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lucky-clover-gazette · 1 year

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For the ask meme: Vio and 7, bc while I know you like the ship, I'm curious about the characters individually!

7- What do you like most about this character?

warning i went on an entire meta philosophical Thought Journey with this one and you will literally be able to SEE where it went off the rails. and then it just continued going off the rails until the rails disappeared from my field of vision and i have no idea if anything i wrote actually makes sense but here just take it

honestly i think part of why I love vio so much as a character is i did NOT expect to like or care about him, and then he ended up easily my favorite. the only thing i knew when i picked up the manga was that i would probably enjoy shadow as a character, which. of course i did. bc he's a very specific flavor of character i always gravitate towards, but vio was like... girl what? why are you in this story and doing the things you are doing? and by the end of my first reading i was just BLOWN AWAY by him and shadow and their entire subplot so i went to tumblr because i felt like i was hallucinating it and here we are now.

re: what i like most about vio... i go into it a lot in this post. vio is fascinating to me as a character from several perspectives, as a writer, a gay person, and just... having the philosophy and experiences that i do. there is such an inherent tragedy to his character that i don't think is lost on the authors--like i say in the post, shadow and vio both don't quite feel like they BELONG in this story, especially with how it ends.

like, i often write vio in particular struggling with the ways he deviates from the narrative set for him, both in canon and out of it. yes a lot of that is tied to queerness, but it also relates to themes of self-determination sub-textually tied to his arc. vio seriously just does whatever the hell he wants a good amount of the time, to like an eyebrow-raising degree. when he separates from the others and joins shadow he's on the Side of Good from the start, but i think he also realizes very quickly that there's more to himself than he'd expected. that doing what he had planned to do, especially to shadow of all people, was going to be shockingly difficult, and perhaps not even the correct choice at all. which is why vio's canon ending kind of falls flat to me, even though i can't imagine it could have ended any other way. this isn't to say he shouldn't have tried to betray shadow--it's an internal conflict he's going through, and a character usually makes the choice antithetical to what actually fuck i just boiled it down to the essentials i know exactly and fundamentally why i like vio as a character holy shit okay

SO normally a character in a story will start out Wanting something and Needing something else, and their entire arc is realizing, "aw beans, my Want actually sucks, i Need my Need" and then they pursue that instead. hero's journey etc.

think about the general premise of vio, and to an extent the other three: character is given individual consciousness to serve a specific noble purpose, and then cease to exist once said purpose has been served. and with the others, that's basically it, minor emotional and relationship arcs aside. but with vio? the premise GOES somewhere. oh no! character finds themselves drawn to the dark side by a "tempting" "evil" person or force, who CORRUPTS them into THINKING they WANT to defy that destiny! that they should be selfish, and bad, and turn their back on what they actually Need to do. so says the narrative, the character NEEDS to accept that they're not meant for anything but being used and discarded, because that's what good people do, and these are the Sacrifices We Must Make to Be Good. does your hero have any kind of unconventional or deviant leanings? well either that shit's getting straightened the hell out, or they are going to perish to save the Pure Good Guys, because that's all they deserve. that is a very common way to handle's vio's exact sort of character premise, and at first glance at the manga, one could argue that it's no exception. link still reforms, after all. arguably this kind of happens with shadow, but i think i like his ending a lot more outside of the shipping context. it says something more nuanced than above, but this isn't the post for going into that.

i would argue that almost every fiber of this manga pertaining to vio is actually trying to do the opposite of what i described above, even though it never is able to come to fruition.

quite simply, compared to the typical Needs and Wants of a corrupted hero type, vio's are like subverted. he's given a corruption arc, and it looks pretty basic at first, but it quickly becomes so... unconventional? and fun? and, dare i say, queer? i say it lot in reference to his whole turn of character once he joins shadow, but vio commits to the bit way more than is necessary to carry out his plan. shadow's not that perceptive and vio didn't need to be so close with him, so snarky and clearly enjoying himself, so bizarrely extra and innovative with the means by which he psychologically tortures his friends. his internal conflict, especially towards the end of his villain era, is less "i'm miserable because i'm a good guy and i want to save the world but i HAVE to pretend to be evil and like shadow," and more "i'm miserable because i'm actually enjoying a lot of these villainous theatrics and also i have become genuinely endeared to shadow, but i know i HAVE to betray him and rejoin the others because the world needs to be saved." i don't think it's a reach to say that that's what vio's conflict is, in the text. we see it in his expressions, his dialogue, and his reactions to things that happen.

i think this whole subversion was something the authors did with his character, whether accidentally or purposefully, REALIZED they did with his character, and didn't want to give up. but still, the story needed to end with vio rejoining the others and reforming the hero, because like. duh, of course it does, nintendo and source material and all that. but with the way a himekawa built up their obvious faves' (vio and shadow's) stories, it's like well shit, we came up with something we love but we can't really see it through. because within this brilliant subversion of the typical corrupted hero arc, the WANT is vio's sense of obligation to turn on shadow, reform link, etc, and his NEED is to say, "hey fuck this actually, i deserve to be a person and have relationships and do things i enjoy, and that doesn't make me any less of a hero. i'm smart and resourceful and there's definitely a way to both save the world and preserve who i am and get through to shadow."

self-sacrifice isn't inherently heroism. in fiction, it's often a deeply shallow and underwhelming resolution, especially when the character spends so much time growing and becoming who they truly are. i didn't grow up with religion, but i have a slight suspicion it plays a huge part in this entire attitude, and it sucks how much that permeates into media culture. doing good isn't something you can just phone in at the last second; it is a constant and ever-changing way of life, based on a moral system you develop for yourself as you grow. pretending to be someone you're not, acting solely under a prescribed ethical code especially as a grown-ass adult, makes you hollow and spineless, as well as unhappy, resentful, and unfulfilled.

doing good is hard. staying alive is hard. making decisions and forming connections and constantly being challenged are all very hard. but when you choose to embrace life, to accept failure and flaws but still try to be good, make meaningful connections and allow yourself to be genuine and happy and queer? that, to me, is the Goodest of the Good. and it's unique to each of us, while being something we all have the ability to choose for ourselves. and it's never too late for that. until the narrative tells you to jump off a cliff because that's, like, way too nuanced to be sustainable, and sure the story's resolved and it ended happily for the purest of heart, but what a bleak happiness that is. fuck that.

like, compare to vio to adora from she-ra. adora got the ending revelation i wish vio could have gotten. the whole, "i am worth more than my usefulness to others, i deserve love and self-determination" thing, and THAT's what really saved the day. adora saw her future, living happily with catra and the others, not dead or used but just LIVING, and said "hey, maybe the real answer here? the key to being a hero and saving the world? maybe it's loving, and letting myself be loved, and not sacrificing myself because someone said it's what i'm meant to do." and holy shit, she was right. and the narrative rewarded her for it, with a kiss from her catgirl gf and also destroying Big Evil and saving the galaxy or whatever.

fucking IMAGINE if that could have been the thing to save the day in the manga, just for a second. if you isolated just vio and shadow's arc and made them the Main Characters, like how adora and catra are in she ra. if it was truly allowed to be Their Story, if it was able to transcend the source material, if if if. it wouldn't even have to be just vio and shadow's story, honestly -- the four could realize, each for their own individual reasons, that maybe they can't unring the bell of their own existence. that they can protect hyrule better as themselves, that they deserve to continue the development they're been experiencing for the past 300 pages. and maybe vio would be the one to set that line of thought in motion, because has it not been set up exactly so he could?? if you've read my main au, you know exactly what i'm picturing here. and while i like some of the manga's canon ending, there's a reason most people who love these characters engage most often with alternate resolutions.

i think i like vio so much because he surprised me, and that's because he surprised the fucking AUTHORS OF THE MANGA. even more than a decade after publication, they made a point to say in their note that they appreciated the way people "got" what they were trying to say with shadow and vio specifically. i can't speak for them, and i will concede that i am mostly overthinking just for fun and none of this is that serious, but... come on. do you not see what i'm seeing here. they did something so fascinating and tragically unfulfilled here, and that all hinges on vio. and it's also just. so resonant to me as a gay person, in the same way she ra was.

obviously i could say more, and this is embarrassingly unhinged and maybe delusional, i don't know. i just wrote a lot of words about something so silly and arbitrary, but i took the time to write them because i care and can't get that time back now. so i might as well commit to the bit like gayass purple boy and post anyway

#asks #vio link #four swords #HEAVY META

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butchcaseyjones · 1 year

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why i like august, fictional morality, and the trap the narrative is leading you into

so i should definitely be going to sleep right now since i’m planning to wake up at 5am to watch yr season 2, but i’m having thoughts which is rare for me so best make the most of it.

i was talking with my friends today (about young royals, in light of season 2 dropping tomorrow) and they kept challenging why i like august. for some reason they couldn’t seem to fathom that i could truly adore every part of august and his character while still admitting that his actions were morally bad and inexcusable. it led me to wonder myself: why do i like august? why do we like some morally corrupt fictional characters but not others if their morals and situations are similar?

i thought for a while and was led to the conclusion that it’s about what characters you’re invested in. this is specific to what type of characters appeal to you, but i truly and genuinely love august because i’m more invested in his character than i am with wille and simon. don’t get me wrong, they’re very well-written, but as much as i know that august’s actions are inexcusable i still find myself rooting for his corrupt goals because i understand his character traits, motivations, and backstory. he’s very interesting, which, to me, makes him likeable. i can see why some other fans would find him well-written but not likeable but in the end i think it boils down to what traits appeal to you in a fictional character. i’ve always loved characters who are arrogant, tend to conceal their emotions, and are not fandom favourites. august was evidently made just for me.

however as my friends continued to insist that morals are what make or break a character i wondered why this is the case for august but not other characters. in a popular book series, six of crows, the main character kaz brekker is seriously morally corrupt. he has his explanations and his traumatic backstory but many of his actions are just plain wrong. and yet many media consumers would like him but not august. i think this is because of point of view. i went into young royals with august being my favourite from the first episode, and because of this, i considered his perspective and how things might look from his mentally disturbed point of view. but most casual viewers aren’t going to be examining the show like this. when a morally bad character’s internal explanations and justifications for their actions are fed to you because the story unfolds from their viewpoint, it’s much easier to love them and sympathize with them despite their morals. if any story took place from the protagonist’s enemy’s perspective, you would end up hating the protagonist.

naturally this led to me thinking about the concept of villainy as a whole, especially in young royals. my friend told me that august is the antagonist of the show, and i believe this is very wrong. when you take a step back and look at it, the idea of a severely mentally ill 18 year old being the main antagonist is a ridiculous notion. august, like almost every other character in this show, is a victim of the crown’s manipulative, alluring, cold-hearted power. the power that allows wille’s own mother to put him last. the power that taught august the only way to survive is to prioritize control and success over everything else.

i believe the trap my friend fell into - thinking that august is the show’s villain instead of considering the larger themes - is one the show will use against us in season two. centering august and wille’s feud in the narrative while much more nefarious goings-on happen above the viewer’s heads, among powerful players in the swedish monarchy. i’m not a hundred percent sure this will happen, it’s just a theory, but it would be a genius move on the show’s part to play with the narrow-mindedness of some audience members. it would also be a good metaphor for what often happens with monarchies. meaningless public feuds and disputes are displayed in the media so that the general public will ignore what’s actually happening. just some thoughts! i’m going to bed now. i’ll come back once i’ve watched season two (probably on wednesday since i have no technology access for most of tuesday lol)

#young royals #august of årnäs #august horn

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thatmcgwords · 1 month

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A good idea is simple, straightforward, and straight to the point. ~ Chip Heath, Dan Heath

“An idea that will catch the minds and eyes of the public is one based on the “inverted pyramid” style — this refers to placing the juiciest part of the idea at the forefront and the extra details later. This positioning ensures that people grab the essential parts even though they miss out on the follow-up.”

“The problem then boils down to how we can nurture ideas that’ll succeed in the world. Communicating ideas effectively is a challenge with many people, making it difficult for them to get their ideas across, and make a difference. A good illustration of this challenge is a chemistry teacher explaining the basics of chemical reactions for an hour, and a week later, just three kids in the class recall what the concept is about. Another, a manager gives a presentation which explains the several benefits of a new strategy to be implemented by the organization. The staffers nod their heads enthusiastically, only for the manager to find some of them mechanically implementing the old one on the very next day.

You can equally become an effective communicator; keep going through this piece till you’ve mopped up the last insight.”

If you wish to get your message across without laboring it with lengthy explanations, a proverb is just what you need. ~ Chip Heath, Dan Heath

Be careful not to douse your message with so much surprise, it’s either cliché or pointless. ~ Chip Heath, Dan Heath

“People want to know what they don’t already know; the human mind is designed to fill gaps in knowledge. You must first create these gaps and have the correct information to fill them in handy. Your message must be so well framed that the listener waits on the edge of their seat for the next word until it ends.”

People want to know, so giving them something that sticks long enough is up to you. ~ Chip Heath, Dan Heath

“Ideas can be catchy and draw as much attention as possible when you keep it simple and throw something unexpected that both feeds and draws curiosity from your listeners. However, there is a chance that with so many tools employed, you can risk being abstract and vague. Sometimes, we try to get a message across to a particular group, and sadly, the message is either too simple or too unexpectedly surprising that it doesn’t hold enough resonance with them.”

To make our communications more effective, we need to shift our thinking from ‘What information do I need to convey?’ to ‘What questions do I want my audience to ask?’ ~ Chip Heath

“Concrete ideas are simple. They don’t use up too many language points; instead, they use a general language that any listener, regardless of their race or background, will be able to understand without too much trouble.

It might all sound too much of a task to translate a vast subject into a compact, concrete, “layman” version for your listeners. However, the author suggests that if you have trouble making your idea concrete, you should try going backward instead — think of the customers, consumers, and users, what language will appeal to them the most?”

“Credibility is garnered in various ways or by various means, but first, it is essential to know why we find specific stories credible and others not. We associate truth with authority; if someone we trust or look up to tells a story, we immediately agree on their version of the tale without any question. So the first element of credibility is external authority to back up the story.”

An ad to stop people from driving at night might not get enough attention, but an awareness of the dangers lurking on the road will make them apprehensive of night travel, and thus adhere to the directive. ~ Chip Heath, Dan Heath

“Vivid details aid proper understanding of a credible and concrete message, but they are just fancy words repeated without hard facts. These stats help put things in perspective; for example, if listeners were told that swimming in the ocean is less likely to lead to death than driving at night, people would argue that sharks kill surfers every day. While this would be false, it would catch on quickly, and that’s why you need to add statistics. Likewise, telling listeners that a deer crossing the road is 300 times more likely to kill you than a shark in open water will suddenly make them shift ground and take your message thoughtfully, and that’s the power of hard facts in gaining credibility.”

“For your story to make people care, it needs to evoke a response on an emotional level. First, you need to appeal to their hearts and not their minds since the mind is more analytical and will be less likely to give in to “tear jerkers.” Second, your message should not drag in any need for analysis. For example, if you want to solicit support for homeless children, don’t start your message by stating the staggering number of children homeless daily but instead make it about one child being homeless.”

“Stories aren’t always easy to create, so instead of creating one, you can try to seek out one. A good story or one with potential will have either creativity, connection, challenging, or all three.

The clever plot readies our minds to think, and creates an eagerness to act. It causes us to think; the present good story will usher in freedom or drive to think, not just vaguely, but about concrete solutions. It gives us a chance to experience a mental breakthrough.

However, the connection plot involves people who form relationships and, with this relationship, transcend their limitations and achieve more than they would on their own. It causes us to yearn for a connection with the people around us in hopes of defeating a problem that’s beyond us.

With the challenging plot, the audience is met with a story that pits two opponents against each other, but one would be the underdog and the other a sure thing. The story highlights how the underdog, the protagonist, strives and defeats this insurmountable challenge and comes out on top.

So, it can be safe to say that a good story should challenge our minds to think, inspire us to seek connections, and motivate us to take on whatever challenge we currently face. The only drawback is making sure it isn’t so well worded that it becomes too complex to be understood.”

Stories are a sticky tool for passing across an idea because they are concrete, credible, evoke emotions, and are, well…a story. ~ Chip Heath, Dan Heath

“Daily, we are faced with the burning question; How do I make people listen to my idea? And without the proper guidance, a lot of ideas will never be heard, mainly because they lack simplicity, unexpectedness, concreteness, credibility, emotion, and a compelling story. The goal is to tell your story and share your idea without the core intention of getting lost amidst the fanciful setup. Your idea is one tweak away from being sticky.

One of the several methods of achieving effective communication, as discussed in summary, is aids. Some tools aid the dissemination of ideas such that it is more straightforward but retains its core. Thus, you can avoid burdening an idea with excess details; you should seek out the core of the idea.”

“Another tool is giving them more facts than they can wrap their heads around. You’d expect that more knowledge would reduce curiosity, but it increases it, and this gives you a chance to expose them to new experiences and information. As long as there are new things left to learn, a curious mind will desire it.”

“However, a final tool that is effective is letting the listener prove it for himself.

Also, your message must possess such conciseness and directness that its message isn’t misconstrued, a sense of history to help people relate to it, and a sense of wonder to cause them to keep asking, “what’s next, what’s left?”

Try this

When next you have an idea you want to execute, ask yourself if it will pass the “Made to Stick” test. Here’s a good example:

Spend ten to fifteen seconds, no more, studying the letters below.

J FKFB INAT OUP SNA SAI RS

After the period of studying the letters, try recalling as many letters as possible, in their order of appearance.

Try the test on multiple occasions, and you’re more likely to recall more letters afterwards.

Now, try again with the following string of letters.

JFK FBI NATO UPS NASA IRS

Go figure!”

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#headway

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red-dragon-archfiend · 3 years

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Sometimes I have multiple ideas for one class when really I should just figure out what I would do if I had ONE character for each class

#musings #dungeons and dragons #realistically speaking i'm going to prioritize trying new classes over playing the same one in a slightly different way #i have a bunch of ideas for fighters but do i really think i would have enough opportunities to play new characters to play fighter twice #so instead of making several ideas i should boil most of them down into one character with all my favorite parts #the 'bandit king' idea is the only one i feel can't really be combined with the others neatly because it's so different in feel #and the character in question has too much pronounced personality for it to feel natural to alter her significantly #so what i'd probably end up doing is a dragonborn eldritch knight to play with the new ua #because eldritch knight is the subclass i'm most interested in #at first i considered fire genasi before i realized i really just wanted fire bolt and the fire genasi features are underpowered #then i wanted to try high elf for perception and the extra cantrip #but that may feel too similar to my cleric who is a high elf for those same reasons #the new ua dragonborns are the first lineage i looked at and really wanted to play a fighter with #so i may do that?

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ikeromantic · 2 years

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Hi! If you have the time, can I request for a chevalier and child story?

Like, in Chevalier's route romantic ending, Emma left after spending night with Chevalier so what if she gave birth to a boy with his knowledge?

Oh my, so full disclosure, I have not done the romantic ending yet! But I like this idea so, here goes! Approx. 1500 words.

Sariel stood in the doorway. Behind him, the sky was clear and blue and perfect. Emma felt her eyes drifting to it. Anything to avoid the councilor’s severe expression.

“I have to say, Emma. I’m impressed. The last Belle was not nearly so crafty as you have been. But you didn’t hide nearly well enough.” Sariel smiled coldly.

“I wasn’t hiding.” Emma’s eyes fixed on him, forcing herself to confront this head on. She’d always known this was bound to happen. “I left because, if you will remember, you wouldn’t allow me to stay. Clause 99.”

“Yes, but you should have told us you were with child.” He stepped into the hall, his boots thudding on the wood floor. “Where is he?”

She sighed. “I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left. By the time I realized it, I was scared to come forward. I knew you would take him from me, like you did Jin.”

“Where is he, Emma?”

There were palace guards in the street behind Sariel. She could see them through the open door. There wasn’t a way for her to fight this, not with any hope of winning. “He’s out with his ‘uncle’ Rio. Buying groceries for dinner.”

Funny enough, Chevalier’s coloring was similar enough to Rio’s that most people assumed the boy was his child. And Rio, bless him, had stayed with her through everything, even knowing - as he must - that she didn’t love him. Emma was in love, would always be in love, with Chevalier.

Sariel nodded. “I am glad you chose to be honest. We’ll wait here for them, then.” He sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and took off his gloves. “Could you fetch me some tea?”

Emma wanted to tell him to get his own tea. Back in the palace. But she’d been raised a polite girl, so instead she put on water to boil. The soldiers from outside filed in and stood awkwardly wherever they could find space. She served them all tea which they drank in tense silence.

“What is the boy’s name?” The councilor fixed Emma with a look that said he knew, but wanted her to tell him anyhow.

“Frederick.”

Sariel nodded thoughtfully. “A name meaning peaceful ruler. How . . . optimistic.” He set his teacup down.

Then the door opened. Rio had barely a heartbeat to note the soldiers. He locked eyes with Sariel and reached inside his vest with one hand. With the other, he pushed Frederick behind him.

The little blonde boy didn’t look frightened as most children his age might. His hands curled into fists and his ice-blue eyes flashed with an understanding that surpassed his age.

Emma screamed and moved toward her son. Around her, the room exploded into action. Sariel was shouting orders, the soldiers were pulling their weapons, and Rio was moving so fast. Soldiers fell as he passed them, but Emma barely noticed. She lifted Frederick into her arms and stepped toward the door.

She didn’t make it far.

“Stop.” Chevalier’s voice cut through the din, arrogant. Commanding.

She looked up at him, at the face she saw in her sweetest dreams. One she had not expected to see so close. Close enough to touch.

His jaw was tense as he met her gaze. “Emma.”

Emma knelt, as all subjects must when in the presence of the King. She set Frederick on the floor beside her. He knelt too, imitating her as best as his chubby little legs could.

“Get up,” Chevalier sighed.

“Highness, there was no need for you to come here. I have it under-” Sariel was interrupted.

“Shut up, four-eyes.” Chevalier’s gaze moved to Rio. “I’m not here to hurt her. You can put your knives down. If you even have any left.”

“Knives?” Emma risked a glance behind her as she stood. She didn’t see any weapon in Rio’s hands, though there were several suspiciously bloody guards at his feet, groaning.

Rio flashed her a goofy smile, but his eyes betrayed his tension. “Did you come to take the boy?”

Chevalier took a breath. Then he knelt and looked at his son. “Frederick.” This close, it was impossible not to see the resemblance. The arrogant tilt of the chin, the eyes as blue as arctic ice. Hair like cornsilk, fine and light.

The little boy nodded. He pointed a chubby finger at Chevalier. “Daddy.”

There was a collective intake of breath. Then Chev laughed. A tired, uncertain chuckle. “Yes. I can see you are a smart fellow.”

“Yes.” Frederick nodded.

Emma, as usual, could not read Chevalier’s reaction. She could have told him their son was a wunderkind. A boy too smart for his age. A boy that at three, could read as well as she, and did figures with Rio. That he understood context better than some adults, and could remember with frightening clarity. She wasn’t sure what any of that would mean to the King.

Perhaps just more reason for them to take Frederick away from her. The thought made her feel cold inside. She looked down at Chev, her heart torn by conflict. Here was her lover. The man she’d given herself to, heart and soul. Here was the man that came to steal away her son. A man that rejected her love. A man she hadn’t seen for almost four years.

As if sensing her gaze, Chevalier looked up. His gaze burned hot and blue, like banked coals. “Everyone out. Everyone but Emma and my . . . my son.”

“Highness, in your position it is unwise to-”

“That was not a request, Sariel. Or is this the day you finally defy me openly?” Chevalier’s gaze did not shift, even as he addressed the councilor.

The soldiers filed out, helping their wounded brethren. Sariel did not say another word as he stepped out into the sunlit street, a world away. Rio was the last to leave. He gave Emma’s arm a gentle squeeze as if to promise her that he was still here, should she need him.

Then they were alone. Emma, Chevalier, and their child.

“I can see you want to say something. Say it.” Chev’s voice was as flat and cold as always, belying the heat in his eyes.

Emma swallowed. “H-higness. I didn’t expect to . . . I didn’t think I would see you again. The clause -”

“We are alone. Call me by my name. Say it.”

“Chevalier.”

“Good.” He smiled. “Now, you aren’t Belle any longer. What does Clause 99 have to do with anything?”

“I, well, Sariel told me I wasn’t allowed to ever contact you again. Or any of the princes.” She reached down to ruffle Frederick’s hair, worried about what he might take out of this exchange. “I expected Sariel or someone else to come for my son though. I’m surprised it took this long.”

Chevalier huffed. “I made sure you were hidden. This,” he gestured to the wrecked room, “I tried to avoid. But four-eyes sticks his nose into everything.”

“You hid us?” Emma couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.

“What did you think, simpleton? That this house was simply luck? That your job landed in your lap like a gift? That never in four years did anyone from the palace cross your doorstep?” He sighed.

That was exactly what Emma had thought. She’d gotten lucky. But knowing this, she had only one question. “Why?”

“You really don’t know?”

Though his tone was sharp, she detected in it an underlying note of need. Of desperation.

He reached for her, the tips of his fingers brushed her jaw, across her lips. “You are such a fool.” Chevalier said it so tenderly, with such gentleness that the words seemed almost foreign.

“All this time, you knew where we were. Why didn’t you come to us?” Emma could not help but lean into his touch. Her skin thirsted for it as parched ground misses the rain.

Chev tilted his head. “I was waiting.”

“For us,” Frederick said helpfully.

“Yes.”

Emma felt tears sting her eyes. In the years since she’d left the palace, she’d never once thought to return. Sariel had made clear any attempt would be punished with exile or worse. And then when she’d had Frederick . . .

Chevalier’s thumb wiped away the first tear to spill. His calloused hands were clumsy as he pulled her to him. Too rough, too demanding, and yet this was the touch she craved. The warmth of his arms. The awkward way he stroked her back. The smell of vetiver and copper as she rested her cheek against his chest.

“It would have been better if you came back on your own.” Chevalier’s grip on her tightened. “But now that I have you again, I will not let you go. Not you, nor my son.”

“But Clause 99-”

Chevalier’s lips pressed against her head as he inhaled the scent of her. “I am King. I will let no clause take you from me again.”

She smiled through her tears. “I should have known you wouldn’t let something like that change your mind.” Emma stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

“You taught me what love is. There is no other I could give my heart to.” He let go of her with one arm to scoop Frederick up. “Let’s go home.”

#ikemen prince #ikeprince chevalier #chevalier michel #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #drama #fluff

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imagineyourworld · 3 years

Text

How the clones would ask you out (Genderneutral)

Includes Rex, Fives, Echo, Jesse, Kix, Cody and Wolffe

Warnings: None

Rex

Poor Rex would be so, so nervous

It took pep talks vom Anakin, Ahsoka and several of his brothers to get up the courage to actually ask you out (though not all of them were all that helpful)

Rex wouldn’t ask you out in public or at work, he’d go to your flat instead

His strong knock doesn’t betray his nerves, but the second you open the door he cannot remember what he was going to say for the life of him

Luckily he was trained as a soldier his entire life and it only takes him a few second to forget about his nerves and continue with his plan

“I was wondering if you’d like to go on a picnic with me tomorrow?”

A picnic, Ahsoka had convinced him, would be the perfect first date. The two of them had even decided on a nice place in one of Coruscant’s few parks together

(Plus Rex likes to bake and cook, it’s his way of dealing with the stress of war (and his brothers’ shenanigans))

“I��d love to.”

You have never seen such a big smile on Rex’s face

“Great. That’s great.”

You chatted for a few more minutes before Rex had to excuse himself. Just as you were closing the door you stuck your head out again. “Rex?” “Yes.” “Is this a date?” The small blush on his face was adorable. “I’d like it to be, if that’s fine with you.” You smiled. “It’s more than fine.”

Fives

If anyone has an actual pickup line it’s Fives, not in a creepy way though, he’s cute about it

The two of you have been flirting back and forth for a while now and Fives, after finally no longer denying his feelings, decides to ask you out

He walks up to you with every bit of confidence he can muster

“Hey handsome, what brings you here?”, you ask. Your usual greeting, but Fives doesn’t reply in the way he usually does (”Hey mesh’la, just coming to admire the view.”) “Since you make my heart sing I was wondering if you’d like to accompany to a concert tomorrow.”

You could tell that he wasn’t joking this time, but still decided to have your fun with him.

“So sorry, I already promised another handsome young man with a number as his name to spend the day with him.” As soon as the words left your mouth the smile fell from Fives’ face and instantly made you regret your words. “Oh, baby, no. I was only joking. I’d love to go out with you.” The smirk was back and brighter than ever. “It’s a date!”, he said a bit louder than he had to.

He’d kiss you on the cheek before saying goodbye.

(And maybe he even whispers suggestions for what you could do after the concert in your ear.)

Echo

Much like Rex, Echo is quite nervous

At first he was glad to have Fives on his side to give him advice, but he soon learned that not everything his brother suggested would go down well

He’d wait for you at work and offer to walk you home, because someone once told him that travelling in the same direction eases conversation

When you exit the building your eyes immediately fall on Echo, who is standing nearby with flowers in his hand. “What are you doing here?”, you ask with a smile on your face. “I... well... I saw these flowers in the market downton and they made me think of you.” He hands you the flowers, suddenly even more nervous now that he doesn’t have anything in his hands. “That’s so sweet”, you say as you lift the flowers to your nose. “I was just on my way home, would you like to join me and come in for a cup of caf?”

The two spend the rest of the day together. Walking home, drinking caf, cooking dinner. After a while Echo’s nervousness fades and only returns when he realises it’s time for him to return to the barracks.

“Actually I had another reason to come to see you today. I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Like on a date. If you would like to go on a date with me.” You laugh and the sound Echo usually cherishes breaks his heart, which you soon realise. “Oh, Echo, honey, no! I mean yes, but I just thought that today was kinda like... a date... I’m sorry, I was just assuming, I should have actually asked you.” A smile mirroring yours appeared on his face. “So... How about a second date?”

Jesse

Jesse only realises that he needs to ask you out as soon as possible after a particularly tough mission. A lot of his brothers died, even more got hurt, and he spent a few days in the medbay as well.

The second he’s back on Coruscant he comms you asking where you are and no matter where you are or what you’re doing, he’s on his way to you as soon as you answer.

“Stars, Jesse, what’s gotten into you?”, you ask when you open the door to his rapid knocking. “I like you, I really like you and I don’t want to die without ever asking you out. So, (Y/N), will you go out with me?” At first you don’t know what to say. “Of course I’ll go out with you. But maybe you should sit down for a minute, you don’t seem like yourself.”

After just a few minutes and a cup of herbal tea the two of you were talking and joking like always. That is until you remember an appointment you had to hurry to make. “I’d hate to throw you out, but I really need to go.” “That’s fine”, Jesse says with a smile. “How about I pick you up tomorrow at seven for our date?” You nod your head smiling.

Kix

Kix asks you out more or less on accident. It’s been a long day, he’s tired, and all he wants is a relaxing evening with you.

“Hey, Kix, you wanna come to 79s with us?”, Fives, who just popped into the medbay, asks. Kix shook his head. “I really don’t. If it were up to me I’d spend the evening with some takeout and (Y/N).” “(Y/N)?”, Jesse follows up. “They help me relax like no one else and that’s what I need after stitching you idiots up all day”, Kix says, glancing at Fives and Hardcase at his last words. “Then how about we grab something to eat and spend the evening on my couch?”, you offer. Everyone turns to you, who had just entered the room. Echo bursts in a second later. “Sorry, I tried to stop her from coming in.”

Kix blushes like crazy, you weren’t supposed to hear that. He tells you as much.

You walk over to where he’s sitting, miraculously the others have disappeared, and place a hand on his shoulder. If it weren’t for the armour covering him you would have loved nothing more than giving him a soothing massage.

“You know what? I’m here because I wanted to ask you out, but I guess you just did that for me.” He chuckled. “Guess so. Let’s go, I cannot wait for our date.”

Cody

Cody would be so smooth when asking you out, mainly because he got advice from Obi-Wan, who flirts with everyone and could teach him a few good moves.

His tactic is pretending you already agreed, which is why he spent the afternoon transforming his room into a small movie theatre for the two of you, complete with snacks and drinks and a holoprojector.

He then makes his way over to your apartment to actually ask you out. And though he hadn’t been nervous all day, the second you open the door he’s at a loss for words.

“(Y/N), cyare, I was wondering... No, that’s not it... I’m here to ask you... No, wait... Would you like to...” Though you can’t help but find his out of character rambling cute, you want nothing more than to put poor Cody out of his misery. “Would you care for a glass of water?”, you ask, opening the door further to invite him in.

For some reason the cool water helps him sort out his thoughts and he can finally ask the question he’d prepared earlier. “Would you like to watch a movie with me tonight?”, he asks, his voice smooth and steady. For a fraction of a second there was something that might have been disappointment in your eyes, but then you nodded. “Sure. Why don’t we invite Waxer and Boil as well?” Cody had been quite sure that you’d agree, but the second part caught him off guard. Maybe he should have been more obvious with his intention. “Actually, I was hoping it’d be just the two of us.” You raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute, Cody, did you just ask me on a date?” A shy smile made it’s way on his face, though to his credit he didn’t blush. “I did.” He had no idea how it was possible, but the smile on your face was even brighter than his own. “In that case, yes! I’d love to watch a movie with you.”

Wolffe

The main reason Wolffe was reluctant to ask you out was not nerves, but rather not wanting to admit his feelings, not wanting to admit a weakness. It was actually Plo Koon who, through ambiguous comments, convinced him to just do it.

He didn’t want it to be a big ceremony, he wasn’t the type for big gestures, but that night, as you were sitting at 79s with the Wolfpack and your eyes were glittering in the multicoloured lights and your perfume made its way to Wolffe’s nose, he just had to ask you out before it was too late, before anything happened to either of you or someone else asked you before he did.

And so, when most of the others were scattered across the bar, he asked you if you’d like to get some air with him. He may not be one for big gestures, but he’d be damned if he asked you out in a stuffy bar surrounded by his drunk brothers.

Outside, he realized was not the perfect environment either. There were still drunk clones around and instead of stuffy it was cold, cold enough to make you shiver in your thin clothes and Wolffe wished he had a jacket he could give you. “I’ll make this quick so you can go back inside. I-”, he stopped himself. You were suddenly a lot closer than just a few moments ago, he could feel your warm breath on his face and it made him lose all focus. “Yes, Wolffe?”, you questioned. He cleared his throat and continued. “I was hoping that you’d like to go on a date with me sometime.”

The atmosphere may not have been perfect, neither were his words, but your smile was and it made up for everything else. “I don’t know, Commander, what’s in it for me?”, you asked with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know. Dinner, maybe flowers or chocolate”, he replied, trying his best to hide the sudden insecurity. You crossed your arms over your chest and sighed. Wolffe knew what was coming next, he knew you’d let him down and it would be awkward. He never should have asked you out. “You know, I had been hoping you’d say The pleasure of my company or something like that, but I suppose chocolate will do.” A smirk had made it’s way to your lips and a low chuckled escaped Wolffe’s. “Is that a yes, mesh’la?” “It is.”

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holden-caulfield · 3 years

Text

Desperately

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

SUMMARY: reader and blaise are partners in potions class and he lets something slip about a certain friend of his.

WARNINGS: none i think!

WORD COUNT: 1513

A/N: this is my entry for @simpology 's writing challenge with the prompt "Oh, and he's wretchedly in love with you"... hope this is good :)) the plot is kind of confusing but just go along with it

"Do you have the instructions?" asked a nonchalant Blaise Zabini as he settled next to you, letting his bag fall down next to his chair.

"Of course, yes. We'll need-"

"I know, i've already picked everything." he said hurriedly as he placed several bottles and containers on the table, surrounding the boiling cauldron at the center of it.

"Oh! Ok... we can start then, we'll have to add-" you interrupted your reading as you noticed Blaise already pouring a non-specified quantity of some green liquid into the cauldron.

You eyed him curiously as he continued the potion-making on his own.

"Why did you ask me about the instructions if-" he raised his index finger in front of your face, successfully shutting you up and irritating you at the same time.

He poured another range of ingredients in the cauldron and began mixing, finally raising his eyes at you.

"Now we can talk about important things." he stated, not stopping his movements.

"You just interrupted me twice in the span of 5 minutes, what could be possibly more important than the potion that Snape is going to grade today?" you asked with annoyance audible in your voice as you crossed your arms in front of you.

"Don't worry about the potion, it's going splendid. We have far more important matters to discuss." his calm voice was doing nothing to soothe you, instead doing just the opposite.

"And what is that?"

"You." he announced, remaining as stoic as a statue.

Your eyes widened at the mere syllable that had just left his mouth.

"Me? And what about me?"

"Not exactly you, more like your current situation." his eyes bored into yours with such coolness you wondered whether you were the daft one there.

"My situation? And what-"

"Your sentimental situation." he cut you off. Again.

"It's the third time you do that."

"And you keep on posing questions but i'm the one that should be asking and we don't have a lot of time. Do you know Draco Malfoy?"

"What does that even mean?!" he raised an eyebrow at you, unimpressed, and you simply scoffed. "I'm not interested in whatever game you are playing right now, Zabini."

"Just answer my questions, y/l/n, i swear there is a point." he continued stirring the concoction, eventually dropping new ingredients. You sighed but decided to play his game.

"Yes, yes i know him."

"How would you describe him?"

"Zabini, i swear, this isn't making any sense, can you-"

"What did i say about asking questions?" he scolded you. You rolled your eyes and narrowed them at the boy in front of you.

"Fine. He's blond, tall-"

"Not physically, you idiot." he scoffed and you smiled to yourself, which made him eventually soften his gaze.

"He's a slytherin and..." you didn't know what to say. You obviously knew about his past actions, he wasn't exactly well-seen at hogwarts.

"And?" he asked expectantly.

"And i don't know, he's not the nicest person around, i think."

"Interesting." he muttered, almost to himself as he got lost in his own thoughts. "What do you think about me then?"

"You? You are like him, aren't you?" you asked, smirking as you did so.

"I don't know, i'm asking you." he said, returning the smile with playful eyes. You scoffed and returned to your potions book but Blaise snatched it our of your hands. "We were talking, weren't we?"

"We were supposed to brew a potion, weren't we?" you asked, mimicking his previous sentence while taking back your book.

"I got that under control." he added other ingredients and at this point you were wondering whether he knew what he was doing or whether he was improvising just to talk to you. "So, me and Draco are the same, correct?"

"Actually," you said while trying to find the passage in your book, "i hope he has half the patience i have or he should have hexed you ages ago."

You skimmed through the pages but you couldn't find the right ones. Blaise grasped it again and hid it behind his back, earning the most choleric stare you could muster.

"Or maybe i don't. I'd love to see him hex you. Know what? I might do it myself."

"Now that's a wonderful idea." your eyes widened again and, furrowing your eyebrows, you just stared at the boy i front of you, wondering what had happened to him. "But i had something else in mind. Why don't you go take your book back, we might need it."

You switched your gaze from his own eyes to his hands and noticed that he had no longer the book, instead his wand, pointed towards one of the other tables of the class. A table you noticed had two copies of the same book on it, meaning one had to be yours.

"What game are you playing, Zabini? Do you even know what you're doing there?" you asked, pointing to the concoction.

"I don't, so you better get your book back if you want to fix this." he said and you could feel anger boiling in your chest at the smugness of the slytherin.

You marched towards the table, exasperated.

"Oh, and y/n?" you turned around while walking, eyes still flaming with annoyance, "he's wretchedly in love with you."

You couldn't process the new cryptical information as you bumped into someone. You immediately returned your eyes to the front of you, finding a tall blond there, holding your book in between your bodies.

"Is this yours?" he lifted slightly the book but you were speechless. What had Blaise just said? "Cat got your tongue? I'm asking if this is yours..."

Your eyes darted from his to the book several times before settling on the latter.

"Yes! Yes, it is." you finally spoke and heard chuckling coming from behind you. Blaise.

Draco handed you the book and you took it slowly, still unsure of what your next move should have been.

"Wait!" you said, a little louder than you intended to but enough to catch his attention as he was returning to his own workplace. "Do you- uhm..."

He stared at you, waiting for you to finish your sentence but it was not as easy as it sounded.

"Do you want to switch partners?" you managed to let out, visibly confusing him.

"You want to be with Nott?"

"With you actually... Blaise said-"

"Blaise said what?" he suddenly got more serious, his irises darkening as if you had just created a storm.

"He said-"

"I said you are the best at potions and she needs help. Desperately." Blaise came up from behind you, laying his hands on your shoulder, still stiff from the embarrassment but it immediately vanished as you heard the voice, leaving its place to irritation.

"I do not need help and most certainly not desperately." you stated indignantly and the blond in front of you let out a small chuckle, earning himself an angry look from you too.

"I'll leave you to it then." he said smirking and you quickly grabbed his arm to prevent him from leaving you with Blaise.

"Please no, i can't bear another minute with him." you pleaded, which made the blond suppress a chuckle and his friend roll his eyes, clearly annoyed.

You stared at him for a moment longer as he did the same, almost as if time had frozen.

"Well... i'll leave you two to it" Blaise began to make his way to Draco's previous working table, "maybe you'll finally be able to tell her about your crush on her, huh?"

Draco's head whipped towards Blaise as fast as lightning, a panicked look ruling over his features. His best friend kept going, leaving the two of you alone, speechless.

You stared at him and he stared at you.

"I like you too-"

"He was kidding-"

"Oh." you both said in unison.

He stared at you and you stared at him. No more words were exchanged, just looks.

"You like me?" he asked tentatively.

"He was kidding?" you retorted, slightly hurt and embarrassed now.

"That depends."

"On what? On how ridiculous i must look right now?" you continued, the embarrassment turning quickly into annoyance.

"On whether you really like me or not." you were still unconvinced, his face unreadable as you tried to look for an ounce of sincerity in his silvery eyes, "Because i do like you, y/l/n."

Your brows still furrowed, you stared at him inquisitively.

"Were you the one kidding?" he asked now, suddenly self-conscious, letting out a single dry nervous chuckle.

You scrutinized him a little longer, noticing his confidence wavering and his patience thinning from the way he was looking at you.

"I wasn't." you finally stated, smirking at the blond boy in front of you.

He furrowed his brows too, the corners of his mouth hinting at a slight smile. But the sharp hit on both of your heads delivered by professor Snape made you both hurry back to your table.

"Get back to work."

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#draco malfoy x reader #fanfic #draco malfoy #fanfiction #harry potter #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you

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samwisethewitch · 4 years

Text

Working with Spirits

In my last post, I talked about different types of spirits that witches may work with. Today, we’re going to discuss how to approach spirits and establish a working relationship.

Keep in mind that these are general guidelines, and every spirit is different. I encourage you to do your own research beyond this post, especially if you plan to work with powerful entities like deities, angels, or fairies.

Remember the Four R’s

It’s important to keep these things in mind when working with spirits:

Respect. The spirits are powerful, and you need to have a healthy respect for that power when working with them. It’s also important to respect them as individual, autonomous beings.

I’m not saying that every interaction you have with the spirits needs to be a full blown ritual with incense and chanting. (In fact, some spirits don’t care for those types of rituals.) But every interaction you have with them should be conducted with an air of respect and reverence.

What this mostly boils down to is good manners. Being polite will get you better results — and it will also keep you from being on the receiving end of spirit mischief. Proper etiquette depends on the type of spirit you’re working with, which is one reason it’s important to do your research. In general, it’s polite to make an offering, use respectful language, and thank the spirits before you leave (unless you’re dealing with fairies — some traditions say you should never thank the fae).

Respecting spirits also means respecting their desires — even if that means respecting their wish not to work with you. Not every spirit you reach out to will want to form a relationship with you, just like not every person you meet in your life will want to be your friend. When a spirit turns you down, respect their decision, politely bid them farewell, and move on.

Reciprocity. The goal of spirit work is to establish a mutually-beneficial partnership — not for one partner to serve the other. On one hand, this means that you can’t just command spirits to do your bidding without giving anything in return. On the other hand, it also means that you won’t be worshiping/honoring them without receiving some kind of boon.

This is why it’s important to make offerings to the spirits you work with. These offerings “feed” the spirits by giving them power, and a good offering will likely make a spirit more willing to work with you. Offerings are not payment for favors from spirits (it’s not quite that simple), but they are a sign that you intent to practice reciprocity in your relationship.

In general, it’s important to make an offering when you first introduce yourself to a spirit and again before you ask them for anything. But you shouldn’t only make offerings when you’re about to ask for something! How would you feel if you had a friend who only did nice things for you when they were about to ask for a favor? You’d probably start avoiding them, right? You might even get angry. To avoid this kind of dynamic in your spirit work, make regular offerings to the spirits you work with. If you’re especially close with a spirit, you may want to offer to them every day.

Relationship. The spirits are not vending machines where you put offerings in and blessings fall out. They are living, sentient beings with feelings, and deserve to be treated as such. Your relationship with the spirits you choose to work with is just that: a relationship. And like any relationship, it requires time, energy, and emotional labor.

If that sounds like more effort than you want to make, there are plenty of ways to do magic without ever working with spirits. You don’t need to do spirit work to be a witch. It may not be your thing, and that’s okay!

But if you choose to work with spirits, it’s important to remember that you are working with them as an equal partner — you’re not their boss, and they are not obligated to like you, help you, or even tolerate you. Relationships with spirits are built over time, through mutual respect and trust.

You wouldn’t drive up to your friend’s house, throw a fast-food burger at them, and then demand a special favor. Likewise, you shouldn’t just dump an offering on your altar and demand something of the spirits. Take the time to sit down with them. Talk to them. Get to know them. Put some thought into your offerings, instead of just offering the same thing every time. Spirit work is, at its core, about building an authentic relationship with the spirits we choose to include in our practice. Enjoy it.

Research. When it comes to spirits, it’s important to know exactly who (and what) you’re dealing with. As previously mentioned, the etiquette for dealing with fairies is very different from other land spirits. Different deities have different standards for their worshipers, which vary from one pantheon to the next. The way you interact with your ancestors will probably be shaped by their personalities, cultures, and values. All this is to say it’s important to know who you’re reaching out to, preferably before you reach out to them.

With deities, this is easy. Most witches who choose to work with deities will feel drawn to a certain pantheon, or even a specific god or goddess. There’s a lot of information out there about most historical pantheons, so researching them is easy. The same goes for angels, saints, demons, and even fairies.

It can be a little more difficult to do your research when you’re dealing with land spirits, spirits of place, or other less well-known figures. In these cases, it’s best to take three steps: 1.) figure out what type of spirit you’re dealing with (land spirit, animal spirit, ancestor, etc.), 2.) find out what this type of spirit is like generally, and 3.) find out how that applies to your specific spirit.

For example: you want to connect with your local land spirits. You do some research to find out how land spirits have been treated in various cultures — you find out that they’re typically benevolent, are closely tied to the natural landscape, and were often given food offerings. Then, you do some research into your local plants and animals — what form might a nature spirit take in your local environment? Would it be a huge moose with snow-covered antlers, or a magnolia tree in full bloom? Is there any local folklore in your area that could be describing a land spirit? Once you have answers to these questions, you’ll have a much better idea of how to approach the spirits and start up a relationship.

Initiating a Relationship with a Spirit

Begin by identifying who this spirit is. For example, let’s say you choose to reach out to a specific ancestor spirit — maybe a deceased grandparent. Make sure you’re familiar with the etiquette for interacting with this type of spirit so you don’t accidentally do something disrespectful. (If your Grandma hated cussing, try not to drop any f-bombs while communing with her.)

Create a special space to communicate with the spirit. This can be as simple as lighting a candle or as elaborate as setting up a special altar. If you’re reaching out to a grandparent, you might set up a small ritual space with a photo of them, any of their belongings that you have access to, and some things that they enjoyed while they were alive. These items may make the connection easier, but you don’t need them to communicate. What matters is that you’ve taken the time to create a special space for this moment. (Like all ritual spaces, it should be clean and tidy, and it’s a good idea to do an energetic cleanse beforehand.)

Make an offering. Make sure your offering is appropriate for the spirit you’re connecting to. Offerings should be made with an air of reverence — don’t just toss a bag of Doritos on your altar and expect it to be well-received.

Introduce yourself. Speak out loud. State your intention and who you are hoping to connect with.

Wait and listen. You may feel a presence or receive some kind of sign — or you may not. Just because you didn’t get a sign doesn’t mean that your offering wasn’t noticed or that you’re being ignored. You may also receive a sign several hours, days, or weeks after you first reach out. Be patient.

Say your farewells. Express your gratitude for the spirit’s presence, and let them know that you are ending your little ritual. It’s up to you whether to invite them to stick around or politely tell them to leave, but if you’re going to give a spirit permission to linger in your home you better be 1000% sure you know who they are and what their intentions with you are.

Moving Forward

As you work with this spirit, it is important to establish clear boundaries for the relationship. Be clear about what you want to accomplish by working with them, and make sure you understand what they expect from you in return.

You might want to establish a time limit: for example, maybe you’re choosing to work closely with the goddess Brigid from Imbolc to Samhain, at which point you can choose to continue the relationship or to take a step back. Or, you may choose to work with a spirit on a specific task — for example, working with the goddess Aphrodite to get back on your feet and rebuild your self esteem after a breakup. Once this task is accomplished, you may choose to form a more long-term relationship or to take a step back.

Forming a permanent or long-term working relationship with a spirit is a very big, very serious commitment, and should not be taken lightly. This goes double for anything involving a ritual commitment, such as dedication to a deity. When you make these commitments, you are choosing to make a spirit and their energy a permanent part of your life. This decision requires some very serious introspection and consideration, and should not be made impulsively.

Resources:

Southern Cunning: Folkloric Witchcraft in the American South by Aaron Oberon

A Practical Heathen’s Guide to Asatru by Patricia M. Lafayllve

Where the Hawthorn Grows and The Morrigan: Meeting the Great Queens by Morgan Daimler

Wicca for Beginners by Thea Sabin

Azrael Loves Chocolate, Michael’s A Jock: An Insider’s Guide to What Your Angels Are Really Like and The Angel Code by Chantel Lysette

New World Witchery podcast (several episodes, including “Episode 164 — Irish Folklore and Magic,” “Episode 161 — Practicing Safe Hex,” and “Episode 152 — Honoring Ancestors”)

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 125.3 Accidental Bonding (Part 3)

You can start at Part One, if you'd like.)

"Piss off, Malfoy," Jenkins snarled from across the room at the end of the training exercise, drawing Harry's attention from the conversation he was having with Ron. "You are such an arsehole. You think you're so clever, so much better than us," he shoved Malfoy's shoulders, "but you're just a slimy Dark Lord worshiper-"

"Oy!" Harry shouted, darting forward and physically putting his body between Jenkins and Malfoy, "Don't talk to him like that."

"I'll talk to that fu-"

"You need to back down," Harry growled, his body thrumming with energy, fingers tingling with the urge to punch Jenkins in the face, his magic racing hot and bright under his skin.

Malfoy put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Don't," he said. "He's not worth it."

He glared at the other man for a moment before taking a step toward the locker room.

"Oh, I get it," Jenkins sneered, "some people are so possessive of their pets. He's letting you fuck him now, so-"

Harry spun around so fast that Jenkins didn't have a moment to see what was about to happen as Harry's fist connected with his jaw. "Watch your mouth," he growled, low in his throat. "We aren't sleeping together but even if we were that wouldn't change the fact that he is twice the auror you will ever be." He took another step closer, "He's smarter, faster, and has better instincts. And everyone knows that your pathetic attempts to belittle him are out of jealousy. So you can fuck off before you make an even bigger arse of yourself."

"Alright," Ron said, holding out his hands between them. "That's enough."

Jenkins spat blood at Harry's feet but had the good sense not to say anything more as he left and slammed the door behind him.

Harry turned to see Malfoy storming away from him. "Malfoy," he shouted but the other man threw him a two fingered salute and stalked off.

"What the hell?" Harry grumbled.

(Read more below the cut)

Ron shrugged, "Beats me, mate." He slapped him on the shoulder, "but I wouldn't want to be going home with him. He looked pissed."

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

Regrettably Ron was right, Malfoy was pissed. Harry couldn't understand it and the other man wouldn't say a word to him about it.

They went home and Malfoy shut himself in the bedroom without a word, leaving Harry standing completely confused in the living room. "What the hell?" he repeated.

Hands on his hips, he stared off after the other man and replayed what he'd said to Jenkins for the fiftieth time, trying to figure out what had made Malfoy so mad.

Giving up on trying to puzzle it out seemed like the only course of action so he headed into the kitchen and started dinner. In the past week and a half, Draco had cooked, they'd cooked together, or ordered take out. Harry hadn't cooked anything on his own since he's arrived and honestly, he was glad for the chance to cooking now.

He chopped up an onion, diced a carrot, chopped up a stalk of celery, and minced several cloves of garlic. Then he turned to the stove and heated a frying pan, pouring in some olive oil before tossing in the veggies and letting them cook down while he chopped up lettuce for a salad.

After about ten minutes, he added the ground beef, salt, and pepper into the frying pan and uncorked a bottle of Merlot, pouring himself a generous glass and dumping a few ounces in with the beef and veg.

He cast a simple spell to keep the spoon stirring while the beef browned and he turned to cut up tomatoes and onions for the salad and made a simple vinaigrette. When the beef was brown and fragrant, he added in tomato paste, diced tomatoes, basil, oregano, and a dash of nutmeg before stirring it all together.

With a pleased hum, he put the lid on the pot and cast a spell that would condense the simmering time to about thirty minutes instead of three hours.

While the sauce cooked down he baked brownies, tossed the salad, and prepped the water and spaghetti. Boiling the spaghetti, cutting the brownies, and plating everything was easy after that. Harry topped the bowls of bolongese with freshly grated Parmesan and basil.

Then, after a moment of debate, he decided to bring dinner to Malfoy instead of the other way around and laid out their salads, bowls of bolognese, glasses of wine, and brownies onto a tray. He levitated it down the hall and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Malfoy called, sounding bored and detached and Harry had to take a steadying breath to tamp down the irritation that tone of voice invoked before opening the door.

"Made dinner," he said casually.

Malfoy turned his head from where he was laying on the bed, idly catching a snitch and releasing it. He sat up, his blonde hair trailing behind him, "It smells good."

"You don't need to sound surprised," Harry teased.

Malfoy opened his mouth to protest but Harry continued as he set the tray in the middle of the bed.

"I'm just kidding," he assured quickly.

"Do you really think that it's wise to consume red wine and pasta on a white bed?" Malfoy asked, one eyebrow arched at him as he climbed onto the bed across the tray from Malfoy.

"It'll be fine," Harry assured as he picked up his salad bowl and speared a tomato. "We're wizards, we'll magic it away if we must."

Malfoy hummed but picked up his own salad. "Thank you."

He shrugged a shoulder, "No problem. I like to cook, actually."

"Do you?" Malfoy asked curiously.

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Once we left Hogwarts and I was living on my own, I was eating out all the time and it wasn't doing me any favors. So I learned how to make some simple things that taste good." He tilted his head, "What about you? You're not a bad cook."

His cheeks turned a light pink and he cleared his throat, "That's Granger's doing actually."

"Sorry?"

He sighed, "She made a really good case about house elves. I didn't want to be who my parents wanted me to be so when I moved out and joined the aurors, I basically shunned anything that whiffs of pureblood bullshit. It has no place here," he said gesturing to his home with his fork.

Harry blinked, "That's amazing."

"Shut up."

"No, I'm serious," Harry said. "You're amazing and I had no idea."

"Stop," Malfoy said. "Please, it's not-"

"Is that what earlier was about?"

Malfoy stilled, "Excuse me?"

"Is that why you were upset?" he asked. "You thought that I was taking the piss?"

"I thought that you have an insufferable hero complex that makes me want to vomit," he growled.

"You're a hedgehog," Harry said, finally understanding.

Malfoy froze, "Who told you that?"

"Told me what?" Harry asked.

"That my patronus is a hedgehog," he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry laughed and Malfoy flushed cherry red, his eyes narrowed. "No, sorry," Harry said holding out a hand, "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing because I had no idea, honestly!"

"Then what made you say it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Just," he paused and took a bite of bolognese as he searched for the right words, "When you start to feel vulnerable or like someone is going to hurt you, you curl into this defensive ball that will stab at someone no matter what they say or do."

"I-"

"You are genuinely one of the best aurors in our class," Harry said earnestly, steering the conversation to something more tangible that they were less like to fight over. "I was serious."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "You're just saying that because the bond-"

He shook his head, "I've always thought that," he protested. "It's annoying as fuck because it always seems like everything comes so easily to you. I used to complain about it to Ron all the time."

"Says you," Malfoy protested. "You're always doing everything right; throwing yourself into danger to protect people." He shook his head, "By all accounts, what you do shouldn't work but it does. You're a good auror, Potter."

Harry swallowed, "Thanks, Malfoy. That means a lot coming from you."

"Yes, well," he said as he took a sip of wine, "Don't let it go to your head."

Harry chuckled and they took a few bites in companionable silence before Draco started to talk again.

"You didn't have to come to my rescue with Jenkins, you know."

He waved the thought away, "He's an arse. We've had it out before."

"I'm just saying," he argued, "I was fine. Honestly what he was saying wasn't even that bad."

"Not that bad?!" Harry yelped. "He-"

Malfoy shook his head, "It's the bond, Potter, don't you see that? Jenkins has said a lot worse, other trainees have said a lot worse, and you've never felt the need to jump in and defend my honor before."

Harry frowned.

"You're being swayed by what the bond wants you to feel about me."

"I'm not sure you're right," he said. "Because you shouldn't be treated like that at work. No one should be treated like that."

"Be that as it may-"

"I'm just saying, even if the bond brought it to my attention, I would have done that for anyone. If he'd been saying shite like that to Ron, I would have decked him, too."

Malfoy looked like he was going to argue with him, before visibly changing his mind, "You do have a wand, you know. There's no need to resort to brute force."

Harry shrugged, "But there's just something so satisfying about punching someone."

A laughed forced it's way up Malfoy's throat and Harry grinned at him. Shaking his head, Malfoy replied, "You're ridiculous. And this is good, by the way," he added, pointing to his pasta with his fork.

"Good," Harry said with a pleased little smile.

The conversation turned lighter as they bickered about the training exercises and the best approach, but the bickering held none of the animosity it had a week and a half before.

And Harry couldn't help but wonder how much of this was the bond's doing and how much was simply him.

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

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry #ficlet #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #enemies to friends #slow burn apparently #see you in part 4 tomorrow #domestic #cooking

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unohanadaydreams · 3 years

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Polyandrous, sexy, hot relationship between fem reader and Shinji, Rose and Kensei😈😈😈🔥🔥🔥 (sorry, I had a typo in the previous ask😓🤭🙃😄)

Oh my god. Like, imagine being the filling between three captains….real hot girl shit.

Features: Smut, a lil angst, and me bending my back to make these three bang reader and each other.

this is fantasy not a how-to guide on poly relationships thanks.

largely unedited bc its thirst post tower content, and pretty much all consent is implied instead of strictly stated. i checked with all 4 of them though and they told ME it’s consensual. Except Kensei. He told me to fuck off ):

Triple Threat Team-up

(Shinji Hirako x Rose Otoribashi x Kensei Muguruma x F!Reader):

How it seeded:

The relationship started with Rose. He wooed you with his flowery words and romantic fashion, paired well with his cool demeanor. Although some of his ideas on love are dated, he’s not one you could call traditional.

As a group, the vizards have endured much and gained little unless they gave to each other. When Shinji walks in on you and Rose naked, using his shunpo to grab a CD before leaving, you find it odd. Rose does not.

He admits that most of the vizards have been some form of...thing at some time in the past. “You can’t be too shocked,” he says. “It’s hard to stay warm in a warehouse.” The phrasing is odd, letting you know there’s something more he means than winter temperatures.

How it took root:

Shinji is odd too. Casual, yet guarded in a way that becomes awkward should he be forced to relax. There is always a joke or gross face or biting word that keeps him at a distance.

The trick is alcohol, like it is for most people. Rose displays you, a bloom with glistening petals and fragrant scent at every private party he arranges. And eventually, Shinji stops finding reasons to flee, his fingers skimming your petal-soft skin as he kisses Rose.

The two of you lure Shinji in, kissing him softly, feeding him well, and paying him attention when he knocks on the window. Who doesn’t love a stray coaxed into domestication?

Rose speaks like he’s telling a story, his eyes most often on yours, his calloused fingers feeling their way down your body until you have to break the eye contact. You never feel like he’s playing you--using you like one does an instrument--, not at all. If anything, you feel as though he’s teaching you a dance, his steady instruction bringing you to revelation each lesson.

Shinji’s eyes are always, always moving to drink in your body as he moves with you, his mouth just as restless. He can never settle on the perfect position, always toying with having more of his body on yours versus more of your body on display. Each time is a revolving puzzle of moments that end well and make him want to test again.

Together, they are easily overwhelming, even when their focus is on each other. Rose’s proclivity for words gets Shinji’s skin flushed as much as yours. Shinji’s restless approach to sex keeps your eyes excited, the play of their bodies combining with the rise and fall of their voices to make for a thrilling, climactic show.

How it sprouted:

If anyone has taken the repositioning to the Seireitei like a bullet, it’s Kensei. He’s not one for shows of sentimentality, leaving the vizards in the human world be, half to keep from missing them and half to stay sane away from them. And the separation feels cruel, a sloppy sever somewhere inside of him that he refuses to see.

The news of Rose and Shinji sharing you wrinkles his nose at first. Really? Is it some kind of middle finger to the “Man”? Seems ostentatious, how open they are about it, like shoving their tongues down your throat in his personal quarters is acceptable. Sure, he’s cooking with his full, undivided attention on the kitchen, but Kensei still has ears. No way would he purposefully hone in on the wet sounds and mewling of you being pressed in between their bodies in the other room as his sauce breaks.

After a sound lecture, Rose and Shinji seem to get the message. Sort of. The couple nights a week that they insist are Kensei’s turn to cook, a nostalgic bit that squeezes his heart enough to agree to, still happen. But it’s just you and Kensei.

And eventually, Kensei can’t help but ask the questions he wants to know, albeit fueled by visible frustration. It’s aggressive and a bit mocking, how he asks, but you answer freely. Which doesn’t help. Just like waking up wet in the pants and sweaty night after night at the thought of picking you up and fucking you in front of Shinji and Rose to teach them a lesson on home etiquette doesn’t help.

The need and want and well of shitty fucking loneliness comes to a head when Rose and Shinji invite themselves back to dinner one night, Shinji’s hand toying with your thigh as Rose whispers something that glazes your eyes.

One of the pots over boils when Shinji palms between your legs with one hand, his other coaxing a saucer of sake past your lips. Rose is between you and Shinji, his fingers kneading your waists.

That’s it, really. The food getting fucked over by his own inattention. The way your thighs are shaking as your kimono is un-tucked. The far too comfortable looks on Shinij and Rose’s degenerate fucking faces.

He makes what he’s been dreaming about for months into a reality, your squeaking morphing into low moans as he pounds into you, picking you up and away from the other two vizards each time they reach for you. They even beg a little and Kensei ignores their panting, their playing with one another, and pretends he’s teaching them a lesson.

How it blossomed:

Alcohol, food, and sex can’t soothe every tear, but they patch up enough to keep the wheels of your relationship greased. The sober statement that you are all in a relationship with each other does hit one of you with a splitting force at times. It’s not uncommon for someone to pull away, unsure how much their needed, wanted, or meant for such a thing.

But there are always enough hands to come around them, reassuring them back.

Kensei doesn’t lose his prickly sensibilities, almost never letting more than one of you touch him at once. He favors positions where he’s able to stand or kneel above one or two people, close enough be inside someone, but far enough to get away should be too much for him. Kensei is most uncomfortable fucking Rose; the dirty words constantly dripping from Rose’s lips and his eyes so focused on Kensei’s over stimulating. Kensei usually presses a hand over his face, muffling his look and words in one swift move.

He likes everyone having their place, approaching sex with three other people like a scene he’s seen before. Kensei loves attention, too. Rarely, he’ll let that show. Dropping his need to be in charge, he’ll let all three of you treat him to the full weight of your bodies and all that comes with it, usually three hands tugging cum to spill over his stomach as all of your mouths leave dark marks over the span of his body. Usually, he wants someone to drive into or a head to force deeper on his cock.

Rose loves those times the most, where everyone is stripped bare of their baggage, just bodies reaching for one another. Like those concerts where everyone is squished together, all feeling the music separately but together. His enjoyment of having some control is less about the power and more about the flow--it’s easier to make the ending come at just the right time when there isn’t a meaty hand squishing his face into the mattress. Anything that leaves his mouth free pleases him, especially if he’s able to drape himself over or in between bodies, guiding them closer to orgasm with verbal and physical encouragement.

Shinji doesn’t care about the positions or pace or anything outside of him being involved. He’s there and that’s vulnerability in itself. Saying that, the playing that thrills him most is the kind that makes him feel like he’s spilling over from contact alone. His body pressed under yours, his cock sliding at your back as you’re fucked above him. Or someone being hugged to him as he lays on his side, both he and them being fucked closer. His mouth is always happy to be at work, the flat of his tongue flicking his piercing over hot, puffy flesh.

Over all, your sex life probably has a color coated calendar--courtesy of Kensei--and you’re often doing overtime if you’re counting orgasms as work.

#my spine is damaged from making Kensei fit into this ;lkJSD:FLKJSDFLKj #kensei muguruma x reader #shinji hirako x reader #rose otoribashi x reader #bleach imagines #kensei muguruma #shinji hirako #rose otoribashi #bleach smut #thirst post tower #shinji and rose and reader being degenerates around kensei until he SNAPS #honestly even tho shinji can be prickly i feel like he's needy enough that at least he and Rose in a poly is super easy to make happen #Kensei is like the dude who you have to beg to please just PLEASE go to the party just this ONCE and you have to bribe him for 30 minutes #of his time

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system-threat-detected · 3 years

Text

Happy birthday @foibles-fables !!! Hope you enjoy these things Salty and I made for you :)

The below story was written by the wonderful @saltyseafuck as an accompanying piece to the art!

Aloy is comfortable enough in her own skin to make clambering out of her usual attire and into something else an easy affair. To her, it’s as easy as switching one style of arrow for another, or loading a different cartridge into her sling; the right tools, applied where they should be.

So while the noblewoman’s silks provided to her for the evening are not her standard choice of attire, and are… perhaps a bit more limiting than she might have liked, with their long, silken skirts and delicate, filigree jewelry, she adapts, fastening sashes and buckles, and squinting into the polished machine plating tacked to the wall as she applies the ceremonial markings to her forehead and eyes.

Stepping back and peering at her reflection, she nods to herself, picking up the matching headpiece, and holding it briefly to her brow, before finally discarding it on the bed.

She'll be more recognizable without it, anyway.

Easing the door to her quarters shut behind her as she steps onto the landing, she turns, raising a hand to knock on the door directly opposite hers.

“Done. Should we-”

Before her fist can make contact, the door jerks inward, slamming against the inner wall hard enough to make her jump. On the other side, tangled in the trailing silks of her dress, headpiece askew, Talanah glowers in her direction, resembling nothing so much as her title's namesake, complete with ruffled feathers and irate glare.

Pressing her already-raised knuckles to her lips, Aloy does her best to stifle her laughter.

“I’ve never seen you look this uncomfortable before, Talanah.”

Letting out a growl of annoyance, Talanah raises her arms in awkward protest, spreading them apart and letting the snarls of silk dangle.

“Not. A. Word.”

This time, Aloy fails to smother her laugh, nose wrinkling.

“You look like a Glinthawk. Here.”

Stepping forward and taking the scarf in both hands, she unwinds it from its snarl, threading its ends carefully through the loops of silk sewn into the dress's shoulders, and draping them artfully across her Hawk's upper arms.

As she reaches for the sash, smoothing the folded silk and cinching the ends around it, Talanah stiffens, pulling in a sharp breath. Pausing with the ends of the sash clutched in each hand, Aloy frowns.

“Too tight?”

Vehemently shaking her head, knocking her headdress even further askew, Talanah clears her throat, ducking her chin (and doing her best to try and hide the flush creeping across her cheeks and neck.)

“No! No, it’s ...fine. R... Remind me again why we're doing this?"

Tying off the sash and reaching up to adjust the headdress, Aloy raises a brow.

"Because, Marad asked us to. He thinks that having us there and visible will deter the elements he's tracking from acting tonight. We just have to be there, and be present... but that means we have to look the part."

Taking a step back to admire her handiwork, Aloy nods to herself, satisfied, before turning toward the stairs, and offering her arm to the Sunhawk, elbow crooked.

"All we have to do is survive a night at a high society party. Easy, compared to our usual exploits, right?"

With a shake of her head that sets the ornaments attached to the edges of her headdress dangling, Talanah takes the proffered arm, giving Aloy's bracer a sympathetic little pat.

"Ah, poor Thrush. You have no idea how wrong you are."

-----

Talanah has always done her utmost to avoid gatherings of Meridian's nobility. They've been an exercise in frustration for as long as she can remember; boring, stifling, and full of two-faced language, insults dealt from behind painted smiles, and barbed comments, tossed her way behind her back.

Tonight's gathering is no different; despite the quality of the musical entertainment and the refreshments, the people themselves have changed very little, and more than once, despite her attempts to keep to herself, she catches several muttered comments and judgements about her new position that she has to silence with a withering glare.

They're the same old infuriating bunch of bungheads, all right.

But perhaps the most frustrating part of the evening is watching the subtle snubs and digs that are being thrown Aloy's way.

Some of them pass over her head, whether through a lack of understanding or a lack of concern. But a few... a few land, and despite her attempts to shrug them off, or to play dumb... well...

Talanah has spent enough time around Aloy to know, by now, that the slight tightness in her shoulders and at the corner of her mouth, that the darts are finding their mark, worming their way into the cracks in her armor.

It's enough to make Talanah's blood boil, and her teeth grind together, rattling the arms of her headdress and setting the little ornaments dangling from their ends jittering.

She saves our asses from the Eclipse, rescues the Sun-King, and takes down Redmaw, and it still isn't enough for these chuffs. I have got to get her away from them. As soon as I can.

So as the musicians strike up an old, familiar tune, and her Thrush's conversational partners begin to drift away, seeking out new conversation or dancing companions, she seizes her chance to strike.

Downing the rest of her drink, she slams the flagon onto the nearest table with enough force to make the metal ring, stalking across the room to the edge of the dance floor, and extending her hand in Aloy's direction, elbow crooked, fingertips pointed toward the ceiling.

“May I have the honor, Aloy Despite the Nora?”

A light flush creeps onto Aloy's sun-weathered cheeks and, hesitantly, she reaches out to press her wrist against Talanah's.

“Umm… yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Even through two layers' worth of stiffened silk, she can hear Aloy's pulse quicken at the contact.

It quickly becomes apparent to Talanah that, despite her many talents, Aloy is not an experienced dancer. The tension in her movements, the rigidity of her stance, speak more of combat than of dance training.

And, judging by her persistent blush and the stricken look on her face, somewhere between panic and determination, Aloy knows it, too. Nodding as they circle in time to the rhythm, Talanah gives her an encouraging smile.

“Good. But loosen up a little. Now switch…”

Pivoting on her heel and glancing down at the placement of her steps, Aloy makes the transition more smoothly this time, pressing her lips together and frowning lightly in concentration. Again, Talanah favors her with a little nod.

“That’s right. You're doing great. Just keep your eyes on me.”

As they circle again, picking up the pace as the music begins to quicken, she leans in, conspiratorially, the ornaments on the edge of her headdress jingling lightly.

“Don’t listen to those bastards. They’ve always been like this. And they’re wrong, by the way; you’re fine.”

Once again, Aloy flushes, cheeks coloring as red as her hair.

“I… don't need their opinion-”

Talanah cuts her off with a sharp tap, rapping her knuckles twice against the silk of her sleeve to catch her attention.

“Hey. Listen. You’re fine. All right?”

Hopefully, hopefully, Aloy will pick up on her meaning.

Judging by the way the tension that’s been building in her Thrush’s shoulders all night drains, like the air hissing out of a punctured Longleg sac, she does, and Talanah is gratified to see the corners of her mouth ease into a smile, instead of a twitchy grimace.

“Yeah. ...thank you.”

This time, when they turn, pivoting around each other again and pressing their hands together, her fingertips twine briefly with Talanah’s, and she feels her own face heat at the touch.

Clearing her throat, as much to distract herself from the sensation of those calloused fingertips ghosting lightly over her knuckles as to change the subject, she leans in again, putting on a challenging little smirk.

“So, what do you think? Have you got a tie-down on it? Should we show them how it’s done?”

And this time, Aloy answers with an eager grin.

“Yeah. Yeah, I... think I’d like that.”

#I expect to hear your dying shrieks soon :)#aloy #talanah khane padish #hawk and thrush #mine #saltyseafuck #my art #hzd #horizon zero dawn

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cinnamonrusts · 3 years

Text

-- "sorry, ethan" [ WARNING: LIGHT SPOILERS FOR BEGINNING SCENE OF RE8: VILLAGE - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK ] [warnings: mentions of violence]

you check in on the winters family in europe and when the evening is interrupted - you come face to face with a face that you’ve not seen in a long time. [chris redfield x reader]

✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

The BSAA gifted you the task of ensuring that the Winters family was adjusting well to their new lives in seclusion. The alliance uprooted their everything they knew and placed them in a cold area in Europe where snow covered each corner of the ground. Ethan and Mia were initially troubled by this idea but you promised them that it was the best thing for them to do. It wasn’t your idea, though. Chris Redfield, your ex-boyfriend, was the one who orchestrated them to move -- for their own safety.

But you didn’t hear from Chris since then. He disappeared from your life and it had been a long, long time since you’d seen each other. Where was he? What was he doing? You weren’t sure if you’d ever see his handsome face again...

✧.*

It was your first ever visit to their home in Europe and you could smell the aroma of Mia’s new learned cuisine that were native to the local area. “Will you be the taste tester for Mia, while I put little Rose to bed?” Ethan asked as he held his sleeping infant close to his chest. Her chubby face was soft and content as she drifted off into another realm of slumber. “As long as she doesn’t poison me for helping to bring you guys here!” you joked as you followed the brunette woman into their large kitchen.

“Now, [Y/N]. How many times do I have to tell you?! We’re adjusting here quite well,” she walked directly to the stove and hovered over a boiling pot, then took a deep breath in. “Well, I’m glad to hear that...” you sighed in relief - you couldn’t imagine how it felt to move across the ocean. Mia smiled as she took the ladle in her palm and stirred the orange liquid, which caused the steam to roll into the air and then to your face. You too took a deep inhale and your stomach growled loudly as a result. Mia chuckled, “Sounds like someone is hungry.” Your hand went to your belly and you groaned, “That’s an understatement. I have the worst jet lag on Earth right now and that smells amazing.”

Ethan soon returned and informed the two of you that Rose was “sleeping like a baby”. Mia brought over the boiling pot to the kitchen island and when Ethan tried taking a bite before she was ready, the back of his hand got a whap from her metal spoon. “It’s Ciobra de Legume. It’s a local recipe. But it’s not ready yet,” Mia let the pot to cool before the three of you would eat and took your hand in hers to lead you to the dining room that was attached to the kitchen, “Please, sit.” she instructed as Ethan brought three wine glasses to the table. “If Ethan’s going to sulk all night. Maybe we should enjoy the wine instead.” You obeyed her request and took a seat to her left.

✧.*

Not long after an argument brewed between the two of them. Ethan was insistent that they needed to talk about what happened in Louisiana, but Mia firm on her opinion that they just needed to forget about it and move on. You sat in silence across from Ethan as you watched Mia grow frustrated with his behavior. She raised her hands, “I don’t understand why you are so --,” just before she could finish her sentence, a bloody hole formed in her shoulder. It was no “hole” but a bullet wound. As it dawned on you what it was, you immediately pushed your chair back with all your might and hit the deck just as Ethan yelled to get down. However, Mia did not in time and soon was full of holes from the many weapons that fired into the home from outside. The flashes from the muzzles light up the dark house house like a macabre strobe light show and the sounds of Ethan’s yelling was muffled out by the roar of the automatic firearms.

The initial panic that enveloped your mind soon faded and when you reached for your own weapon -- it was apparent that your handgun was nowhere nearby but in the room in the upper floor, so, Ethan and yourself were defenseless against whoever it was that attacked the Winters home. You looked into Ethan’s panicked eyes as they darted from you to his most likely deceased wife on the floor. As quickly as it started, the flying bullets ceased and you could hear the sound of heavy boots on the wooden flooring, then followed by silence.

The table that was once your shelter was pushed to the side and you were exposed to a man in black. Despite all the years of your BSAA training, you were frozen in your tracks, your eyes did not move from the black shoes of the person who stood before you. “Chris!? What the hell!” Ethan yelled. When you heard the name, your blood ran cold and you went from afraid to confused. Your eyes moved from the floor upward and met the cold stare of the man that you once found yourself to love. “Sorry, Ethan.” was all he said, he didn’t even acknowledge you, but instead he pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Mia’s unmoving body. “No!” you screamed as you leaped toward him to smack the weapon from him to spare her. The two of you struggled over dominance of the weapon for a brief amount of time, but Chris pushed you out of the way with barely any effort. It didn’t hurt when you hit the ground because he did not use his full strength but you were still stunned. You tried to get to your feet fast enough to stop him again but just when you were able to be in arms length, Chris released several rounds quickly into Mia’s limp body.

Your knees felt weak and buckled from beneath you. Mia, Ethan, and now Rose were the three people in the world that you were supposed to keep safe but now -- now Mia was dead and anything you tried to do was useless. Even worse, she was taken down by the one person you believed would do the right thing -- someone you trusted with your life, but now he took the life of someone you cared for.

Redfield caught you before you could go down to the floor. His arm was wrapped around your waist and his palm was flat against your pelvis. He looked into your eyes and they held you in place. They were the same eyes that you remembered and adored, but -- you didn’t think you could forgive him for his actions. A silence held in the air between the two of you but your attention was stolen from Chris when Ethan let out several curses and yells in the direction of your former acquaintance.

✧.*

You proceeded then to shove Chris away from you and once you did so, you took several steps back to only bump into one of the cronies dressed in black that helped murder Mia. The man placed a firm hand on your shoulder which you shrugged off, and Chris attempted to do the same but you stopped him with a pointed finger. “Don’t.” you sneered, “Not now.” Chris complied and walked toward the entrance to the ruined home. You allowed Chris’s teammates to take you under their custody...

Chris’s guards pushed you and Ethan in the same direction but sectioned you off away from the poor man. “What’re you doing, Chris?!” you yelled as you tried to grab for the blonde but Chris pushed you back to the wall beside the staircase. The sound of Rose’s cries grew louder as a masked guard brought her down the stairs, then placed the infant in Chris’s arms. “Doing what I need to”, he paused before he gave a nod, “take Ethan away.” Winters was not about to let Chris and his goons take Rose away from him, especially after just murdering his wife. So, Redfield instructed one of his men to knock him out with the butt of his firearm once he showed a struggle. You watched Ethan hit the floor with a thud and be dragged away. How could Chris do this? Treat the people he helped take care of so cruelly?

“Come on,” Chris said as he turned to leave. “What makes you think I’m going with you?” a scoff left your lips. He grew silent before he cornered you in the doorway, baby still crying in his arms. “You’re welcome to stay here then,” Chris turned away again but you pulled him back with force, your eyes fixated on Rose. “Where have you been? You left me without a word and now-now, this!?.” he didn’t answer but walked toward the caravan that he arrived in, you followed after him quickly with anger, your gaze returning to the distraught infant and asked the same question several times.

Chris raised his voice at you to silence, “I will explain it all once we arrive at our checkpoint.” His tone dropped, maybe he felt bad for his reaction to your questions -- so, he proceeded to place his gloved hand on your bicep and gave it a squeeze.

Unfortunately for everyone, no questions were able to be answered because the caravan was never able to reach said checkpoint according to plan.

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #chris redfield x reader #reader x chris redfield #chris redfield/reader #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #chris redfield

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comfortbucky · 3 years

Note

Hey! Can i request a cold, lonely ex-hydra reader × bucky who falls in love with her. Adding some panic attacks and nightmares of the reader.

i love this idea!!! thank u for submitting🥰

𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗲 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: avenger!bucky x ex-HYDRA!fem!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers, angst (if u squint), soft!bucky

warnings: canon level violence, description of injuries, blood is mentioned, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares

A/N: i just came up with a random name for the HYDRA leader the reader is after🤣 so just ,,, ignore // also!!!! i tried out a different writing style than what i’m used to! hope u don’t mind🥺 just been feeling like a lot of my writing is the same and wanted to try something new!!!

word count: 3.5k (this is so long LMAO sorry 😭 literally why am i like this)

my masterlist!

completed requests!

The suit that you once considered a second skin, now felt uncomfortable and constricting, like a python squeezing the life out of you. Although, it made sense since the very organization of the uniform you were wearing did exactly that.

HYDRA.

For so long you were just another mindless pawn to them, just doing without every actually thinking. Unlike your younger brother, Alex. They indoctrinated him as well, getting a hold of both of you from a young age, but he was there when Captain America took down S.H.I.E.L.D. and it changed his entire worldview. You found everything he said about “freedom” to be stupid, naive, and dangerous. And you would later prove yourself correct.

You pull yourself from your thoughts as a group of HYDRA soldiers walk past the shrubbery you hid behind. Quickly and quietly, you get up and join them as they march towards the HYDRA base. As soon as you get inside, you manage to slip away from the rest of the group to search for your target.

Since HYDRA took the possibility of you ever having a normal life away, as far as you were concerned, your only purpose in life was to kill the man who was at the center of it all, Viktor Cross. And after months of tracking him down, formulating the perfect plan, that’s exactly what you were going to do today.

You make your way towards one of the main lab facilities, gun in hand when you see several unconscious guards lying on the floor in front of you. Shifting your gaze up, you see that the door has been ripped open, grip marks on the sides.

This was not part of the plan.

As you squeeze through the open door and enter the lab, you come to a halt, frozen in shock. There’s your target, Viktor, shoved against the wall by none other than Captain America himself. You almost let out a chuckle in disbelief at the irony of the situation. Instead, you take a step forward, and the glass cracks beneath your feet, alerting the men of your presence.

Shit.

Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. Viktor’s lips curve into a smirk as you make your way to them.

“Agent- Miss Y/N,” he corrects himself. “What a pleasant surprise.” You ignore him and look to address Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America.

“Let him go and give him to me,” you start, Steve eyeing you cautiously. “So I can kill him,” you snarl, quickly turning to Viktor to see that his smirk had been wiped off his face.

“Aren’t you HYDRA?” He questions, nodding to your suit and eliciting a cackle from Viktor.

“Not anymore,” you mumble, before lifting a leg to kick Steve in his side. You hit him across the face with the end of your gun for good measure. He stumbles over, giving you enough time to grab Viktor’s collar, before he falls to the floor, and slam him back against the wall. His eyes are full of desperation and you felt nothing but pure, burning rage. You shove the barrel of your gun under his chin and place your hand on the trigger.

“You were such a gifted agent, Y/N. Don’t throw away such potential, come back.”

“Go to hell.”

Before you could pull the trigger, a force propels you to the ground and you feel a sharp pain in your side. Silence and then ringing fills your eyes as you squint your eyes to try and visualize the situation. Your vision is blurry, but clear enough to clouds of smoke engulf Viktor’s figure as he escapes. A muffled voice from behind you speaks, but you can’t make out any of the words they’re saying. You look down to see red. Just crimson red, staining your abdomen. Hands land on your shoulders, shaking you gently as your vision fades to black.

Viktor is in front of you, the barrel of his gun directed right at your head. He smirks as he moves his hand to the trigger.

“Hail, HYDRA.”

A gunshot goes off, forcing you to shoot up in bed, gasping for air. As you start to regain your senses, you realize you’re surrounded by a group of strangers. Well, not complete strangers, the Avengers to be exact. Part of your job required you to study their files, learn everything about them. You could recite from memory where and when they were born, their greatest strengths and weaknesses. Suddenly, your side starts to burn with pain, and you carefully lean back in bed. There’s an array of wires and tubes connected to you and you hear the rhythmic beeping of various machines. You’re in a hospital, or some sort of medical facility.

“That, is exactly why I said we should use restraints.”

You’re staring at the ceiling when you hear Iron Man, AKA Tony Stark, speak.

“Tony, she lost a liter of blood, she’s not going anywhere.”

Steve appears in your view, looking down at you.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

You shift your gaze away from him. The last thing you expected to come out of this mission was to meet the Avengers, let alone them save you.

Steve sighs, “We’re not gonna hurt you. We wanna find Viktor too.”

There’s nothing he could say that could get you to speak. Your hatred for HYDRA didn’t mean you suddenly liked the Avengers. If anything, they were part of the problem too, so you stay silent.

“Told you, she’s not gonna talk,” Tony quips. From your research, you had come to learn that he was an arrogant man, and his statement only proved you right. “Maybe you should get Manchurian Candidate to come down, give her an ex-HYDRA buddy,” he says sarcastically.

Upon hearing “ex-HYDRA buddy,” you furrow your brows. Maybe it was the lack of blood in your body, but it took you a second to process his words and understand who he was referring to. Your eyes dart back to look at Steve’s but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back.” His voice trails off as he exits the room.

You’re still staring at the ceiling when you hear footsteps return and then several others departing.

There’s only one other person in the room beside you. Without even looking up, you already know who it is. His breathing was slow and steady until you started to shift in bed to reposition yourself. His breath hitched for a moment, before returning back to his normal breathing pattern.

“Killing him isn’t gonna make you feel better.” His comment makes you roll your eyes as you slowly sit up to look at him. There were no logical thoughts in your head, all you could feel was pain and fury. Anger swelled within you, your emotions boiling over.

“That’s rich, coming from the Fist of HYDRA,” you spat out. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt your stomach drop. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one you hadn’t felt in a while. What was it? Regret?

Bucky’s face fell but he kept his eyes on you. It was a look that made you feel worse, worse than the searing pain in your side.

“I’m not a killer anymore,” he said in a tone so gentle, you felt another strange, new emotion but couldn’t quite label it. You quickly shift gears to avoid addressing the uncomfortable feelings swirling around in your stomach.

“Are you keeping me hostage to lure Viktor in? Because it's not going to work." Bucky shook his head.

"We want..." he trailed off, causing you to tilt your head in curiosity. “We need your help finding him.” You scoffed.

“What do I get out of it?” Bucky’s silence gave you your answer. Shaking your head, you start to disconnect yourself from the multitude of wires attached to you and get out of bed.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he started, as you threw off your blanket and sat on the edge of the bed.

Standing up quickly, the blood from your head pooled in your legs, causing you to feel dizzy. Your head spun and your arms reached out for something, anything stable to grab onto. It was a metal hand. Despite it being cool to the touch, it ignited a heat to rise to your cheeks. You look down and mumble a thank you as Bucky helps you back into bed.

Letting out a sigh, you realize with the condition you’re in, you can’t leave. Definitely not well enough to go after Viktor alone. Shutting your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, you curse under your breath.

“Fine,” you finally speak, keeping your eyes closed. Bucky nods, even though you don’t see, and you hear him walk off.

After a couple days of rest, you were cleared by Bruce to get discharged. Viktor had gone deep in hiding, making your job to find him a lot harder. Tony had so graciously given you an extra room in the tower, right next to Bucky’s. He was probably the one person you saw the most, purely due to location, and the fact that everyone else cautiously kept their distance from you. It made sense though, since you rarely spoke to anyone and spent most of your time in the lab looking for any clues of Viktor’s location. When you weren’t searching for him, you were training in the gym. Bucky was there a lot too, both of you waking up at ungodly hours of the morning. No words were ever exchanged between the two of you, and yet, there was some level of comfort you felt being around him. Must’ve been an ex-HYDRA thing.

“What’s on your mind?” You walk over to Alex and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He sighs.

“What if,” he starts, furrowing his brows. “What if freedom is good?” He speaks quietly, fearful of HYDRA listening in on your conversation.

It feels like you’ve got the wind knocked out of you.

“Alex,” you grab him by the shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?” You’re searching his eyes, trying to understand what’s gotten into him.

“Captain America.” The biggest threat to HYDRA’s existence. He looks down at his hands. “He was willing to risk his life for it. It has to be worth something right?” Alex looks back up to you with a look in his eyes that you haven’t seen since you were children. Uncertainty. You sigh and pull him into your chest, stroking his hair.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Maybe.”

You wake up in a cold sweat, panting. Hot tears fall from the corners of your eyes. It’s the same dream you’ve had for the last week. Although, you wouldn’t consider it a dream necessarily, but it wasn’t a nightmare either. Just a bittersweet memory.

Bucky could tell that something was up with you for the past week. Despite having gone through a bit of therapy, Steve’s idea, the nightmares still came to him. So Bucky was already wide awake when he heard your weeping on the other side of the wall. It didn’t help that he was also a light sleeper with super-soldier hearing. He didn’t know what was causing you to be so upset, but he didn’t want to intrude and ask. Neither of you had spoken to the other since you first arrived.

But this night was different from the rest. Usually, you would flip endlessly through channels on ur TV until you eventually fell asleep, but it wasn’t working this time. There’s a tight pain in your chest and suddenly, you’re suffocating. You rip off your covers and spring out of bed, tripping on your blankets along the way. At this point, you don’t even register the pain of slamming down, face-first on the ground. Panic has taken over your body, tears now streaming down your face. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping for relief.

He wasn’t planning on doing anything until he heard a loud thud from your room. Immediately, Bucky gets up and arrives at your door. It’s rude to just barge into someone’s room, his mom taught him that from a young age, so he settles on knocking. You don’t hear it though, the only sound you hear is the sound of your rapid breathing as you hyperventilate. Bucky hears it too and ultimately decides on inviting himself into your room.

“Y/N?”

You’re lying on your side, curled up in a fetal position with your hands covering your face, when Bucky opens the door. He quickly arrives by your side, kneeling beside you, as he examines you for any injuries.

“Are you hurt?”

You manage to shake your head in response, anxiety still flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, Bucky’s familiar with panic attacks, having had them himself. But he also knows that everyone deals with them a bit differently. Guess he did manage to learn some useful things from therapy.

“Can you try breathing with me?”

He starts to take deep breaths in and out until he sees you start to follow along with him, your hands still covering your face. There’s a part of you that feels stupid for keeping them there, but they help ground you, so you continue to shield your face. After what feels like an hour, but was probably only 10 minutes, your panic subsides. That’s when a wave of embarrassment hits you, realizing that it had been Bucky with you during your panic attack.

Slowly removing your hands from your face, you’re greeted by piercing blue eyes. You blink a couple times, realizing that Bucky had taken a spot on the ground, lying on his side to face you, his hands pressed together under his head like a pillow. He smiles and you feel warm. It’s terrifying, the new feelings that Bucky has caused you to feel and yet, you don’t mind.

“You feelin’ better?” You nod and smile back, something you haven’t genuinely done in a while.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

You stare at each other in silence, lying side by side. There’s no physical touch involved but somehow, this moment, it feels intimate. Bucky breaks the silence.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He speaks in a voice so soft, it almost sounded like a whisper.

It might’ve been the fact that he just calmed you down from a panic attack, but as you looked into his eyes, you felt the walls you had built up for the last year slowly come crashing down.

“He killed my brother,” you reply, maintaining your eyes on Bucky. You searched his eyes for any fear or pity, but all you could find was a look of understanding. His eyes were starting to become a safe place for you.

“Alex was there when Steve took down S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA along with it. He wanted out, out of the organization.” Taking a deep breath, you continue. “Word got around about a “rat,” so I took the blame. Viktor was about to shoot me when Alex’s dumbass ran in front of me, sacrificing himself.” You let out a chuckle, your vision getting blurry as tears swelled in your eyes. “He was a goddamn idiot, but he also had a heart of gold.”

As you start to cry, Bucky hesitatingly extends an arm to hover over your body, trying to gauge your reaction. Physical touch was something he struggled with during the beginning of his recovery, and he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. He’s reassured when you grab onto his shirt and pull yourself closer to him, and wraps an arm around you, his other hand softly stroking your head.

You hadn’t cried like this since Alex died, bottling up all of your emotions to focus on finding the man responsible for his death. But as you sobbed into Bucky’s chest, you realize that your love for Alex had transformed into an ugly, burning hatred for Viktor. He wouldn’t want this. You didn’t want it, at least, not anymore. The only thing you wanted was your brother back, and that was impossible.

Bucky held you in his arms until you fell asleep, listening to the sounds of your slow, rhythmic breathing, dozing off shortly after.

That night with Bucky had softened your cold, hard exterior that you initially presented yourself with. You would willingly spar with Nat in the training room and join the team for breakfast or dinner. Everyone noticed and, while at first thrown off by it, happily embraced it. Especially Bucky.

Initially, he got up to work out in the early hours of the morning as a habit. Now, he woke up to see you. His heart did flips in his chest every time he walked in the gym and saw you. Since that night, you started to acknowledge his presence, turning to smile and wave as he walked through the doors. It was something he looked forward to every day.

During the day, you were focused hard on tracking down Viktor and Bucky knew that. But he also knew he wanted to spend more time with you. He looked for reasons to enter the lab, whether it was offering snacks to you throughout the day or helping Bruce or, even Tony. Anything to see you again.

Bucky realized that there was a deeper, stronger emotion that he felt for you when he would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. The first thing he thought about was you. Specifically, how you were the only thing that could possibly calm him down. Although he’d come in that night to help you with your panic attack, you ended up helping him as well. He hadn’t slept as soundly and peacefully as he did with you. And you hadn’t either. There were several nights when neither of you could sleep and ended up running into each other. It slowly became a routine that would begin in the kitchen, exchanging life stories, and end on the couch in the common area, entangled in each other’s arms.

Tonight you didn’t show up and Bucky panicked. He stared at the kitchen clock. It had been 20 minutes and you still hadn’t shown up. Bucky racked his brain for anything he could’ve done to scare you off, but came up with nothing. It wasn’t like you two had been officially together, Bucky had no idea what you were to each other. All he knew is that he wanted to be with you, always.

You were soundly asleep in bed, passing out as soon as your head hit the pillow. It was a particularly physically exhausting day for you, training with both Nat and Steve.

Bucky was so caught up with the thoughts racing through his head, he hadn’t noticed that his feet had taken him right to your door. He stands there for a moment, silently debating what to do. Grumbling under his breath, he musters up the courage to knock on your door. Right as he was about to turn away and shuffle off to his room, your door opens. You greet him with a yawn and a tired smile.

“Oh, hey Bucky.”

He looks at the bags under your eyes and feels instant regret wash over him, realizing that you weren’t avoiding him, but just getting some sleep.

“Sorry,” he looks down at his feet. You frown and place a hand on his cheek to lift his head up.

“Something wrong?” He avoids your gaze, partially because he’s embarrassed and partially because his cheeks were turning red because of your touch.

“No.” You cross your arms and let out a sigh.

“You’re a bad liar.” It’s his turn to sigh, as he scratches the back of his head.

“You didn’t come to the kitchen,” he lets out, in almost a whisper. It hits you. You were so tired, you had completely forgotten about your nightly tradition. “It’s stupid, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up," he mumbles. Bucky begins to walk off but you grab his hand. When he turns to look at you, his brows are raised at your touch.

As you start to speak, you pull him close, facing you. “It’s not stupid.” His hands move to hold your waist as yours move to wrap around his neck. You pause, an idea popping into your head. “I’m kind of tired from training today, wanna just come sleep with me?” He nods and you drag him to your bed, nestling into his arms as he holds you to his chest, his chin resting above your head. You tilt your head back to see him looking down at you. There’s a fluttering feeling in your chest and you smile.

“Just for future reference, you have an open invitation to cuddle with me, anytime.” Bucky chuckles at your offer.

“I’ll keep that in mind, doll.”

Bucky cups your face in his hand and you nuzzle your cheek in his palm. His eyes dart down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

Then, the most delicate, sweetest kiss you’ve ever received is on your lips.

You flutter your eyes open as you both pull apart. He quickly kisses your nose before pulling you back into his chest, speaking softly.

“And you have an open invitation to kiss me, anytime.”

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hongism · 4 years

Text

volume up - p. seonghwa 18+

day 7: public sex - park seonghwa warning: explicit smut, unprotected sex, public sex, dirty talk, exhibitionisn, creampie, sex in a karaoke room, daddy kink, breeding/impregnation kink, if u squint corruption kink wc: 1.8k genre: pwp, smut, 18+

If you had to pick one thing about Seonghwa that you love the most, it would be an easy answer. His voice. Everything about him is near perfect in your mind, but his voice has always stood out to you more than anything else. Not in a sappy, ‘I’m only saying this because we’re together’ sort of way. Rather, in the way where you could sit at the back of a karaoke room and listen to him sing for hours on end. That’s exactly what you are doing right now in fact — well, that’s what you were doing approximately ten minutes ago. Now, Seonghwa has you pressed to the back of the couch you’re sitting on, lips teasing the shell of your ear. You’re too lost in the heat of pleasure and arousal to think about how the hell you got in this position. When you’re more coherent though, you’re certain it will all boil down to the fact that Seonghwa was being a bit too sultry in his rendition of Taemin’s Move.

For now, you are more than happy to settle on the fact that Seonghwa’s lips are moving down the length of your neck and coming to a halt near the start of your collarbone. He nips at the skin, not hard enough to make you bleed, but just enough pressure to cause your nerves to light up with the sensation. You shift your hands to rest against his waist and try to twist his body. You don’t have enough strength to do so, however, so instead, you have to pull Seonghwa’s head back with your hand.

“Let me ride you,” you demand, whispering the heated words to his lips. Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Music still plays in the background, not loud enough to drown out your words, but loud enough for the bass to thrum in your veins.

“That’s rather bold seeing as we’re still in public,” he murmurs in response, but he doesn’t pull away from you. A breath of hesitation follows, then his warm breath cascades over your face once more. “Unless that’s why you want to do it.”

You don’t offer a strict yes or no confirmation, instead balling the material of his shirt in your fists and twisting until he now has his back against the booth. You throw a leg over his thighs and straddle him in an instant. You’re almost certain that you can feel your own arousal radiating off you in waves, but the look in Seonghwa’s eyes shows you that you aren’t alone in the feeling. He braces his hands on your hips.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he hums before tugging at the zipper of your shorts. You sit up for him, letting his hands do all the work and maneuver you however he needs to in order to toss the clothing off to the side. He doesn’t reach for your underwear though – a pretty lace pair that you know he loves – and you’re about to question him about it when he catches your curiosity. “We’ll keep those on just in case someone walks in. Can’t give them the privilege of seeing my princess fully undressed, no?”

My princess. The words cause the knot of arousal to tighten further, and you waste no time in reaching for his zipper as well. His erection strains behind it, throbbing already even though you’ve barely done anything more than a bit of kissing and grinding. Seonghwa rushes to help you and pulls his pants down just enough to let his cock loose.

“Can’t wait to have your cock inside me,” you whine as you grip the base of his leaking member. Dragging your hand up, you trace over his slit with your index finger and collect a bit of the precum there. A giggle falls from your lips when you bring that same finger to your tongue, arching a brow at Seonghwa while he watches on in a state of stunned silence. It takes several seconds, but he recovers and squeezes hard at your waist.

“You’re too much of a tease, baby girl. Just want me to ruin you anywhere and everywhere, huh?” He growls before pulling you flush against his chest. His tongue flicks over the junction of your neck and shoulder, teasing the skin there a few times before he latches on with his teeth. Your following moan is far too loud for safety, and you can only hope that the music is loud enough to drown it out. Instinctively, you clench your fingers around Seonghwa’s cock. The action elicits a moan from him as well, though he does a much better job at keeping the sound relatively contained.

“Fuck me, Hwa. I’m tired of waiting.”

“I should teach you a lesson in patience instead.” Seonghwa tsks but brings a hand down to shove your underwear to the side. There’s already a damp spot on your underwear from where some of your juices have leaked out, and Seonghwa inhales sharply as his fingers run over that wetness. “So wet already? Shame on you, princess. Not so innocent and pure after all, is it?” The words have you squirming in his lap; all the power and control you exuded earlier has gone out the window. It takes a split second for Seonghwa to gain control, and less than that for him to make you a writhing mess with only his words. “Hm, it seems like that’s it. The idea of having my dick in you makes you such a needy cockslut. How precious.”

“Pl-Please…” you trail off, unable to finish the thought without embarrassment overtaking your senses. Seonghwa pulls away from your neck to look you in the eye, but you can’t match his intense gaze. It’s Seonghwa’s turn to arch a brow, and a smirk stretches his lips a little wider.

“What is it, baby girl? What do you need me to do?” Your hand falls away from his cock and settles on his hip, chest rising and falling unevenly as you dare to look him in the eye.

“I need you to fuck me, Daddy,” you whisper. Seonghwa’s pupils expand a bit at your words, and his Adam’s Apple bobs a bit as he swallows around nothing. “Fill me up and fuck me until I’m full of your cum. Wanna feel you in me for days. Breed me like the bitch I am.” Seonghwa grips you tighter until you can feel his cock twitching against your stomach.

“Fuck, in public of all places,” Seonghwa hisses. He fumbles to lift your hips and settle his member between your legs, tip teasing your entrance with the lightest pressure. Despite his fervent movements, he penetrates you slowly and stretches you open inch by inch unit he’s fully settled in your tight walls. “You’re so tight, shit.” You wiggle a little on his lap, trying to get more comfortable but it only causes more strain to his weeping cock. “H-Hold on, princess, hold on. Don’t move yet, don’t move.”

“I’m ready for you to fuck me,” you protest. You throw a small pout out to accentuate your words in the hopes that Seonghwa will fall for your pleading eyes. It works like a charm because a moment later, Seonghwa rolls his hips against yours. His length presses deeper in you but it’s not enough for either of you. You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, shifting your weight onto your knees so that he can fuck up into you with more force and ease. The new angle has you seeing stars, and just bracing yourself on his shoulders isn’t enough to keep you upright. You drop your head to Seonghwa’s shoulder, moaning into the skin rather than the open air.

“You’re so desperate for Daddy’s cock that you’ll take it anywhere,” Seonghwa groans, words caressing your hairline.

“I-I’m a good s-slut for you, Daddy.”

“Yes, baby girl, such a good slut taking my dick so well.” You drop your hips back onto his cock and try to match the brutal pace he’s started. Seonghwa guides you through the thrusts. The lewd sound of skin slapping skin fills the air, even though the two of you try to keep the volume of your moans to a minimum, you can’t conceal the sound of your fucking. Seonghwa drops a hand to the couch and fumbles around for a few moments without losing his pace for a second. Taemin’s vocals increase in volume, pulsing louder in your ears, and you’ve lost track of how many times the sound has played on repeat in the background.

Your body remains alight with pleasure, walls clenching hard around Seonghwa as he continues to ram against your sweet spot time and time again. For a moment, you forget where you are and lose yourself completely in the addicting feeling of Seonghwa’s cock gliding in and out of your hole. You wish you could say something other than ‘yes’ but that seems to be the only word in your vocabulary in the heat of the moment. Seonghwa only makes your sanity devolve further into nothingness as he continues to whisper pure filth into your ear.

“You’re such a whore for my cum. Just want me to breed you like a bitch in heat.” That alone is nearly enough to bring you over the edge, but you cling to him a little tighter and attempt to stave off the orgasm as long as you can.

“Fu-uck me full of your cum, Daddy. I want my – ah, m-my tummy to swell with your cum,” you babble. Seonghwa takes control of your hips, and you’re grateful for it because you can’t keep the pace up any longer thanks to your aching muscles.

“Cum for me first, princess.”

It’s all the permission you need to let go, and your lips fall open in a silent scream as you reach your high. Seonghwa fucks you through it, pace slowing down considerably as not to overwhelm you, but you can tell that he’s about ready to burst at the seams himself. It doesn’t last much longer than that, and Seonghwa pulls you all the way down before spilling his hot seed inside you. The sensation combined with your still-rolling orgasm has your vision blurring at the edges. That darkness lingers until your high passes, and when you finally come down, Seonghwa is there to greet you with a hasty kiss on the lips.

“You’d better hope you can keep all my cum in you until we get home,” he says, pulling back just enough to breathe the words.

“And if I don't?”

“I don’t think you’ll particularly enjoy not cumming for a week, will you?”

...

a/n: hi @beefyjoon ily i hope u enjoy :3

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

Note

I’m going to try come up with other ideas lol but these jumped out at me. I would absolutely use these for something! I’m saving them too because I just might!

But if you feel like it, these combined scenarios could be really fun for a sarcastic, grouchy ass Flip or Kylo AU. It could be anything from enemies to antagonists to the guy being in trouble with you currently from doing stupid shit and trying to make up with you! Anything you think!

your enemy has been badly wounded, and somebody needs to bandage them up, so you agree to help them, and suddenly they're shirtless, and you can't help but admire their body, something this cheeky motherfucker takes notice of

there's only one bed, but this time, they're arguing over who should sleep on the floor, which nobody agrees to, so instead they end up sharing, incredibly annoyed over having to share their space (it’s not like friends to lovers, in which they both awkwardly get into bed. this is straight up just. i will set this bed on fire if you don’t stay on your side)

The Longest Knight {Sir Kylo Ren x Reader}

author's notes: hello, hello! shannon, dear, you always seem to know what I'm in need of when you send requests in. I've been dying for an excuse to write some medieval/knight Kylo, and this fits in perfectly with that AU, so thank you! <3

**THERE ARE SOME DARK(ER) THEMES IN THIS STORY, BUT ONLY AT THE VERY BEGINNING (there’s an indicator of when the dark content ends, in bold, you can’t miss it). PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND TW’S BEFORE PROCEEDING!**

warnings: some angst. some gore. some fluff. smut. enemies-with-benefits. sex w/o feelings. kylo is a huge douche (but in, like, a lowkey sexy way).

tw's: (at the very beginning): dead bodies & blood, vivid depictions of wounds/injuries, brief depictions of battle, implied (battle-related) murder. mentions of sex work (later on in the story, not relating to the reader character).

word count: 4.4k

terms to know: loincloth: groin-covering cloth tied around the waist (literally just underwear). bedswerver: “adulterer” (an insult). mamillare: medieval breast band (bra).

When the sounds of marching footfall, deep cries of manly battle, and shod hooves pounding on the drought-hardened ground had ceased from the air, you saddle your horse and ride out to the far field of your property.

The putrid smell of rotting flesh hits you before any bodies are even in view. Your prized stallion slows his trot, nostrils flaring and ears perked forward as the scene of battle presents itself to both of you.

He begins to snort and whinny in acute panic at the sight of so many corpses, both human and horse. Your stomach begins to churn, and you can barely bring yourself to look upon the scene as your heel encourages him onward, wanting to make sure there aren’t any surviving soldiers.

Both sides seem to have suffered great loss, although you’re unsure which corpses belong to which side. The conflict betwixt Alderaan and Naboo has been dragging on much too long, and at the end of the day, is any conflict truly worth all of the lives lost?

You certainly didn’t think so, but perhaps you’re just too close to this war, incapable of having an unbiased opinion due to the loss of your beloved husband at the hands of Sir Kylo Ren, the Alderaanean calvary general and the most feared man across all five kingdoms.

As you make your rounds to check for survivors, much to the dismay of your steed, you quickly lose almost all hope that anyone laid here ended up surviving the brutality apparently brought down upon them during the fight.

Suddenly, your horse lifts himself up on hinds legs ever so slightly, jogging in place as a barely-audible groan comes from one of the men. His hand moves ever so slightly, and you quickly rush over to him, dismounting with a small first aid bag.

His helmet is that of a high-ranking official, but on which side he belongs, it’s too hard to tell. Not that it truly matters, you’d take just about any man with the courage to fight these battles.

“Sir?” You say, kneeling down beside the large man. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

He grunts lowly, winter-chapped lips opening in an attempt to speak. “S-Stomach.”

Once your mind registers his husky words, you look down at his abdomen and see that his armor seems to have been compromised in a spot right on the side of his stomach. Fresh blood seeps from the deep wound, and you cringe, grabbing one of the towels from your pack to gently wipe away some of the blood, but the tear in flesh is so deep, it’s impossible to do with just one towel. **dark content warnings ENDS**

“My estate is just a short ride from here. I cannot hold your weight myself, but if you can mount my horse, I will take you back and mend your wounds to the best of my ability.”

The mask nods softly, slowly but surely lifting himself up off the ground, wobbling towards your horse, who snorts nervously. He seemingly understands the severity of the situation, though, and stands still as the knight sits himself on his back.

From there, he lays back, breath catching in his throat as his injuries are tweaked with each of the horses’ strides. You hold onto the reins, leading your stallion back to the house.

After quite a bit of maneuvering and a lot of quarreling with the injured knight, you finally manage to set him up the cot in your spare bedroom. He sits down on the chair as you do so, mumbling and grumbling about his pain. You found it quite annoying, really, but you can’t really blame him for acting in such a way.

“You’ll need to remove your armor, sir. I cannot treat your wounds with it on.”

“By God’s bones.” He curses under his breath in annoyance, but stands and removes his body armor nonetheless.

Piece by piece is peeled from his body, his physically intimidating figure revealed slowly to your curious eyes. Only his under-layers were left, soon enough, and you found it a bit odd that he hadn’t taken his helmet off first. You would think that would be a great relief to have the proper air exposure on your face, but you’re not really in a place to make assumptions about that sort of thing.

His brilliantly alabaster skin is severely bloodied, bruised, and badly butchered. He would require quite some time to heal and recover, but if you learned anything from being married to an army man, it’s that they’re all stubborn bastards who never take the proper time to allow time for their bodies to properly heal.

He’s soon fully exposed to you, minus his helmet and threadbare loincloth, and you have to look away quickly as your cheeks heat up. The small garment left very little to the imagination, and this knight was...well endowed, to put it kindly.

Putting your own personal feelings aside for the betterment of the patient, you look back up at him with a small smile. “You may remove your helmet now, good sir.”

“I cannot reach up to grab it from my head.” He says in a flat, unamused voice.

“Of course.” You scold yourself for not thinking of that. “Well, if you lay down on the cot, I shall remove it for you.”

Instead of protest, which is what you expected, he complied with your instructions and laid down on the cot. He grunts satisfyingly at the comfort of a mattress, most likely used to sleeping on the ground.

When you reach for the bottoms of his helmet to pull it off, he suddenly snatches your wrist, stopping you instantly.

“If you need touch me, ask before doing so.” His voice is nothing more than a growl.

You almost roll your eyes, starting to truly become annoyed with this knight. You invited him into your home and you’re willing to be his bedside nurse...and he has the audacity to request something like this.

Again you’re forced to put your personal feelings aside for the sake of your patient and for the maintenance of your bedside manner, forcing a smile onto your face. “With all due respect, sir, I’m your nurse for the time being. I will be needing to touch you quite often. Am I really expected to ask each and every time?”

“Yes.” He replies.

Your jaw clenches and you wish nothing more in this moment than to smack this man right across the face.

“Fine. May I please remove your helmet?”

Sparing you the assurance of a vocal reply, the mask simply nods, and you pull it over his head. When the face of your patient is revealed to your eyes, you’re appalled.

It’s Sir Kylo Ren...the man that murdered your husband.

You drop the helmet onto the ground, metal clattering as it rocks back and forth once it’s settled in one spot on the hardwood. This can’t be real.

He snarls. “Why are you looking upon me with that expression? Have you never seen a man before? I have wounds that need tended to, girl, and I’d like to be out of here before sundown.”

Anger begins to boil your blood, tears burning in your eyes as you look down at the man before you.

“You bastard.” Your hand raises, ready to strike him clean against the cheek. He catches your fist in his hand before you can, though.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” Kylo warns, squeezing your fist. “I’ll have to have you beheaded for hitting an army man, and your head is much too pretty to be put to such waste.”

You snort, yanking yourself from his grip, teeth gritting as you walk out to fetch all the medical supplies. He’s wearing a cocky expression when you walk back in.

“I recognize you.” He says.

You huff, unamused. “How could you possibly recognize me? We’ve never met.”

His lips curl up into a devious smirk. “You’re right, we haven’t met before, but I recognize you from your husband’s description. I asked him what you looked like, since he was babbling on and on about you.”

You freeze up, bottom lip beginning to quiver as Sir Kylo continues.

“Then I drove my blade straight through his pathetic chest, and later that night, I touched myself as I thought of you.”

He chuckles deviously.

“Bedswerver!” You yell, cocking your fists once more and lunging at him, ready to strike once more. But then, you stop yourself, knowing the consequences you’d surely face should you actually hit him.

Your fists lower and you simply say nothing, preparing the cloths in the warm water. The tears run down your cheeks on their own volition, but you quickly wipe them away before turning back towards him.

“He wasn’t worthy of your company, Y/N.” Kylo says as you begin to clean the wounds on his stomach. “And he clearly didn’t satisfy you in the way you needed, considering the manner in which you looked over my body when I took my armor off.”

His hand reaches around and squeezes your ass, making you jump.

“How long has it been, little lamb? A young woman like you shouldn’t have to live without a man to satisfy her aching need.”

You can’t pretend that you’re not aroused by his words, by his touch. But you’d never let him have you, not in a thousand years. So, you quickly swat his hand away and continue cleaning his wounds. “That’s none of your concern, Sir Kylo. I am perfectly content without a man and that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

He laughs. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. I bet you’re aching right now, just from my words and my simple touch.”

Before he can touch you further, you back away, limbs trembling with anger and frustration. You dunk the bloody rag back into the bowl of water, ring it out a bit, then throw it onto his chest.

“Clean the wounds yourself, since you can obviously move your hands and arms perfectly fine.” You say, wiping your own on a dry cloth. “I’ll be back to bandage you in a bit.”

“Don’t think of me too much, lamb. You’ll release too quickly.” He snickers as you slam the door shut behind you, bursting into tears the moment you step foot into your bedroom.

You sob quietly, the freshly-healed stitches of your heart popping open one at a time, the grief and pain of losing your beloved consuming you once more.

And now you’re here, mending his killer.

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

It takes everything you have, every ounce of willpower, to wake up and face Sir Kylo every single day. You know you’re doing the right thing by helping him, but that doesn’t make dealing with him any easier.

He’s impossibly stubborn, arrogant beyond comprehension, and increasingly grumpy. But, you just have to keep going, keep pushing through, reminding yourself that each day brings you closer and closer to his inevitable departure.

You’ve all but blocked out his inappropriate and antagonizing comments or remarks, just getting his bandages replaced and then leaving the room as quickly as possible.

Today, though, he’s achieved a new level of jackassery, a thing you thought impossible until he did it. And boy, did he do it.

“I’ve made arrangements for a few whores to come and provide me some...company.”

Your fist tightens around the bandage in your hand. He smirks.

“You’re more than welcome to join us. There’s plenty of me to go around, little lamb. You’ll get your turn.”

“No, thanks. I think I’d rather stab myself with a sword.” You reply, beginning to switch out his bandages. “You’re lucky I’m even allowing it to occur in my house.”

He just chuckles. “You’d probably be bad, anyway.”

You suddenly rip the bandage off of his skin, causing him to cry out in pain. He looks at you, and you glare down at him. “Just...can you please just stop talking for once in your life? Must you always berate me when all I’ve done over the past few weeks is take care of you? Is this what kindness, genuine kindness, gets me?”

He suddenly seems to sober up, to let what he’s done to you sink in. It doesn’t last long, but you still see it. Perhaps he does have the capability to feel at least some sense of remorse.

Kylo stays quiet for the rest of the time you tend to his wounds, and when you turn to leave, the two words you’ve been convinced are not in his vocabulary, come from the behind you.

“Thank you.”

This sliver of empathy is short lived, especially after the girls from the local brothel make their way up to his room.

“Oh! Oh! Sir Kylo!”

You shake your head, attempting to read in the study, which is located on the other side of house from the guest bedroom. Yet, their screams, cries and the various other lewd noises still manage to make their way to your ears.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” “Take it, whore, take it!” “Kyloooooooo!”

The temptation to go up there and kick the girls out is increasing by the second, but you don’t. Maybe this will help mellow him out a bit, make him more manageable. Plus, you’re pretty sure that you’d have to carve your eyes out after walking in on whatever they’re doing up behind that closed door.

Unfortunately for you, it becomes progressively more difficult to focus on your book as the burn between your thighs intensifies. It’s been almost two years since your husband was murdered, which means that it’s been a little over that since you were last intimate with someone.

Normally, and up until Sir Kylo entered your household, you were more than fine subduing your sexual desires. You haven’t once touched yourself, not that you’d really know how to anyway, and you certainly weren’t about to start now.

You cross your legs, hoping that’ll quell some of the burning, but it only makes it worse. Another half an hour passes and your hand now rests on your thigh, slowly inching down towards your soaked and quivering pussy.

Just a quick touch won’t hurt...he doesn’t have to know...

Luckily, a knock at the door brings your motions to a stop. You sigh in relief, walking over to open the door. When you do, you’re met with a bandaged bare torso, a very muscular bare torso. His skin glistens with sweat and the smell of sex radiates from his essence.

He’s still breathing heavily as he stands in the doorway, looking down at you.

“We’re finished upstairs.” He says breathily. “I’m due for my afternoon bandage change, whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him saunter away, admiring the way his muscles stretch and tense with each stride. You’re burning up by now, both your skin and your arousal, and you wonder how you’re going to get through this next bandage change.

When you enter the room, the musk of sex is thick in the air, humidity at a suffocating level. You try to ignore it, try not to let it get to you, but it’s just surrounding you.

Your skin begins to glisten, brow furrowed as you focus on trying to change these bandages as quickly as possible. Kylo seems to take notice of your hurry, your sudden perspiring.

“Is something wrong?” He asks you, biting back a smirk. “You seem flustered.”

Nodding, you continue on with the bandaging. “I’m fine, just a bit warm is all.”

Kylo hums, reaching down to grab your wrist as you reach up to re-bandage the wound on his chest. He brings your fingers up to his lips, sucking the tips into his mouth gently, tongue swiping over the pads of your digits.

You try to pull away, to leave before you do something you regret, but his hold on you is firm. And if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t actually want him to stop.

Oh lord, this is bad. It’s so wrong. You shouldn’t want this. He murdered your husband, the man you loved. He’s so smug and cocky and yet...it’s what you’ve been wanting this whole time, the thing you’ve tried to suppress, to not let yourself want.

But now, everything else be damned, you want this. You need this. And damnit, you’re gonna have it.

His lips release your fingertips with a lewd pop! sound, an arrogant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You haven’t tried to pull away or tell me off in a minute or two. Is everything alright?”

You huff. “Just do it.”

He raises his eyebrows, sitting up a little. “Do what? What do you want me to do, little lamb?”

“You know what I want.”

“Oh yes, I’m fully aware of what you want.” He smirks. “But I want to hear you say it out loud.”

You cross your arms on your chest, trying to ignore the twang of guilt that shoots through you as you prepare to say the words aloud.

“Fine. I want you to f-fuck me.”

“That’s right. I knew you wanted it.” Kylo takes your hand and trails it down his muscular abdomen, stopping just above where his loincloth sits on his hips.

“Take it off.”

You’re chewing your lip numb as you reach down and undo the tie holding the garment on. Your breath hitches as you slide it off, exposing his member, which is hardening steadily.

“Instead of staring, perhaps you’d like to try touching it?” He smirks.

You shoot him a glare. “Stop talking, for once in your life, please spare my ears the sound of your constant squabble.”

Kylo chuckles, putting his hands behind his head.

Your hand wraps around the base of his length, and he grunts softly. It’s your turn to wear a smirk.

“Oh, do you like that, Sir Kylo?”

He huffs. “Every man likes their cock being touched. Don’t go thinking that it means anything.”

You squeeze his shaft, drawing a deep grunt from his lips and small buck of his hips. He looks away, jaw clenched in an attempt to prevent any further noises.

This fact only makes you more determined, hand pumping his cock with more vigor, alternating between different paces and pressures to really drive him crazy.

You’re thoroughly enjoying this, drinking in the sight of him trying his absolute hardest not to react to the touches that so obviously arouse him. You tease him even more, using your fingers to touch certain parts of his length.

Well, it’s fun for the few minutes it lasts, but suddenly, you find yourself in his position, laid back on the cot. He’s on top of you, now, pushing the skirts of your dress up, fingers yanking the laces on your bodice.

He quickly pulls it off, followed by your skirts, leaving you in only your mamillare and your loincloth. His eyes roam your newly exposed skin for a moment before his hand slips down between your thighs, fingers pressing up against the fabric.

“I knew it. Were you listening, little lamb? Were you listening to me fuck those whores and wishing it was you?”

Your breath hitches. “Well, it was sort of hard not to listen when the girls were screaming.”

His fingers wrap around the waist tie, pulling them down to fully expose your wet heat. He smirks, rubbing around until he finds that one spot that has your back arching and a gasp escaping your lips.

Before he can even say anything, you reiterate his words in a mocking tone. “Every woman likes being touched there. Don’t go thinking that it means anything.”

He huffs, rubbing you harder.

“Tell me how wet you got when you heard me fucking those whores. Tell me that you wanted a turn on my cock, wondered how good I’d feel inside you.”

“N-No.” You say, a stern expression on your face. “I’ll never say that to you.”

His jaw clenches as he bends down, lips next to your ear. “You'll be screaming it once I’m done with you.”

Your eyes widen when his fingers slowly press up into your entrance.

“Kylo...” You’ve never been touched in this way before. It’s...different, and not necessarily unpleasant.

He sees your hesitation. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”

And you did.

His digits begin moving in and out of you, curling up occasionally to stimulate a certain tender spot inside you. You’re biting down on your lip, surely hard enough to break the skin, trying your darndest not to give him the privilege of hearing your noises.

As you did to him, seeing you suppress your noises only spurs him on more, movements becoming quicker, swifter. Your orgasm draws closer with each skilled stroke, but just before you reach your peak, he pulls out.

You thought you wanted to hit him before; now, you kind of want to pop some of his abdomen stitches.

“Why did you do that?”

He laughs devilishly, reaching down to pump his cock, slicking it with the juices of your arousal. “You didn’t think I’d actually let you get off that easily, did you?”

“Well, I was sort of hoping...”

You’re brought to silence when he crawls on top of you, trapping you beneath his massive form. His mushroom head swirls around your entrance, collecting some of your slick before pressing it inside of you.

It’s been quite a while since you’ve had anyone, and you don’t think you’ve ever had someone of his size before, so you gasp softly as he presses forth. Soon, his entire length is seated in you, stretching and filling you to the brim.

His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he tries to remain still in order to allow you an adjustment period. Once you’ve had some time, he begins moving his hips, rolling them at a steady pace.

“Knew you’d have a nice little cunt,” He growls, teeth baring. “So wet and tight for me, little lamb.”

You bite your numbing lip in an attempt to prevent any of the desperate moans or cries that want to escape. He’s doing something similar, jaw clenched tightly.

Only the wet squelch and sharp snapping of skin colliding can be heard between the two of you, minus the occasional grunt or sharp inhale from either of you, which is quickly shut down almost as soon as it slips out.

Soon, you feel your climax begin to appear on the horizon, walls clenching and pulsing around his cock. He takes notice, quickly speeding his rhythm up, exhaling loudly through his flared nostrils.

He’s getting close, too, balls pulling up as his body prepares itself for orgasm. The energy between you two, as well as your physical movements, quickly turn desperate.

“Don’t release inside me.”

“I’m flattered that you think I’d even want to.” He says, smugly.

You huff, rolling your eyes. “I see that even the throws of passion and ecstasy is still not enough to tamper your unbearable attitude.”

“There is nothing that can stop me from taking the opportunity to get a rise out of you, milady.” He smirks before his brows knit in the center of his forehead. “If you’re gonna cum, I suggest you do it s-soon.”

Your eyes flutter shut, hips attempting to lift up off the mattress, wanting him to hit that certain spot inside you. As soon as you find the right angle, a choked sob leaves your lips as you’re quickly brought and tossed over the edge.

Kylo groans softly, thrusting rapidly before pulling out at the last minute, spilling his seed all over your abdomen.

Both of you are breathless as you ride out your climaxes, basking in the peaceful bliss that washes over your body, basking in the luxury of his utter and complete silence. It was a welcome change, a much-needed reprieve from the past few weeks of dealing with him.

He eventually flops down onto the mattress beside you, grabbing and re-securing his loincloth around his hips. You’re already a bit sore from being stretched for the first time in two years.

“May I just sleep here tonight, Sir Kylo? Unless you’d like to carry me back over to my bedroom.”

The side-eye he gives you is incredibly humorous, but you contain your laughter, not wanting to add oil to the flame.

“I won’t be a bother. I will stay on this side of the cot; you’ll barely even know I’m here.”

“Are you truly incapable of walking yourself back to your bedroom after one session of fucking? Was I really that amazing that I’ve left you unable to move about the house?” He laughs.

"And suddenly, the pain of walking over to my room seems less painful than staying here and listening to your vexing squabble.”

Kylo huffs. “If you stay here for the night, you may not breach the center of the mattress. I will kick you out if you even come close to bumping into me or making any sort of physical contact.”

Mocking his words from earlier, you smirk. “I’m flattered that you think I’d even want to touch you.”

“Very funny.” He says, flatly, rolling over to face away from you. “Just stay on your fucking side of the bed.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up to braid your hair for bed before fluffing the goose-feather pillow beneath your head, settling down for the night. Soon, Sir Kylo’s obnoxious snores bounce off the walls and you put your pillow over your head, hoping to muffle the noise.

God, even his snores are arrogant.

The next morning, when your eyes flutter open at the first sign of light through the window, you find the sheets next to you vacant.

You sit up, eyebrows furrowed as you look around the room, ears open to listen for any noise anywhere in the house. You don’t hear anything.

Then, you see a piece of rolled up parchment on his pillow along with a small satchel. When you open the pouch, you’re shocked to see a pile of shiny coins. You unrolled the note, reading the sloppy script.

For the medical supplies and for your trouble. Here’s hoping our paths never cross again.

-Kylo

As you read the very brief and to-the-point note, you can practically hear his snide voice in your head reciting it. The cold, cocky tone of his words shone through the parchment and ink, incredibly so. You huff, tossing the note back onto the pillow before getting up to begin the day.

Well...at least you’ll never have to see him again.

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