the impossibility of infections and blood poisoning, and how the whole ritual was a waste of time she was using to disguise her fear.

She growled under breath as the voice piped up again and without a second thought she plunged the blade into the dead centre of the jagged scar tissue.

A scream tore itself free from her throat. Her hand burned and blistered as she clutched the craft knife but she barely registered it, as hundreds of images hurtled through her brain. Half a dozen people she didn’t recognise. It seemed to be going through a list as she was shown several different images of the same person before it moved onto the next. A teenage girl with brown hair, a young boy, a pale blonde, a young man and two women who appeared to be in their twenties with brown hair and similar features. She didn’t know what it was about these two but they were clearly important as it seemed to pause a little longer on each image of them for a little longer than all the people previously.

But soon it was too much. The sensation of fire consuming her mind was torture, she tore the blade free and was left gasping as the flames finally retreated. She turned her head wearily to the side to look at her bloodied and battered shoulder. She watched as the skin healed in an unfamiliar white glow, so different from the usual gold she’d become accustomed to. The wound finally closed, the glow being sealed off with it, but still, the scar remained completely unchanged.

She growled in frustration. She was getting nowhere with this. Grabbing a dishcloth she swiped at her shoulder a couple of times, removing all traces of blood when there was knock at the door. She tossed the rag at the knife effectively covering it, before heading to the door.

Stood in the corridor was a figure obscured by the bright flashlight that was currently shining directly into Rose’s eyes. She raised a hand to shield her eyes.

“Ms Spencer?”

“Sorry dear,” She lowered the torch. “the power’s out all throughout the complex we’re just checking that everyone’s okay or if they need a light.”

“A power cut?” Rose looked back over her shoulder into her apartment, and sure enough, all sources of light had disappeared except traces of light from the windows as her at was swept in rays of orange from the streetlights.

“You hadn’t noticed dear?”

She turned back to the concerned gaze of her plump, black-haired neighbour.

“Uh no. I was taking a nap.”

“A nap? But I heard you screaming dear.”

“Yeah,” She gulped, as images from moments before threatened to overwhelm her again. “Nightmares.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Are you sure you’ll be alright, dear? I can send Evans over if you need?”

Rose plastered in a tight smile as she fought the urge to groan and bang her head against the door. Evans was Nicki’s grandson, she’d been trying to set Rose up ever since she’d heard that the blonde was single.

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine, Ms Spencer.”

“Alright then. I best check on the others.”

“Of course.”

Rose watched as the woman disappeared down the dark corridor. She slumped against the door, held up only by her grip on the door handle as exhaustion crashed into her like a tidal wave. It appeared her little stunt had had more of an impact on her than she’d realised. She blinked several times trying to fight back the sudden fatigue. She backed into her flat, shutting the door heavily, as her legs gave out from beneath her. Rose shook her head in a valiant attempt to clear the cobwebs from her brain. It was pointless even trying before she’d even been able to walk to the sofa she was being consumed by darkness.

“How is he?” Mickey whispered as he crept up the stairs to find his wife standing outside their son’s bedroom door.

She shook her head weakly.

“Still feverish.” She let out a huff of frustration. “I don’t get it, Mickey, physically he’s in perfect health and yet.” Her head thumps backwards against the door frame in helplessness.

“There’s got to be something. Maybe we can cal-”

“Mummy!”

The parents spun on their heels in a flurry of panic as they entered their only child’s room. Their little boy’s face was streaked with tears, he clutched at his favourite teddy bear as he sobbed. They rushed forward, Martha wrapped him up in her arms while Mickey knelt on the floor beside them.

“What’s wrong, baby? Can you tell me?”

“My head. Its too hot. And there were faces Mummy.”

“Faces? Like monsters?” Mickey asked as he rubbed his son’s knee, there was a deep pain in his chest from seeing his son so distraught but being powerless to help.

He shook his head with a whimper, his bottom lip trembling as tears continued to fall down his cheeks.

“People. There was a blonde woman with gold eyes. And others too. Daddy make it stop, please make it stop.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

And there they sat their child cocooned in blankets between them as they rocked him softly and sung lullabies, all the while they sank further and further into desperation for the fate of their child.

“Mr Smith, I need you to do a scan of Sky.”

“Of course, Sarah-Jane.” The familiar blue light scrolled slowly down Sky’s fidgeting form.

Sarah-Jane’s gaze flickered nervously between her adopted daughter and the Xylok as she awaited the verdict.

“Sarah-Jane, there appears to be an unidentifiable signal emitting from Sky’s shoulder.”

“Can you translate it?”

“Source…" The silence stretches out uncomfortably in the musky loft, falling like a blanket over its occupants. "Unknown.”

Sarah-Jane heaves a sigh of frustration. Scars don’t just appear without cause much less ones that burn to the touch. The energy required to leave a mark on its victim without using a physical presence was astronomical and almost always bad news.

“You must be able to find something?”

Sky was a mere child, whatever her start in this world, didn’t change the fact she was in Sarah-Jane’s care. Sky was her daughter.

“The signal is too deeply encrypted it will take time Sarah-Jane.”

“Thank you, Mr Smith.” She sighed.

“What do we do now, Sarah-Jane?”

“You,” She grabbed her bag off of one of the many cluttered sides. “Need to get to school. Mr Smith has nothing yet and you’re going to be late, so best not to worry about it for now."

She tried to force reassurance into her smile, and after so many years crafting clever lies it came easily. Sky nodded and headed for the door. She went to follow but that wave of unease rose back to the surface as she glanced back at the supercomputer.

She shook her head. It was probably nothing.

Astrid took the rest of the day off after discovering the scar, feigning sickness. She’d paced her apartment for hours as she’d tried to find some explanation for it but inevitably sleep claimed her and she remained clueless.

Hours turned to days, turned to a week. And nothing changed.

The scar sat on her shoulder as if it had been there for years and gave her no trouble as long as she didn’t touch it. Aside from adding a new scar to her growing collection, there were no other problems.

Well. There hadn’t been any other problems until one evening. She’d been sent home early and was enjoying a good romance novel when her shoulder starts to itch. More specifically her scar. Shuffled about on the sofa refusing to give in to the urge to scratch the bothersome itch, knowing full well how it would end. But the sensation grew, getting warmer and warmer, gradually reaching its crescendo, as her nerves felt as though they’d been set alight.

Before she could move from her spot on the sofa to grab some ice, she was being bombarded with images. A blonde woman waitressing amongst the rich. No. Wait. It’s her. But it can’t be. And yet it is. There’s two brunets, a Zocci, a couple in cowboy fancy dress and an elderly man. She sees androids designed like angels, a forklift and herself falling.

Her head spins and she fights against the inviting bliss of unconsciousness as her head is filled with another wave of images. There’s a little boy colouring in something called a police box, a young girl that reminds her of a lightning storm, two sisters that give her the chills, a young doctor who smells like the grave and a blonde that sounds like the howling of a wolf.

The whirlwind of images leaves her far more suddenly than it had started.

It takes a moment to orientate herself, but when she finally does its to find she’s slipped off of the sofa onto the floor. She pulls herself upright, desperately trying to ignore the pounding in her skull as she tries to make sense of the last minute. Who were those people? And what did they have to do with her scar?

It just didn’t make any sense.

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 7 years

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Uliuli Iwi (Part 5)

4 Years Ago.

The waves rush to meet the shore. As they recede, they take and handful of shells, rocks, and small sea animals unfortunate enough to have been resting too close. A lonely figure makes her way over the sand. The beach is unusually quiet. No splashing children nor scolding adults. No sunbathing teens nor picnicking families. Only one other person sits on the beach. She is crying out to the sea, asking it why it has taken her daughter. Her wrinkled hands are raised towards the sky as if the clouds will rain down the answers that the sea doesn’t wash up.

With nothing to really offer, the stranger walks passed the mournful elder.

For a moment, she listens as the breeze whispers through the palm trees and across the barren beach. She heads into town, intent on buying new shoes. She had been traveling without for quite some time now and her feet are growing anguished. She fears infection among other things.

The stranger walks through the village as a mere observer. Though the village is dismally quiet too. A few people are out and about trying to sell fruit or handmade jewelry. But other than that, the place is dead quiet. Azula doesn’t like it. It reminds her of the village she’d just left. The village she’d called home.

She knows this kind of silence well.

It is the silence of a plague town.

Only the daring come out and make noise. Only those who have a death wish or are already sick walk the streets. She looks at the woman selling jewelry…or the desperate.

Azula clutches the warding charm around her neck. The one she had found some time ago in a hidden place heavy with spiritual energy. She hadn’t been able to find that place again. The charm has kept her safe from disease all this time. She stares at the helpless faces in the windows. The blanks stares of those who have lost all hope. She decides that this is where she must stay. She finds a small inn with a rickety sign. ‘Vacant: at your risk’ and just below that reads, ‘village cleansing and prayer ceremony: sundown’. She notes that time down in her mind and pushes the door open. The man at the front desk is quiet. “One room.” Azula requests. The man seems to look right through her. But with absent movements he hands her a room key. “How much?” Azula asks. All he does is shake his head and she knows that his time is coming to an end.

Without another word, she looks at the number etched into the key and finds the corresponding room. She takes a look around. The place is a tight squeeze, but she didn’t have many possessions to fit in anyhow. Morbidly, she wonders if any people had died on that bed. She sets her pack down; a sleeping bag, some food, a waterskin, box of herbal remedies she had collected and mixed on the road, and a messy looking handmade bracelet. She brings the bracelet to her lips as she so often does. She carefully puts it back among her other things.

She witnessed death again that night.

She attended the ceremony after a somewhat long and taxing trip to a river some miles from the village—even with her sprit charm she couldn’t bring herself to chance washing her clothes in the village’s own river. For all she knew, it was the source of whatever illness she had yet to see.

She admitted to herself that she felt out of place among these people who knew each other so well. Once again, she sees herself as only a silent observer. She sits on a log by a growing bonfire. Mothers and fathers cling to each other and to their children, as if keeping such a close-knit embrace would leave no room for sickness to get in between.

The woman Azula can only assume is the village chief stands before everyone and thanks them for coming out. She encourages the people to keep faith and to be strong. The ritual begins and a team of mystics emerge. They dance around the fire chanting—this is how she knows that they are con-artists, taking advantage of an entire village during low times. Their chants are nonsense and have nothing to do with the spirits at all, she figures they probably made up that gibberish entirely. But she says nothing, the only thing keeping these people together his blind hope. To unveil the truth now would tear the village apart. She would show them a real mage.

She watches the offensive display reach its climax. This is where the healing is supposed to happen. But in a cruelly poetic display one of the village woman begins seizing violently. She cries out to her husband, before she is completely consumed by sickness. She sweats terribly and blood trickles from her ears and her mouth. Azula clenches her charm, she knows now that she will need its full enchantment. The woman lets out a piercing final scream accompanied by a grotesque tearing noise and then it cuts off. Azula swallows down a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding.

Apparently, the woman and her family hadn’t been hugging each other tight enough, for the illness got in, stole a life, and made a clean get away.

“What a horrible way to go.” Azula thinks to herself.

The ceremony comes to an abrupt end. People back away and flee to the safety of their homes. The more sympathetic of them nod sorrowfully in the man and child’s direction. The shamans scowled and scattered, realizing that this particular scam was much too risky. She knew in that moment, exactly who had already lost a loved one. For those were the only people who remained and helped the boy and his father close the woman’s eyes and wrap her body up. But their stares are blank too and even they don’t offer condolences. It is up to them now, to honor her in death and burn her remains.

Death has become so common here, people can no longer be bothered with formal, cultural burials.

Azula can’t help but cringe. She has seen this before as well.

She walks up to the reduced family. She knows that they acknowledge her presence, but neither look up. In a lifetime that seemed so distant now, she would have scoffed at their poor manners and proclaimed that ‘you could always leave it to the waterbenders to be so discourteous. Instead she puts a hand on the shoulder of the boy. “I can’t do much now.” She breaks the quiet. “But I can help you honor her properly. How do you do it here? A feast? A candle lighting?”

“We paint the face red and cloak them in white. We write down our favorite memory of them and tuck the scroll under their arms so they do not forget who they are in the life after. After that we hum them a traditional song to show their soul off happily.” The man replies. “You cannot write a memory down for a person you’ve never known.”

“You underestimate how little time it takes to create a memory.” Azula replies. On a scroll, she is already writing what she has seen. “You said the memory must help them remember who they are…” She holds out her scroll—in it she talks of a woman strong in nature with love and fight in her eyes, a woman who didn’t let go until the very end.

The man nods respectfully. “Thank you…”

She doesn’t give him a name to fill in. It is easier that way—when she leaves the village he won’t have a name to miss, eventually the face will fade. He will be spared more heartbreak.

“My boy. Kho-Nhm, he doesn’t talk much, but he apricates your gesture.”

“I want to help your village.” Azula says. “To give you real help. Not…whatever that was.”

“How can you do that?” He asks.

She shows him her charm. “I’ve been teaching myself to make remedies. Trial and error, of course. I’ve cured a few vagabonds and journeymen. I also know how to call the spirits.”

“So did they.”

So, he saw through the lies too. She had to respect his skeptism.

“I suppose you’ll just have to give me a chance then. The worst that can happen is another sense of false hope to keep your village together, yes?”

He looks her in the eye. “You are not like them. I can tell. At the very least, you truly believe that you can call upon the spirits. They know they cannot, and yet they claim to anyhow.” He picks Kho-Nhm up.

Azula doesn’t know how she should interpret that.

“Come back to my hut if you will, my son and I don’t want to honor Waituba alone.” He says. “You can stay with us until you rid our village of the disease.”

She drops the key off and gathers her belongings before joining them in their home. They treat her well and tell stories of Waituba and her fiery nature. The man is absolutely convinced that his wife’s attitude was what happened when you cross Fire Nation and Water Tribe blood. She finds out through these stories that his name is Kurlok. He passes around Waituba’s favorite dishes and asks if Azula is a firebender—the final step in the ceremony would be much easier that way.

“I am.” Azula answers. This time she doesn’t need to disguise her flames. She knows she is far enough from home for the brilliant blue hue to go unrecognized.

“I put my faith in the right place.” She hears the man mutter. He has come to the right conclusion, but for the wrong reason. She doesn’t correct him, she will give him a real reason to trust her healing abilities when the time comes.

They bow to the body and scatter her ashes amid the sand in their yard.

Kho-Nhm yawns, a solid reminder to both she and Kurlok that it has grown late. The night, however, isn’t done with Kurlok. His son’s legs wobble and he pitches to the left. Azula catches him before he can meet the sand. When his eyes reach hers, they are dazed and confused. She can’t bring herself to look back at Kurlok.

“Daddy, my head hurts.”

#azula #zuko #avatar the last airbender #fanfiction

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zenruption · 6 years

Text

Eminem’s “White America” gets a Revival

By Zoe Zorka, freelance writer

@zoeshrugged

With Trump’s first year in office immortalized by scandal, blunders, and numerous other controversies and Eminem preparing to headline Coachella, our nation finds itself on the cusp of a generational shift and our leader isn’t the orange buffoon sitting at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., but rather the Real Slim Shady- the unlikely voice of the millennial generation.

After all, it was only a matter of time until Eminem, known the past two decades for skewering politicians and current political dynamics, took aim at Trump (as well as many of society’s other ills), creating not a revolution, but a revival.

Revival, which is undoubtedly one of Eminem’s best albums of his career, serves as the perfect mirror for millennial America’s entrance into adulthood.

“I could be one of your kids…”

In the late 1990s and early 2000’s, millennials (who were largely teens and preteens at the time) loved Eminem, most parents hated him. After all, even he touted his ideas as “nightmares to white parents.”

He was the media’s dream come true.

Just like Trump.

This isn’t Trump’s reality show.

This is The Eminem Show. All grown up.

“Now how the f*** did this metamorphosis happen?”

In order to understand where we are now, it’s crucial to understand that we got to this point long before the Republican primaries in 2016.

Following one of the biggest upsets in history, political pundits and talking heads pondered the following:

How did Clinton not swiftly capture our millennial vote? (We love Jay-Z!)

How did she not capture the vote of our parents, the baby boomers? (They love Medicare!)

The answer is simple: The millenials, Eminem’s “White America,” came of age.

(In this context, it’s important to note that Eminem’s “White America,” is strictly a reference to the 2002 hit song off The Eminem Show album, and has far less to do with race than it does with relating to disenfranchised millenials, most of us whom were teenagers or pre-teens when the album came out as Eminem’s broad, cross-cultural appeal to “anyone who’s ever been through s*** in their lives” largely resonated with middle-class urban and suburban kids across every race, religion, and socioeconomic demographic. )

“Little hellions, kids feeling rebellious…”

While perhaps misguided, Trump succeeded in pushing “this generation of kids to stand and fight for the right to say something you might not like.”

And he appealed to our parents’ sense of frugality and paternal dependence, thus winning the two largest voting blocks.

If Eminem, who has been simultaneously both a reflection of our generation as well as a motivating factor, was so accurately able to capture the attention of America’s youth (which he obviously did as the album sold over 10 million copies), it should come as no surprise that our generation would grow up and carry those messages and values into our adulthood. Essentially, our generation still has a lot of “anger aimed in no particular direction that just sprays and sprays.”

In a recent interview with The Atlantic, Alan Jacobs, author of How to Think, argues that “the primary fault of the right at this moment in America is wrath,” a dynamic evidenced on social media and in the comments section of any major news article on any given day.

Carly Holman of Conservative Review hit the nail on the head when she wrote that “Trump is the Eminem candidate. Like the rapper, Trump is explicit, vulgar, and unapologetic. He’s anti-PC and he’s anti-elitism. Both Trump and Eminem have endured the intense backlash of liberal elites.”

Legally, us millennials are adults, but emotionally, many of us are stuck in a perpetual state of blissful, delayed adolescence. We’re figurative teenagers who were, and still are, both simultaneously dependent on, and despondent of, our parents and other authority figures.

The candidates understood this dynamic, and the angst that accompanies it, and turned our electorate into a family with two divorced parents going to divorce court on the national stage. Us kids just had to choose: mom or dad.

In “Cleaning Out My Closet” (also on The Eminem Show), Eminem embodied this millennial dichotomy, blowing off “tempers flaring from parents” while simultaneously singing a song written entirely about his mother, a woman who he was clearly codependent on- to at least some extent.

Trump further capitalized on this contradiction by singing “for these kids who don’t have a thing” as he “lit a fire up under [America’s collective] a**” by providing an outlet to rebel against our surrogate helicopter parents (the government, big corporations), but still promising to be the dad who would be there when someone tried to hurt us.

After all, even Eminem has devoted a fair amount of lyrics to the importance of being a good father and the impact that a fatherless existence had on his upbringing.

“Have you ever been hated or discriminated against?”

Just as with most of his music, Eminem consciously (and subconsciously) appealed to listeners’ feelings of being a victim, because let’s face it- everyone has been judged to some extent. In the 2016 election, both candidates played into the idea that everyone is a victim- many times they reinforced the belief that “it” (whatever it is) is someone else's fault.

As millennials, we were the test tube babies of the anti-bullying movement. At school, teachers and administrators would ask the offender to change their behavior rather than for us to handle it on our own. At home, our parents told us to stand up for ourselves and to hit back (literally or figuratively) in order to earn respect. Eminem called enemies “a maltese” while he was “a pit bull off his leash,” the same moral ideology touted by Trump with regard to pretty much all of his policies.

“You’re getting older now…”

In the end, millennials chose to live with dad because, according to Dan Zak of the Washington Post, we have some daddy issues stemming from the fact that our first experience with governance is our family unit. A parent is in charge, and traditionally, it’s Dad.

Many in our generation voted for who we thought would parent us best while our parents voted who they thought would be the best parent and look after their wayward brood of children.

Many baby boomers seemed to want a father who would take care of the kids once he was gone. Ellen Kaufman, 56, called Donald Trump “the strict dad that America needs.”

Trump gave voters both those things, mirroring the familiar family dynamics that many millennials still pine for while at the same time, promising our parents that he’d care for his kids, the American population, if they were to die.

“Like Home"

With an unprecedented amount of coverage, the reaction to Revival symbolizes much more than a protest against the current administration. It’s the symbolic passing of a generational torch and more importantly, the need for us millennials to start acting like adults.

This is the perfect chance for the strongest of our generation to emerge from the chaos and do this the right way.

Almost two decades ago, he gave respect to the first amendment and “the women and men who broke their necks for the freedom of speech this democracy of hypocrisy is sworn to uphold.”

Back when we were kids, the freedom of speech seemed like a ubiquitous concept, something foreign to many of us or an ancient relic of the protests of our parents’ generation.

Today, we have that power, but too many of us have no idea how to use it, not realizing that ideas and criticism of the current administration or social dynamics is not an affront against America, but rather an important part of progress.

In “Like Home,” Eminem sings: “But you ain't ruining our country, punk, or takin' our pride from us/you won't define us/cause like a dictionary, things are looking up/so much, got a sprained neck/know we will rise up/so hands in the air, let's hear it for the start of a brand new America,” a unifying call to reject not America, but the toxic ideas that have become far too prevalent in today’s anger culture.

As leaders of our generation, we can’t be afraid of the freedom of speech, but we also must know how to use it wisely. Repeating rhetoric, sharing simpleminded views, and stirring the pot simply for the sake of attention and/or our peers’ and elders’ approval (or disapproval) is not the way to do that.

The question is: which of us are going to step up and be adults? Who among us will the voice to inspire the next generation of kids and get them to pay attention?

“America, we love you….”

But we do need a line in the sand as Eminem pointed out in his BET freestyle video.

Which of us in the “White America” generation are willing to draw a line in the sand? Who among us is enlightened enough to know that the line isn’t necessarily against just a man, but also against ignorance, racism, divisiveness, and the other ills plaguing our nation?

Racism and hatred on life support and our generation needs to be the one who pulls the plug.

Eminem ends both “White America” and Revival stating his support for the nation as a whole, giving a glimmer of hope during two turbulent times in our nation’s history.

After all, we owe it to the next generation to give them a better America than we had, a sentiment best summed up by Eminem while waxing philosophical on the potential of a draft (a fear among young adults in 2002):

“You’re just a baby, getting recruited at 18….I’m 28, they’re gonna take you before they take me.”

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twistednuns · 6 years

Text

October 2017

On German Unity Day I made creamy mushroom pasta for breakfast. It was such a lovely, gloomy autumn day. I woke up early, it was still dark, so I started cleaning, organising, cooking, had a good internet reading session, made some tea. Cozy. And I started working on my project again: for years now I've been crocheting a granny square blanket. So far it's a baby blanket at best but I've frogged / undone a big piece of knitting I had done for a cardigan (which I've obviously never finished) and rolled a huge ball of yarn. It must weigh about half a kilo.

Jennifer Egan talking about books. She shares my notion: “In the moment of choosing, I tend to go with whatever I’m craving most. Reading is a lot like eating for me: If I try to read a book I’m not hungry for, I won’t enjoy it, but if I wait until I have a real appetite for something, I’ll devour it.”

A little IKEA spending spree (looking at you here, Ypperlig collection - even though I returned the table and the shelves a few days later). I'm also thinking about a new wall colour - which means I'm photoshopping different hues on cellphone pictures. So far, a cold, dark green is my favourite but everyone keeps saying it's too dark.

Something to look forward to: according to Susan Miller, October 26th will be the luckiest day of the year.

Cleaning my car. What a difference it makes on my mental state when I have my surroundings in order. It never fails to amaze me. I'm more creative, I have more energy, I'm much better at tackling tasks.

Watching old pictures and videos from our holidays together. Queen Yogurtha the 26th must have slipped my mind... Hilarious though. We've vowed to take more videos from now on and cut together an annual movie. It's so much more fun than photographs. I also looked at some old pictures of Cleo... gosh, I miss him. I think I need a cat in my life to be truly happy.

Spending time with Markus. Watching Disney movies, watching him drink his prosecco with a pink straw. Frank calls him my perfect gay best friend - with benefits.

Sexy dreams: flying to New York, seeing Disneyland (?) and Manhattan from the plane. Just to spend the weekend in a fancy hotel room with a vaguely familiar dude (Roli? Tom?) / A guy looking like Ville Vallo, up in Denmark, who was supposed to be my uncle. / A classroom, a vocabulary test. Helpless me, unruly students. A man who simply stated "I know you want me" and kissed me. Stuff like that drives me crazy.

The painting "Champagne Breakfast" by Nick Alm.

Adding orange juice to roasted oven veggies. Making pumpkin soup an thai curry. Playing kitchen goddess. Preparing meals for the freezer, turning my trusted banana bread recipe into muffins, obsessing over homemade semolina pudding - it's one of the quickest, easiest and most satisfying desserts to make. I've tried it with apple and cinnamon, mango-passion fruit, kiwi, banana and lemon zest so far. Now that we're already at it: take some free fridge porn!

Reconnecting with Frank. We hadn't seen each other for almost three months and actually there wasn't much to say or catch up on. But it somehow just feels right to have him in my life. However difficult our relationship might be, I feel like something is missing without him.

Shopping at VollCorner: "Kommt ein Karótchen in Frage?" (awesome accent, mate)

Ewan McGregor as Curt Wild in Velvet Goldmine (1998) - almost licking the mic on stage, sprinkling himself with gold glitter and pretending to jerk it off into the audience, mooning everyone, wearing eyeliner and nail polish... it's supposed to be a homage to Iggy Pop - a very good one indeed. I mean, just look at him. And then we see Brian Slade falling in love with him, quietly, slowly. What a tender - and highly erotic - moment of film history. Thank you for this, Todd Haynes. Long haired dudes are my weak spot. Oh, and have I mentioned that Toni Collette is in the movie, too? Can it get any better?

Erin Timony's Goodnight Moon videos. Escpecially the Babblebrook playlist. So soothing. I love her sweet face and her personality. Not to mention her voice.

Smelling the fresh coffee beans through the little holes in the Tchibo coffee bags at the supermarket. Always lifts my mood.

This new fabric softener I have smells gorgeous. I can't stop sniffing my towels and pillow cases.

An afternoon at Hofgarten, playing Wikingerschach with Julia, Franzi, Ralf, Frank and Lena (who made zucchini-fennel pizza for us!) - drinking cider and prosecco, enjoying the gorgeous weather, having to explain the rules to some other guys playing boule behind us. Franzi's white blouse with lobster embroidery. One of the nicest Saturdays this year.

Oh, Dory. After keeping my distance for a few months we had some quite intense moments again in the last weeks. I wonder if I'm the only one who feels that way. I made thai tea ice-cream, we shared pictures of (cats in) our apartments and found out the we both love Ewan McGregor and Von Wegen Lisbeth. Oh, and she cut my hair.

Doris: "Du bist ein Falco-Song!"

Learning about Baba Yaga. A house on chicken feet? Interesting. Just like flying around in a mortar...

A neck and shoulder massage at the Thai massage place - at least during the massage, it was so relaxing and nice. Afterwards my back was sore as fuck.

The Babylon Berlin screening at Seriencamp was quite impressive. Especially the theme song by Severija Janušauskaitė. I loved that concert scene.

"Du oder keine!"

I just realised what amazing friends I have who will readily accept any kind of weird life choice I'll make. They might raise an eyebrow but they'll embrace it because the know and love me.

Also, I have to point out again how much I love spending time with my journalist friends. I can make a reference to pretty much any (pop-)cultural phenomenon, talk about all the movies, series and actors, use fancy words and they'll still know what I'm talking about!

Monotypes by Renée Gouin.

Cold, starry autumn nights, preferably after a storm.

The Born to Rock Halloween party!

Watching Andi Zeisler, the founder of Bitch Media in Portland, speak about feminism as a popcultural phenomenon after my first real date with a woman.

#october #2017 #october 2017 #personal #present perfect #things i love

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aeyemenethes-blog · 7 years

Text

Lathbora viran Ch. 10

Here's the next chapter of Lathbora viran. It can also be found on AO3 at http://archiveofourown.org/works/10213937/chapters/24206559. Enjoy!

Setting foot on Tarasyl’an Te’las’ soil again after the incident made me kneel, and place my head on the cool ground. I whispered a prayer to all my kin that lived and died in this fortress. My fortress.

Aly’xin…falon… Ir abelas… I failed you.

The energies were rife and claustrophobic, with the Veil feeling extremely thin here as this fortress was the place of its origins. Giving a brief moment of silence to respect those who passed, I stood up to re-join the survivors of the Inquisition. The fortress was theirs now.

Everyone surrounded the massive, stone staircase leading up to the fortress’ heart, and watched as a smaller group of three people stood deep in conversation. Drawing closer to lean against a tree near the back of the crowd, I noticed Leliana holding a rather impressive sword that appeared more for decoration though I imagined it could be wielded in battle. Cassandra was next to the Herald speaking and gesturing to this sword, and Ellana furrowed her brow with a hint of fear reflecting from her cloudy blue eyes.

Ellana glanced out into the crowd and raised up the massive sword, staring intensely at its blade. While almost unimpressive, I did notice the polished metal cross guard shaped to look like the open mouth of a High Dragon.

“Have our people been told?” Cassandra asked in a voice well-rehearsed in the words.

Up front, Ambassador Josephine stepped forward to deliver an answer. “They have. And soon the world.”

Following what I can only assume was a written ceremony, Cassandra called out a second time. “Commander, will they follow?”

Cullen turned to address the crowd assembled behind him. “Inquisition! Will you follow?”

A rallying cry went up from all, save perhaps me. Instead, I hugged the shadows and watched the Herald’s face. Complexity, touched with a hint of doubt, spoke along the delicate lines of her face. She felt overwhelmed by it all, and who could blame her?

“Will you fight?” Cullen shouted and raised his arms to be heard over the crow. “Will we triumph?”

And still they almost drowned him out. My ears twitched from the noise amplification and sensitivity that my race was both cursed and blessed with. Some more soothing activity was called for after this was finished.

“Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!” Cullen unsheathed his sword and pointed it up to Ellana.

With the proclamation and praise from the crowd, the Herald flushed then raised the sword she held higher. I watched a little longer unable to keep the smile, and worry, from my face. In achieving so much, she now sacrificed more than she realized. When I looked at her I noticed a younger version of myself.

Like me, Lethallan, you now walk a dark path…one destined to erase your face.

Turning back toward the fortress, I went to secure my new quarters; not the bedroom in the tower that once was mine, but somewhere near the old library. Rotting wooden beams, most of which once supported parts of the roof, cluttered around brittle blocks of stone. Nesting animals poked their heads out of their burrows, hearing the hollow echo of my feet as I moved past them. Tattered remains of whatever heraldry banners hung from Skyhold’s previous residence still fluttered near the dirt smudged, stained-glass windows; what windows were still intact.

Walking through the skeletal structure wrenched my heart remembering happier days. Scents of mould and neglect settled in the stagnant air as I tiptoed through the rubble in search for the correct door. When I found it, I pulled it open, wincing at the rusty squeak from the hinges, and entered. The rotunda was at the lowest level of the tallest tower in the fortress with stairs spiralling upward into the library full to the brim with tomes, and ascending further until it stopped in the crow’s nest. I ran my palm along the compacted mud walls of the rotunda and breathed in the earthy soil.

“Perfect.” I whispered and set out to unpack my belongings, including the rolled up wolf skins and jars of herbal paints.

Once I setup the earthenware bowl full of water, my horsehair brushes and uncorked my paints, I outlined the murals I planned to decorate across my new bedroom walls. Scattered on the wooden desk in the center of the room were illustrations I intended to transfer onto my new blank canvas. Pulling off my tunic and folding it on my chair, I climbed the ladder to begin my work on alleviating my headache.

. . .

“Oh wow! By the Creators! You proclaim you aren’t Dalish, but I’ve seen ancient paintings done in a similar technique on many of our people’s ruins.”

I turned my head to the side and gave Ellana a small smile. “This technique is much older than the Dalish. It started in Arlathan with the Elvhen and I happened upon it during a trip in the Fade.”

“They’re beautiful…I’d be interested in hearing your opinions on elven culture.” She asked as I climbed down the ladder.

Walking to the desk, I rinsed my brushes in the bowl of water as well as a dampened cloth that I proceeded to swipe along my chest and face to clean the paint splotches. “I thought you would be more interested in sharing your opinions of elven culture. You are Dalish, are you not?”

At my question, Ellana straightened and jutted out her chin, but I noticed the scarlet on the apples of her cheeks as her eyes lingered a bit longer on my muscled abdomen. “Yes. I am. The Dalish are the best hope for preserving the culture of our people.”

I sighed and shook my head. Of course the arrogance spread to her as well even if she was such a striking creature. Your arrogance and ignorance blinds you to the truth. “Our people. You use that phrase so casually. It should mean more…But the Dalish have forgotten that.” I clipped feeling a press of annoyance against my temples. “Among other things.”

Why can’t you see what’s missing and search for the answers…your passion is too hungry to just accept what the Dalish speculate at as absolute fact!

A spark ignited in Ellana’s eyes, informing me that I just opened up a can of worms. “Oh, but you know the truth right?”

I lived it… “While they pass on stories, mangling details, I walk the Fade. I have seen things they have not.” I braced myself against the lashing I would undoubtedly receive.

She gritted her teeth and cocked her hip, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine. You think we’re terrible. What about the Alienages full of elves who aren’t Dalish?”

I scoffed. Here we go again! If I don’t agree with the Dalish, I must sympathize with the Elves whose knowledge of my people would barely fit a thimble! Typical! “Why? What would it benefit some poor man in a Ferelden Alienage to learn that his Ancestors strode the land like gods?” I clenched my fist, forcing my tone to remain calm and collected despite seething inside. “It would only make him bitter, or inspire him to take a foolish risk and get himself killed.”

“You’ve decided his reaction for him.” Ellana accused, keeping her voice equally as calm, belying the rage simmering behind those beautiful eyes.

Sighing, I relaxed my rigid posture, relieving the tension built up in my muscles from both the painting and this disagreement. This arguing is getting us nowhere and she’s not just any Dalish woman… “Perhaps I have. If you have questions and believe the answers will help, ask.”

Surprising me, Ellana also relaxed, her fingers even running over the wood grain of the table, worn smooth from millennia of use, and her gaze traveling over the parchments of paintings. When her eyes met mine again, curiosity replaced hatred and anger, and when she spoke, her voice was just as soft. “I’d like to know more about the elves from before our time.”

Tread Carefully, Solas...

“The Dalish strive to remember Halamshiral, but Halamshiral was merely a fumbling attempt to recreate a forgotten land.”

“Arlathan.” She answered immediately, and I nodded, but she wasn’t completely correct.

“Elvhenan was the Empire, and Arlathan its greatest city. A place of magic and beauty, lost in time.” Even now I recalled the elegant, hand-carved bridges and pristine, white washed walls, spiralling throughout massive, imposing trees. Magical runes of protection and prosperity glistened as beacons cast onto all the inhabitants, and I could feel its electric energy wherever I walked. Magic flowed natural and undisturbed by the ignorant louts of our present who were too afraid of the mysteries of the world that they’d rather ban it than study the very fabric of what created Thedas. These trees grew bore the sweetest fruits so none would walk the vendors hungry, and its people – vendors and citizens alike – wore clothing that would make an Orlesian green with envy. Yet we never wore masks. There was no need to hide our character.

Such crisp imagery came back to me, and I felt as if every breath I took refreshed my memory. For a moment, I walked its present rather than its past. Oh, how I missed those times…but it had to be done.

“You’ve studied ancient Elves. What else do you know of Arlathan?”

Oh how I love her inquisitive nature! Dangerous. Attractive.

“We hear stories of them living in trees and imagine wooden ramps or Dalish Aravels. Imagine instead spires of crystal twining through the branches, Palaces floating among the clouds. Imagine beings who lived forever, for whom magic was as natural as breathing. That is what was lost.” Keeping my answers vague would continue the ruse that I only knew what I saw in the Fade.

Wonder grew in her eyes, but she just shook her head and plucked at the edge of my desk, killing whatever question she formed in her mind. A slight smile pursed her lips and she slowly skirted around the walls, scanning what murals I began with narrowed eyes. I wondered if maybe she was going to ask me the meaning behind the paintings or maybe inquire more about the ancient technique I used. I watched her, careful to keep the muscles in my face neutral and relaxed.

Her delicate fingers would reach out occasionally, begging to touch the fresh paint, but ultimately pulled back to continue her stroll with hands clasped tight behind her back. Her tongue wet her plump bottom lip, and she mouthed unspoken words. Curious warmth boiled along my body, and I distracted myself with shuffling my parchment in order and corking the various paints.

“Are all Dalish Elves like my Clan?” Ellana finally asked, stopping a foot behind me.

I shivered, feeling her heat invading me. Creators! Does she even know what she does to me? Focus on the question! “No. Your Clan was unique in having enough interest in human affairs to send you to spy upon the Divine’s meeting. As your Clans have been separate for so long, they have all changed, adapting to the lands in which they live.”

And take me in for a time…without hostilities until I started showing intimate interest in you…

“Some are no more than bandits, others trade feely with humans, and some have disappeared entirely into the forest.” I added, disgusted about other outcomes that I didn’t go into. Slavery. Seclusion. Cannibalism. Just to name a few.

She nodded. “What can you tell me about Elves living in human cities?”

Chuckling, I sat down in my plush chair and stretched my legs out under the desk. Gesturing for her to do the same toward the white couch in the room, I devised an answer to sate her question. “The culture in Alienages or among the slaves of Tevinter is like any of the impoverished and powerless. They cling to memories of a better past and practice a few rituals to distinguish themselves from humans.”

Sorrow filled her eyes, but she did sit down, letting her head fall in her hands for a moment. I wished I could read her mind. I hated seeing the distress that painted her features so clearly as my answer settled. Then, he lifted her head and gave me a hollow smile.

“Is the magic they teach in the Circle different from the magic I learned with my people?”

In actuality, the magic taught by both groups is fragmented and a perverse version of true magic. Like the difference of drinking wine versus drinking watered down wine. It is still wine but its effects are muted and leaves you wanting.

Aloud, I gave another answer. “No and yes. Magic is magic, just as water is water, but it can be used in different ways. Dalish magic is more practical, not needing Chantry approval. Although they still frown on Blood Magic. Superstition. Much of it is more subtle. A legacy from when Elves were Immortal.”

The last part made her straighten in her sitting position. “The legends of Elven Immortality…did they use magic to increase their lifespan?”

“No.” I stated firmly. I am the living embodiment of this legend, and it was my cruel, but necessary act that ended it all for the Elves. “It was simply part of being Elven. The subtle beauty of their magic was the effect, not the cause, of their nature. Some spells took years to cast. Echoes would linger for centuries, harmonizing with new magic in an unending symphony. It must’ve been beautiful…”

Silence took over the room and I didn’t push Ellana. Truth was, I enjoyed being here with her, and answering her questions. I watched as a kaleidoscope of colours painted her face, and how she furrowed her brow or wrinkled her small nose. My heart swelled in knowing that I placed these manifestations on her features and in her mind.

“You said that the censure against Blood Magic was superstition.” She eventually asked, pinching her brow.

“I did.” I replied with a smile and leaned across the table with my elbows propped up. “It’s fortunate Cassandra is not within earshot. Most modern cultures forbid Blood Magic. Publicly, even Tevinter disapproves of it. But as I said, magic is magic. It matters only in how it is used.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “I’d be interested in learning more about Blood Magic.”

Healthy curiosity! “I would teach you, if I knew it. Unfortunately, using Blood Magic seems to make it more difficult to enter the Fade. You understand why I have never bothered to learn it. A shame. As it is extremely powerful. Provided it remains a tool, not a crutch…nor a passion.”

“Thank you, Solas. We’ll talk more later. At dinner, perhaps.” Ellana stood and gave me a smile before walking out with one more glance at my half done murals, and my naked torso.

. . .

Dinner was spent in the main hall of the Inquisition once enough rubble was cleared away to get a large wooden table inside with space for most of the key members of the Inquisition. When I entered – after cleaning up from the rest of the day spent painting, Ellana stood and waved me over to sit beside her. Food followed shortly and rowdy conversation. I added comments here and there when they seemed appropriate, but for the most part, I observed in silence. In truth, I didn’t have much in common with any of the members save maybe the Inquisitor, herself.

At least Sera and Dorian were loud enough to draw most of the attention. Varric and the Iron Bull sat next to each other exchanging stories, and possibly bets, judging by the casual glances they threw to various members. When their wandering eyes settled on me, I just raised an eyebrow and returned to the scroll I had been reading. They chuckled not long after.

Then, Ellana stood up and I felt an arc of electricity pass along in the movement. A hand touched my shoulder drawing my eyes up to gaze into hers. Raw intent flared in those orbs and a hunger that my earlier answers to her questions didn’t suppress. “I’m interested in what you told me of yourself and your studies. If you have time, I’d like to hear more.”

All noise stopped and heads turned to stare at the two of us. I felt their invasive smirks, wondering what was transpiring between us. If Ellana noticed, she showed no shame in what gossip her actions would no doubt create. I settled back in my chair and dabbed my mouth with my napkin. I wanted to talk to her more as well… just not with a crowd.

“You continue to surprise me.” I kept my voice purposely low and noticed – out of the corner of my eye – many of the Inquisition members leaned forward in their chairs to catch what I said to her. “All right, let us talk…preferably somewhere more interesting than this.”

I stood up then and brought her into my chambers trying to ignore the snickering from the other member as we left. I offered her some wine as an after dinner dessert and waited for her to nod off from the sleeping draft I mixed in with it. Gathering her up in my arms, I carried her through a secret passage that led straight up to her room where I tucked her into bed. I touched her cheek and smiled before disappearing to take my own draft and meet her in the Fade.

. . .

The vibrancy of Haven hit me as we both took the steps toward the Chantry. Instinctively, I glanced back to make sure Ellana still followed. It was amazing that she was even here at all. When I gave her the sleeping draft, I hadn’t expected that she would meet me here so easily, which made me smile all the more. She was brilliant and talented and…beautiful. My heart pounded, threatening to burst out of my chest, at how much she already did and the possibilities laid out before her. She almost felt like a kindred spirit, especially in the Fade.

“Why here?” Ellana asked, sweeping her gaze over at an intact Haven.

I stopped and gestured, before moving on. “Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you.”

She sighed deeply and shook her head. “We talked about that already.”

She thinks I’m leading her in a merry chase; never fully answering her questions. Clever girl.

We made our way down into the Chantry’s dark dungeons and a wave of the first night returned. I shivered thinking about how we came full circle.

“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the Anchor.”

I heard her giggle. “How long can it take to look at a mark on my hand?”

Smiling, I turned and shrugged. “A magical mark of unknown origin, tied to a unique Breach in the Veil? Longer than you might think. I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade, yet found nothing.”

I remembered that night so clearly, back when the Seeker hauled me to her with all her fury. “Cassandra suspected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.”

To my surprise, and delight, Ellana nodded. “Cassandra’s like that with everyone.”

Curls of Fade whipped around the elven mage, dancing as little sprites and flowed both in and out of the Anchor. So much pulled at my spirit surrounded in such an intimate space with a woman who caused my heart to flutter. Even with those words, a warmth spread over me.

I chuckled. “Yes.”

Then I gestured for Ellana to follow me as we left the Chantry. My fingers caught her own and I blushed, my nerves ignited and my head softly spinning. Once outside the Chantry, I thought of distractions and went back to telling my story. With any luck, the elven lass wouldn’t pick up on my hesitation.

“You were never going to wake up. How could you, a mortal sent physically through the Fade?” We stopped and faced one another as I divulged my feelings to answer her question about myself. “I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach.”

Memories of that night flooded through me; of how my dream walking had been interrupted and I was dispelled from the Fade. The Explosion was at the core, the fault, but I wouldn’t hold the Inquisitor responsible.

“Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra…or she in me. I was ready to flee.”

Possibly confront Corypheus and snatch back my orb…somehow.

Ellana blinked and gazed at me skeptically. “The Breach threatened the whole world. Where did you plan to go?”

To the Conclave… to stop Corypheus or die trying.

I shrugged. “Someplace far away where I might research a way to repair the Breach before its effects reached me. I never said it was a good place.”

Smiling, I turned to stare up at the memory of the green Breach the Fade had recreated and stretched out my hand as if I perhaps had the Anchor etched inside my palm. “I told myself, one more attempt to seal the Rifts. I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them.”

The Breach flashed and danced in its powerful, vibrant magic that used to belong to me. Such beauty turned into a dreadful darkness and I knew I was at fault. I stared deep at the swirling vortex almost mesmerized. “I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then…”

Images of holding Ellana’s soft, delicate hand as I raised her arm to close the rift with the Anchor, imprinted in my mind. The heat and rapid heartbeat returned with a ferocity I could no longer deny, even if I tried. Turning, I looked deep into Ellana’s lovely, blue eyes and breathed in her combined scent of femininity and sandalwood that the Fade recreated.

“It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture…and right then, I felt the whole world change.” Revolving around you, I finished to myself. Ellana’s expression softened and she shifted her weight from one leg to the next, her eyes telling me she longed to reach out. “Felt the whole world change?”

“A figure of speech.” I added.

“I’m aware of the metaphor. I’m more interested in ‘felt.’”

Fenedhis…nothing gets passed her.

Do you really want it to, Solas? The Wolf’s voice, silent for most of the day, chose to speak up now.

I sighed in defeat. No, not really.

She closed in and I gasped, my own features softening, and my mask dropping. “You change…everything.”

“Sweet talker.” Ellana muttered.

I looked away then felt her hand touch the back of my neck and pulled me around. Before I could register, those soft, full lips found mind. Blood pooled down my spine, settling into my groin to harden it. The kiss was brief as she pulled away with an embarrassed flush on her face, but I shook my head. Inside the Wolf growled just as hungry as me. As she turned away, I turned her around and kissed her again. Fierce. Desperate.

She tasted of honeyed-tea and wine. Her lips melted as butter against mine and she sighed into me. I wanted more. My tongue flicked intrusively at her teeth, and she parted them ever so slightly to invite that curiosity inside. She sucked and nibbled at my tender skin, her own tongue dancing along mine. With every new thrust from our tongues, I glorified in the electricity shooting through me body.

It took me back to the nights spent in the deep forest, stealing quiet moments just to drink in each other’s presence. These memories drove me into madness every night I lay without her in my arms and I slid my hands around her petite waist, traveling lower to cup her round ass.

Ellana’s hands explored the contours of my body, tracing each hard plane of muscle with her fingers. Those hands were far from innocent and every path they trailed pulled up the flesh underneath my tunic. A fire burned through me and I moaned in her mouth. Before I could contain my want, I pressed myself flat against her, rubbed my angry erection along her inner thigh. Ellana moaned and formed her body around mine.

The flames were consuming me, threatening to execute my good judgement faster than anything Cassandra threw at me. I want you. Need you!

Just let go, Solas.

No! I can’t…

Reluctantly, I pulled away, shaking my head. Ellana stared back at me with pink lips so swollen from our erotic dance and I saw wild lust staring back at me. I shook my head and slated my lips to hers once more for a simple, chaste kiss that was anything but. When I broke it for a second time, I took a few steps back to separate us and the growing desires.

“We shouldn’t. It isn’t right. Not even here.”

Are you so sure about that?

Thankfully, though her face held clear disappointment, Ellana didn’t reach for me. She didn’t try to pursue further, but it was so hard to ignore the hurt and confusion in her eyes. Little did she know, how close she came to undoing me.

“What do you mean, ‘even here?’”

I took the opportunity to end this before it escalated into sex… and it would if I didn’t leave now. “Where did you think we were?”

As if noticing that Haven was intact, and whole for the first time, Ellana turned her head like she was truly seeing it for the first time. “This isn’t real.”

A cool wind blew, trying hard to extinguish a fire that never could truly be stifled. Even after the passing of time and space. I was starting to see the true danger that Ellana Lavellan possessed to my plans and…myself. Still, I focused on answering her questions. At least by actively doing so held off the need to rip our clothing from us and fuck until our bodies grew limp from exertion.

“That’s a matter of debate…probably best discussed after you wake up.”

#Solas #solas romance #solas x lavellan #solavellan #solavallen #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #amwriting #writing #writers #fanfic #romance #elves

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