#there's no real nudity besides his pants falling down so

[weird-gay-disaster]

I do not care for this anime. (randomly stumbles upon this scene) 10/10 best of the decade get fcked demon slayer

#chain chronicle #anime #apples #fat #hunk #gay #nsfw? idk #there's no real nudity besides his pants falling down so #belly #anime fans WAKE. UP. this is the shit jiggle physics should be used for #everytime i watch this i randomly get the urge to bully and objectify the fuck out of this bit character #what is wrong with me #Youtube

[atomicwriter]

my teeth in your heart → xiao

00. An Amputated Soul

DESCRIPTION: in liyue, wuwang hill is spoken of as the place where the dead dwell, and there’s a fable that’s oft–repeated among the youth of qingce village. xiao knows this tale, he witnessed it firsthand, and it is as familiar to him as the wind that he coils between his fingers. he does not speak of it much, for who is he to tell it to? all he knows is that the memory is prevalent as the disembodied whispers of karmic debt that call his name.

DISCLAIMER: gender neutral reader. brief mentions of nudity and death. multi-chapter fic.

WORD COUNT: 3k.

It’s a strange sensation.

There’s no pain, just an all-consuming numbness that spreads throughout your entire body. Your fingers flex, although you’re barely able to make sense of their movements. You can only recognize the metronome of your heartbeat as you float wistfully, the blood in your veins roaring so loud that all other sounds fall deaf to your ears. This serenity, a moment free from shouldering the hardships of the world, seems all too foreign for you, although you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why.

Here, you drift in the endless cosmos, wet and thick. You’re untethered, a lone particle with no sense of gravity in the middle of space. Reality seems discombobulated, and life consists of fractured memories that you’re unable to put together, as if you are missing the puzzle pieces necessary to do so. There’s a heavy pounding in your temples, and the tresses of your hair float around your head like wisps of smoke caught in the moonlight.

It’s when you open your eyes that you realize you can’t breathe. You suddenly become aware that you’re submerged underwater, and the previous tranquility is replaced by a fervent hysteria. Curled up in a fetal position, your bones knock together at the joints, trying for a foothold over the slick crossings of the river floor. Withal, your limbs are constricted by the water reeds, rendering you practically immobile, and your feet sink into the slick, black earthsoup. The surface seems far away from your stricken fingers as you desperately flail them in an attempt to stay afloat.

You can feel your heart pulse sporadically in your teeth, and your spine convulses as you choke on the air that you can’t breathe. In a brief moment of clarity, you retract your arms, beginning to uproot the reeds that confine your body to the riverbed. Determination numbs the burning sensation that coruscates throughout your chest, snuffing out the white-hot sensation that begins to gnaw at your lungs. This newfound electricity swallows you whole, surging through your veins like an incinerator that’s sweltering hot and nuclear-powered. Mud billows up in waves from the floor.

You can taste the acrid tang of death as you bite down on your tongue, and you know it’s coming when your periphery turns white. An abrupt coolness rushes in, igniting a formication along your skin. In mere moments, you realize, you will float like the water reeds, nothing more than flesh and bones ready to decay in the currents. It’s unnerving to realize, it’s unnerving to even think about, and you want to push against the exhaustion that barrels onto your body; to strain for the moonlight that dims above. But your limbs grow heavy, your fingers turn bloated and blue, and your head is spinning, spinning, spinning…

A rough hand clamps down on your shoulders and you’re jerked out of the water before the darkness completely takes over your vision.

You break the surface, coughing and spluttering. Your chest heaves violently, sucking in desperate lungfuls of air that you had previously been so cruelly deprived of. The disturbed water sloshes around as you’re pulled onto the surface of a raft, and you collapse to your knees. Spindly fingers anchor themselves against the dried bamboo stakes, unable to let go until you’re steady once again. Your breath releases in sharp heaves, but it’s there, and that’s all that matters.

When the chill finally seeps into your skin, you see everything in pieces: the shadow of a silhouette in the fading moonlight, dark eyes fraught with concern, and frantic hands thrusting a sheet around your trembling body. Panting hard, you find a certain sense of relief when you cut your eyes to the person who stands by your shivering form. The landscape is blurry before you, and a restless energy hums beneath your skin.

“Are you alright?” the man asks you.

You don’t answer him at first. Instead, you swivel your head around as you take in your surroundings. You’re encircled by calm waters, serene despite their previous menace. Ripples lull the boat, and you follow their path to a shore that doesn’t lie too far from where you are now. You can barely make out the bamboo stalks that extend towards the night sky, framed by the gray cliffs that confine the surrounding land within an alcove of shadows.

“Where are we?” you ask him.

“This is Bishui River.”

The name rings with an unknown sense of familiarity, and you repeat it under your breath.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” the man crouches down beside you, “but, what happened to you?”

You wish you could answer him, and when you look down, you notice your hands are shaking. From the frustration of being unable to recall anything or your apparent weakness, you don’t know. It’s like there’s a roadblock in your mind, a screen that reaches from ground to sky that disconnects you from the world around you. Faint sounds plug your ears, memories float across your eyes, and you’re unaware of what you have forgotten. Your past is something hidden, but in this moment you cannot fathom what it might be.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. You ball your hands into fists, knuckles blanching and fingernails digging deep into your palms as you turn to glower at the waters below. A sharp pain lances through your skin, but you don’t release them. All you can do is tell him your name.

“I see,” he hums, and you look towards him, whose cloak reveals a subtle beard of black hair and callous hands - working hands. There are wicker baskets that lie adjacent to his feet, filled with scavenged fish and herbs, carrots and sunsettias. “I stopped using my real name a long time ago. You can just call me Jiangxue.”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t lose focus. Your nature is to piece this puzzle together: a fisherman out in the dead of night, an unknown land that is strangely familiar, and you, a person composed of seafoam who was pulled to the surface with nothing but a name. You admit that that’s what bewilders you most, but you suck in a breath and push the thought away.

“There’s a village near here. I can take you there if you’d like,” Jiangxue speaks when your silence persists. His eyes glance towards your figure before quickly looking away. A cough catches somewhere between his lungs and his throat. “It consists of amiable folk. You should be able to persuade them into getting you some clothing.”

You look down at his words, and your throat drops to your stomach when you find your bare skin on display. A hypodermic heat rushes to your face, and you wrap the thin sheet tighter around your naked body.

“I … uh … sorry,” you manage to sputter out, bowing your chin down to your chest as if the simple action alone could erase all traces of embarrassment. “I hadn’t realized.”

“It’s no matter,” he affirms, paddling towards the land.

It begins to rain once the raft reaches the shore, and an argentine fluorescence seeps from the sky. The drops plummet from the sky, rapid and ruthless. As you step onto the bank, you find that the mossy ground is damp and sodden, a deep green pigmentation that indicates the fallen rain as a usual occurrence. Jagged stones press uncomfortably into your heels, and you can feel the way the air stills around you.

You don’t understand why these plains seem so disorienting, why the soft susurration of the leaves feel so heavy in your ears. This stupor comes alongside that previous sense of familiarity - an ambient nostalgia for a native land that you yearn to experience once again. There’s an entwining reassurance, distant childhood memories, and the comforts of home. Perhaps one day you will find out why.

When you see the man step off of his raft in an attempt to follow you, you stop him with the shake of your head.

“I’m fine from here on out,” you say before you can even make sense of the words. “I know my way there.”

Skeptical of your proclamation, he raises an eyebrow.

“Dawn will be here soon, you should return to fishing before the world wakes up.”

“You misunderstand,” he says, walking towards you nonetheless. “I do not fish for a living. Neither the process nor the result means much of anything to me.”

“Oh,” you frown. “Is it just a way to pass time, then?”

“Precisely that.” And then he smiles, reaching out his hand and placing it on yours. When he retracts, you find a sunsettia placed into the cocoon of your palm, accompanied by a glowing ornament composed of Varunada Lazurite. There’s a delicate swirl–like design imprinted in the middle of the gem, and your breath catches in your throat when you realize what it is: a Hydro Vision. It must have resurfaced alongside you.

You wish to thank him, but you can not find the voice to do so.

“Safe travels,” Jiangxue says. He turns away, only walking a few steps before he pauses entirely. He opens his mouth, and a look crosses his face then as if he doesn’t know what to say.

“Yes?” you ask of him. “What is it?”

He still doesn’t speak, and you watch as he unclips the cloak from around his waist, slipping it off his arms and rolling it within itself. He hands you the bundle of cloth.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, waving your hands in front of you. “I couldn’t possibly. You have given me far too much.”

“You are cold,” is all he says. “Take it.”

“Really, I don’t-”

“I implore you. Please take it.”

There’s something in his voice then, a plea that is all too unfitting for the composed man before you. Unable to fight against his wishes, you timidly reach forward and remove the article from his grasp.

“There should be no monsters to block your path,” Jiangxue says. “He has made sure of it.”

There is nothing to stop the bewilderment that illustrates your face.

“He?” you question, but the fisherman’s back is turned to you. Befuddled, you do not say anything more, and the quietude encroaches in.

Somewhere in the near distance, a bird squalls — the only sound to penetrate the silence. Jiangxue moves back onto his raft, situating a paddle between the calloused texture of his hands. You don’t wait to watch him leave, instead bowing your head in a display of gratitude before pivoting on your heel and weaving through the clotted bamboo.

When you are certain that you are adequately hidden, the soaked-through sheet that had previously found home on your shoulders falls to the floor. You cinch the cloak that Jiangxue gifted you around your body, and the linen cocoons your body heat comfortably. Pocketing your Vision and the sunsettia, you pluck the sheet from off the ground, and begin to walk forward once more.

It’s not a long trek, that much you can recall, but when you reach the edge of the village, you find that the world has flung itself over and a new sun breaks the horizon. It’s a nectarine-sweet sky, mingling above the mountain that cradles the abundant crop lands within its embrace. You cross the bridge over the terraced fields of crops and wildflowers, inching closer to the livening village. It remains peaceful and quiet all the same, even as its occupants begin to stir.

This isn’t a place that receives many guests, that much you can affirm, despite the boundless beauty the land withholds. The rising sun embraces your skin, silky and warm, and even the rough texture of the stairs beneath your feet seems to hold a fount of comfort within themselves. You can hear the hummingbirds philandering with the flowers, their birdsong coming in lulls and bursts. The aromatic hints of Jueyun Chili and Violetgrass invade upon the atmosphere, inspiring a warmth to pool within your stomach.

It’s when you near the top of the stone path that you can make sense of a hunched figure beneath the strung lanterns, still lit despite the day’s arrival. She paces from side to side, graceful in her steps regardless of the aged lines that sculpt her face, on display due to her gray hair tucked in a low bun. As if sensing your presence, she stops, the green of her dress swiveling with her movements as she pivots on her heel to face you.

“My dear,” she calls, as if she has known you all this time. “Welcome to Qingce Village. Why don’t you take a walk with me?”

The elderly lady nods her head towards the courtyard, and there you can see a conglomeration of buildings that frame the square, constructed of wood and bamboo stalks. Fruit stands are tucked into corners, and a little ways down, a water mill sits adjacent to a bridge, converging with the path that leads further up the mountain. From nearby, the sound of a waterfall marginally emerges above the noises of early morning, and a rush of wistfulness overwhelms your entire being.

“Have you been aware that I would come?” you ask as you step beside her. She leads you towards the bridge.

A small smile sets apart her lips. “You must know we have quite the accumulation of spies here.”

A look of confoundment overtakes your features, and before you can request her to explain any further, a muffled chorus of giggles is heard from behind you. When you turn around, three pairs of eyes stare curiously at your form, and petite hands latch onto the edges of the cart that the children hide behind.

“I was not aware that I’d been under surveillance.”

“Outsiders are rather rare here,” the elderly woman muses, turning her head to where you gaze. “Of course, they still have a lot to learn.”

A sense of amusement flutters within your chest.

“Might I inquire as to why you have come?” she asks you.

The question momentarily startles you, although you reason that it is not unexpected. Attempting to grasp at your thoughts, you press your teeth down onto your lip, and all answers that are brought to mind prove insufficient to her question.

She must notice your inner turmoil, because she provides a reassuring expression before speaking: “It is fine if you do not wish to indulge me. We all have things we wish to keep to ourselves.”

“It’s not that. It’s just … how do I put this?” you reply, taking a grounding breath before voicing further. “There are many memories before this morning that have escaped me, including the answer to your inquiry. Although, I do suppose I hoped that I might be able to acquire some assistance here.”

She seems to contemplate your words, and stops walking just before your feet make contact with the bridge. A middle-aged woman appears in your periphery then, raising her hand in greeting to the lady beside you, the other arm slung over a wicker basket that rests on her hip. She must be preparing for a day's worth of field work, you presume.

“I see. Let us go somewhere more private. We will converse there,” she says. “And perhaps we might find you some more suitable clothes.”

She leads you to a building that rests on a wedge below the peak of the mountain. It’s certainly the largest structure of the village, composed of wooden posts and joists to encircle the open space. A shallow pond borders the front entrance, lotus heads and lily pads peaking above its glassy surface. The inside is completely exposed to the external environment, and from here, you can make out the entirety of the village. Nonetheless, being under a roof grants you a gratifying sense of privacy.

With a fragile hand on the small of your back, the lady leads you to a painted screen wall that rests off–center of the building, framed by wooden beams. It’s a picture of the mountain, you promptly recognize, with streaks of orange and blue that appear to glow in the morning light. She gently encourages you behind it, and you don’t realize that there is a set of garments in her other hand before she’s pushing them into your own.

“There is no one around to see,” she says, as if sensing your hesitation, and leaves you to your own.

Once the woman rounds the corner, you make haste in removing the cloak, slipping on the pants that tighten at your waist. The silk laced fabric flares out to brush at your ankles, and the cerulean trimmed edges barely graze upon the ground. The main portion is a dark umber, much like the short sleeved shirt given to you, with stitched decals of ochre and blue. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to bind the fastenings down your chest.

There is no mirror nearby, but you are gently pleased by the choice in fabrics. You run your fingers over the material, feeling the ridges, the needlework, and the cotton–like texture. You know you’re in no position to experience such a luxury at the given moment, but you also have no entitlement to brush off such a thing. Your body hums with gratitude, and you step out from behind the wall.

The elderly lady seems to be equally as pleased, as she sends you a tight–lipped smile. From where her hands are clasped behind your back, she motions towards the chairs that circle the center of the building, fringing on the carmine painted engraving of a flower–like design. You take a seat.

“Might I ask your name?” You are the first to speak.

“You may call me Granny Ruoxin,” she muses. “I do apologize if it isn’t too lively around here, but life is pleasant here, and I hope you find a sense of enjoyment within the village.”

You learn forward, eager. “You mean it? I can stay?”

She nods, and it’s like the Universe has bursted into light. “There is plenty of room. You may stay until you are certain of where your journey will take you.”

A glint from the sun sparks your gaze, and you watch as Granny Ruoxin moves to sit beside you. Her movements are leisurely, hands crossed–hatched with scars reaching down to clasp yours in her own, and you dare to wonder of all the ways in which your life is about to unfold.

hello! i hope you enjoyed this. it’s my first time posting something genshin related on tumblr, so feedback is greatly appreciated. <3

additionally, i am considering making a tag list for this story, so if you are interested please message me!!

also! you can read it here on a03!

#xiao #xiao x reader #genshin #genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli x reader #venti #aether #xingqiu #chongyun #ganyu #angst #xiao smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact imagines #genshin fanfic #xiao fanfic #genshin impact xiao #pls read #:)

[fruitcoops]

I'm not the anon that asked about Remus and subspace/aftercare but I'd love to see more of it if/whenever you would like/have time💜 The way you write these things is so respectful, loving, and comforting and I love it so much!

Thank you so much, anon! I hope everyone who requested this enjoys it <3 Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for implied smut (not super explicit), nudity, aftercare, subdrop/ subspace, restraint, tears (the good kind)

“Easy,” Sirius murmured into the sweaty skin of Remus’ neck, holding him close as he splayed his hand over Remus’ belly. The muscles jumped under his palm and a shudder ran through him as he scrambled for a clumsy hold on Sirius’ arm and shoulders. “Re, easy.”

A hoarse whine slipped out beside his heaving breaths and he let out a low moan when Sirius adjusted his grip to keep him upright. “More,” Remus begged, grinding his hips back even as he shook through the aftershocks. “More, more, more—“

“You’re done,” Sirius interrupted gently, pressing a kiss to the junction of his neck and shoulder.

Remus shook his head frantically. “No, no, I can do it, I gotta, no, please.”

“You’re done.” Sirius leaned back to take more of his weight despite the fact that he was practically holding Remus already. He slid the arm locked across Remus’ chest up to brush the damp hair from his eyes and guided his head to lay back against Sirius’ shoulder. “Deep breaths for me, just like that. In and out.”

“I can’t,” Remus panted, swallowing hard as he gripped Sirius’ thighs weakly. “Baby, please, just—just let me—one more time, just one more.”

“Remus.”

“I’m sorry.” A tear squeezed from the corner of his eye, following the path of many from the throes of pleasure that had left him gasping in the way Sirius loved. “Fuck, it’s always so much. ‘m tired, and ‘m horny.”

Sirius kissed his cheek and ran slow fingers through his curls until Remus went boneless into his chest with a punched-out sound; he closed his eyes and snuggled into Sirius, rubbing his cheek along his collarbone. “There you go,” he praised quietly. Slipping into subspace wasn’t super common for either of them, but when it did happen, Sirius was only too happy to help him through it.

If his memory served, Remus’ adrenaline would finally be draining and the steady slide into the land of the living was beginning. His own drop was a little different, but he recognized the signs well enough. “Love you,” Remus managed, watching him with hooded, adoring eyes. “Love you. Y’know I love you, yeah?”

“I do,” he assured him, laying back to pull Remus onto his chest—they were entangled almost instantly as Remus mouthed aimlessly along his chest and shoulders. Teeth sank into the ridge of his collarbone. “Ouch.”

“Sorry,” Remus mumbled, snuggling closer. His hair was a mess from both their hands and his lips were swollen red, sure to be chapped when the shine faded. Sirius felt guilty for half a second before remembering that Remus was the one who bit his own lips when he got close. And, fuck, had he been close.

“How are you feeling?” He inspected the light scratch marks on his forearms as Remus’ heartbeat went from rabbit-quick to just-worked-out. Maybe we should have chosen a different position for the end, he thought, then shook his head. Marks on his forearms would be less likely to get chirped than ones on his back.

“Alright.”

“How can I help you?”

Remus made a face, but didn’t open his eyes. His thigh was slick and tacky where it rested on Sirius’ hip. “Warm. Uncomfy. Don’t wanna go.”

That was the hardest part of aftercare, in Sirius’ opinion. Remus’ accent was pretty mild most of the time, but it came out full force after something intense and the small fragments of words rarely connected with Sirius’ limited English as his own brain came back online. Still, it was the least he could do after Remus worked him through five straight minutes of rambling French each time he dropped.

“Water,” Remus sighed, toying at the sheets with a trembling hand. “Sticky.”

“I’ll get a washcloth when you’re ready.”

“Take m’ with you.”

Sirius laughed softly and kissed his forehead, pushing the heel of his hand along Remus’ spine to work out any knots or stiffness. His knees ached, and he wasn’t even sure if he could carry his own weight before a few moments of rest. “I can’t carry you yet, mon coeur.”

“Sexy nickname. Sexy times.” Remus hitched his leg up over Sirius’ hip with great effort. “More?”

“Not right now, sweetheart.” A dopey smile spread over his face and Sirius felt a well of affection bloom in his chest. Remus hummed, running his thumbs over the middle of Sirius’ ribs. “Good job. Are you coming down a little more?”

“Mhmm.”

“I’m going to keep holding you, then get a washcloth, then some water, okay? But I’m not going anywhere right now.”

“Sticky.”

“I know. We’ll fix that in a minute or so. Was that good?”

Remus squirmed around until his front was pressed against Sirius side, sharing their radiating warmth. “Real good.”

He traced the outline of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and smiled when Remus nipped at it. “Your lips look sore.”

“Hmmm.”

“Next time, we should remember to use a gag if I’m not keeping an eye on you.”

Remus looked up at him eagerly, his gaze clearing of some of its fogginess. “Yeah, yeah, for sure.”

“How’s the rest of you?” Sirius watched him carefully as he straightened all his limbs with a heavy sigh, making faces here and there. “Nothing too bad?”

“Knees hurt, but I like it. Fingers are a little sore.” Mischief flickered over his face. “Ass hurts.”

“Color me shocked,” Sirius deadpanned, drawing a snort from him. “It wasn’t too much?”

Remus shook his head and stretched; his back arched, then popped, and he flopped back down with a contented noise. “Nope.”

“You look better now.”

He raised an eyebrow and rolled to face Sirius, bringing him closer with a hand on his cheek. “I needed that.”

Sirius nuzzled their noses together. “Any time, mon loup.”

They had moved well past adrenaline, latent arousal, and dizziness, and he was willing to bet Remus would be okay in bed alone for longer than a minute or two soon. The stress of a week of back-to-back interviews from people questioning every aspect of Remus’ life as the new rookie had just built and built and built until he had snapped over dinner, his rare temper flaring up before he looked Sirius dead in the eyes and all but demanded to be fucked until he couldn’t think about anything else.

“Way-it,” Remus said into the skin of his shoulder. Sirius hummed in question and felt a hand pull at his waist. “Weight, please.”

Sirius gathered him close and maneuvered until he could press down on Remus without making him feel trapped—my own personal weighted blanket, Remus teased. “Better?”

He felt the steady rise and fall under him and the buzz of a happy sound in his neck. Remus always got cuddly once he was done with the desperation and the confusion; that was the part that stuck around longest, and if Sirius was being honest, his favorite part of the whole process. For someone who was usually so ambiguous about physical contact, he could be wonderfully tactile.

There was a fine art to making sure the transition was as smooth as it could be—it was a team effort, despite the fact that Remus was fairly out of it for the first half. Sirius rubbed his back to get his attention and rested their foreheads together. “I’m going to get a washcloth and water, d’accord?”

Remus held him tighter.

“Re.” He trailed his finger along the slope of his nose, then tilted his chin up. “I need you to trust me. I’ll be right back for snuggles, but you’re sticky and we’re both dehydrated.”

Rebellion and familiar stubbornness sparked up. “No.”

“Three minutes. You can time me.” God, I hope that’s enough time.

“Stay with me.”

“You were just telling me you were uncomfortable and sticky.”

“Take me with you.”

“My legs are tired.” He combed both hands through Remus’ hair and watched his eyes, still a little red from tears and exertion, flutter slightly closed from the feeling. “Three minutes, and then I promise I’ll be right here. Do you trust me?”

Slowly, Remus nodded, and his hold released.

“Thank you.” Pull it together, Sirius reminded himself as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, using the edge as a crutch for a brief moment. His muscles begged to be left alone on the bed with Remus, but they both needed to get cleaned up before sleeping and Sirius really had to pee. Who knew holding a 180-pound hockey player in place as he shook and writhed would take so much effort?

Sirius. Sirius knew. And it had absolutely been worth it.

He rinsed his face in the sink and ran the damp washcloth over his arms—the scratches didn’t sting, but they were fading to a nice pinkish crosshatch with small lilac bruises where Remus’ fingertips dug in as he finally came, clinging to the forearm that held his back to Sirius’ chest. Without Sirius’ other arm applying pressure to his hips while his hand moved tight over his shaft, Remus would probably have slid right down onto the duvet in a puddle of endorphins.

“Stay awake,” Sirius reminded him as he entered their bedroom once again and settled into his old spot to lean Remus against his ribs so he could drink.

“I’m—” He cleared his throat and took a sip. Remus wasn’t much of a howler or moaner, not like Sirius, but his babbling and breathless sobs of overwhelming pleasure had certainly done a number on his throat. “I’m awake.”

“You sound stronger and look more like you.” Sirius stabilized his chin between his thumb and pointer, carefully wiping Remus’ face clean with the small towel; some of the frazzled edges smoothed out, and soon he just looked tired. Settled. Sated.

Those were all good things in Sirius’ book as he washed away some of the mess along Remus’ thighs once the tear tracks were gone. They would need to shower later, but he didn’t think either of them could stand long enough at the moment, and a bath would quickly turn into a nap. “You’re so good to me,” Remus whispered.

“Because I love you and you deserve good things.” He set his supplies aside and relaxed into the pillows, pulling Remus down with him. “Are you okay with not seeing my face at the end?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to change up sometimes.” His thumb moved in curling patterns over the light, mouth-shaped bruises littering Sirius’ skin. “You’ll tell me if I go too far, right?”

Sirius smiled and turned so they were face-to-face. “That’s my line.”

“You’re always bruised.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I really like it.”

“Kinky motherfucker,” Remus teased, poking his sternum. Sirius didn’t protest, just admired the grounded look on his face and the happy post-orgasm glow that rose high on his cheeks. “You’re staring again.”

“I stare at you all the time. You’re too pretty not to be looked at.”

Remus smiled, slinging a leg over Sirius’ hip and drawing him closer with an arm around his ribs; callused fingers tapped in random rhythms between his shoulder blades, and Sirius let the tension flow from his whole body. This is what people mean when they say ‘warm and fuzzy’, he thought sleepily, sinking into a gentle kiss from plush lips. The drop could be difficult to navigate sometimes, but it was always, always worth it to melt together at the end.

#fanfic #my fic #remus lupin #sirius black #coops #smut #aftercare #sweater weather #lumosinlove

[whimperwoods]

Oswin - Bedtime

Part 7! Oswin Greystone is a wizard, a con man, and, now, a warlock’s pet. It’s been several hours since he last begged. He only hopes it doesn’t make things worse. As much as he has the energy to hope.

tw: pet whump, tw: non-sexual nudity, tw: humiliation, tw: whumper is a  policeman/city guard captain, tw: gags, tw: choking mention, tw: ptsd (not-post though? idk), tw: literal boot-licking, tw: threats, tw: strangulation mention, tw: death threats, tw: animalization

There’s a masterpost now!

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @starnight-whump

****

Oswin hadn’t known how much he actually appreciated the noise of the other guards until it was gone. They had been coming in and out downstairs, laughing and joking, taking time to spar with each other, voices and the clank of armor and the clack of wooden training swords all drifting up the stairs toward him and his master, and he hadn’t even thought to appreciate it.

Now, it was quiet in the building, and he found himself shaking again, instinctively pressing himself harder to the ground.

I need you coherent while I’m alone on the evening shift. That was what his master had said last night. The other guards could wait to be called on in the daylight, could take off time between their assigned rounds, could hang out loud between shifts, but now - now it was night and things were dangerous, and he couldn’t help thinking that nowhere was as dangerous as here.

His master reached toward him from the chair and he flinched away, only to be caught by the back of the collar, his master’s fingers brushing against the burn mark on the back of his neck and making him cry out, the sound cut off abruptly as his master wrenched him upward, pulling him onto his knees by the collar.

Oswin straightened his back and pressed up against the seat of the chair with his arms to help hold his head higher, gasping in precious air as his master’s grip loosened.

Then the hand gripped his chin and forced him to meet his master’s eyes. His stomach squirmed, but he forced himself not to look away, even as his eyes started to tear up again, of their own accord.

“I’ll tell you when to be afraid of me, boy. Now you’ll have to be gagged, for the trouble.”

Oswin whimpered, unable to stop himself.

A vicious tug on his hair was followed by a motion to backhand him across the face, but at the last moment, his master pulled the blow, another warning, like the missed kick, earlier. He’d thought about it, since then. Thought about how to say thank you.

He’d thought he’d be on the ground, but he adjusted, ducking his head to nuzzle against the side of the man’s knee instead of bowing over his foot again, and whined softly, hoping his master would understand it as gratitude for - gods, it wasn’t even lenience, was it? It was only a pulled blow, meant to scare him, and the only reason it had been pulled was that his master didn’t want him dead, didn’t want one more drip of blood from his nose to be his last. But he was stronger than that, now, if only barely. He was healing. And if he played his cards right, maybe he could keep healing.

He gave the man’s knee a second nudge with the side of his face, this time humming to make sure there was some kind of positive noise, and the captain snorted.

A rough hand petted through his hair again, and the man’s voice sounded warmer when he spoke. “Enough. Open your mouth.”

Oswin’s entire body shook, the memory of choking around the gag suddenly real and impossible. His throat threatened to close up, and his breaths shortened, but his mouth opened instinctively to take in more air, and his master was somehow, impossibly, unbearably, already holding the gag. He thrust the bar in between Oswin’s teeth and started buckling the back, his strong hands forcing Oswin’s head down against his knee hard enough that he could feel his master’s kneecap digging into his forehead.

When his master released him, he raised his head but stayed still, mind reeling. He forced himself to breathe, concentrated on breathing, still clinging desperately to the seat of the chair, still hunched awkwardly with his head bowed low over his master’s knees.

As he got a grip on himself, he realized his master was petting his hair again, a little more gently this time. “There you go,” he said softly, “You’re ready to be a good boy again, I can tell.”

Oswin closed his eyes and tried to relax, laying his cheek against his master’s thigh, just a little above the knee, where it was softer and not so bony. Maybe if he seemed relaxed, he would be allowed to keep breathing. In through his nose. Out through his nose. Not too fast. Not too slow. Breathing. He was still breathing. It was ok. He was still breathing.

His master actually laughed. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” he asked, but his hand was still gentle in Oswin’s hair. He shouldn’t respond, shouldn’t make it go from joke to more punishment, but some part of him was so relieved to hear his master happy that he could almost cry, and he nuzzled against the captain’s thigh with his nose, still keeping quiet.

His master’s hand swept gently through his hair one more time before the man shoved Oswin away from him, firmly but without the strength Oswin knew he had.

“Come on, pet. Time for dinner.” He snorted, half chuckle. “Mine, anyway. But you had lunch. We’ll see if you do better tomorrow.”

Oswin’s mind stayed thoroughly wrapped up in breathing, in through his nose, out through his nose, keeping his throat and sinuses as open as he could, breathing in, breathing out, not allowed to remember almost dying, holding the thought at bay, at arm’s length, only breathing, only allowed to breathe, and somehow he was down the stairs. Somehow he was kneeling beside his master, too in his own head to notice the smell of his master’s dinner or the growling of his stomach. Somehow, he was climbing the stairs again. Somehow kneeling beside his master as the man looked at a map of the town. Somehow still moving, still following orders.

He thought about breathing.

He thought about breathing.

His master was speaking to him, and he realized with a start that he hadn’t been listening.

The Captain laughed. “That’s right, there’s some proper gratitude. You’ll still be chained, of course, but it’ll be softer up there. And you can keep my feet warm, if it comes to it.”

Oswin didn’t know what his master was talking about, but he made a concentrated effort to pay more attention, to listen when his master spoke, to notice the orders he was following instead of just trailing along.

He let his master shackle him to the foot of the bed, climbed tentatively up onto it when his master gestured, curled in on himself with his eyes still on his master’s face, but then - then his master was stepping away, leaving him there, moving to change into his sleeping clothes, and the only thing more frightening than having a gag in his mouth was having a gag in his mouth and his master clear on the other side of the room, or even worse, asleep and not watching to remove the gag if Oswin choked again.

Making a muffled noise through the gag, he flung himself off the bed and crawled forward, prostrating himself at his master’s feet as the man stopped in surprise.

“Pleathee, Mathhter,” he managed through the gag, “Pleathe, I cannn. I cannn bleathe. Pleathe.”

He couldn’t bear to look up, couldn’t bear to see his master’s face. He crawled forward still farther, hunching over to press his forehead to the top of his master’s foot.

“Pleathe, I cannnn.”

His master’s voice was cold and measured, which was at least better than an immediate flash of rage. “So you want your gag out,” he said, “After I specifically rewarded you. That’s not enough for you.”

Oswin’s eyes filled with tears. He couldn’t think of a better way to ask, a better way to beg, but even without falling, the tears threatened to make his throat thicken, his nose close up, to make him choke again, and all he could do was cry out more loudly while he still had breath.

“Pleathe, mathhhher. Pleathe.”

“Raise your head up.”

The voice was still cold as ice, and Oswin’s entire body trembled as he followed instructions.

For a moment, his master held Oswin’s head in his hands, watching the half-panicked breaths through his nose, the tears glinting in his eyes, taking it all in.

Then he unbuckled the gag and pulled it out of Oswin’s mouth. The moment his mouth was freed, Oswin found himself collapsing back to the ground, sobbing with his forehead pressed to the ground in front of his master’s feet, gasping and panting and managing only garbled, desperate “thank you”s in gratitude.

His master let him weep, let him pant and sob and humiliate himself, but he could feel the man’s stiffness even through his own relief, could feel tension in his stance and cold radiating from him.

When Oswin finally quieted, his master spoke again, that same ice in his voice. “Kiss my feet, wizard. I’m not sure you’re grateful enough, yet.”

Oswin complied, too wrung out with crying and fear even to hesitate. He pressed a kiss to the top of the well-kept leather of one foot, and was halfway to the other when his master snapped his fingers, stopping him. Oswin looked up, noting the way his master’s face was still strangely implacable, neither angry nor pleased, a mystery.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said, calmly, and this time Oswin could hear the sizzle in it, could hear anger threatening to burst into flame. “Lick it. I want my boots clean enough to pass inspection with the king, before I let you go to sleep. I’m going to stand right here until you finish, and if you make me wait until I’m tired, you’ll be wearing that gag to bed if it kills you. Am I clear?”

Oswin didn’t try to answer, didn’t dare nod, didn’t know how else to say yes. Part of him knew that if he did this, there was no going back. The other part of him was already moving.

His master’s boots were mostly clean-ish already, kept polished as befitted his station, and he had been inside all day, but Oswin could still taste dirt and filth as his tongue swiped over the leather, his mouth already starting to go dry from dust and terror.

He focused on his breathing again as he continued, his mind squirming away from all the thoughts he couldn’t bear thinking, the thoughts that weren’t his task, his breathing. He wasn’t blushing, and passively, for a moment, he noted that that was strange. But then he had control of his mind again, control of his own focus. He was breathing. He was breathing. He was allowed to breathe, and this was the cost. He could only think about being allowed to breathe.

By the end he was barely on his hands and knees, barely able to keep going as his whole body shook. His mouth was dry. It was so dry. He kept having to stop, to swallow what dirt he could and force what moisture he could, but he kept his head down, kept his eyes focused on his master’s boots, tried not to look hesitant, not to look disobedient, gods, he couldn’t wear the gag again, he had to do this, he had to do this, he was still breathing.

Finally, he’d covered every inch of the leather, done everything he could, and he was going to stop breathing again if he couldn’t be finished, was going to have his throat close up on him from dryness and - and.

He pressed his forehead to his master’s boot again, one last silent plea before he crawled slightly backward, away.

He could feel his master’s eyes on him, on him and not on the boots at all, and he tried not to squirm under that gaze, not to shrink farther toward the ground or try to evade.

Finally, his master started moving, walking away without a word to him, and then sat on the side of the bed and took his boots off, looking thoughtfully at them while Oswin tried not to move, tried not to look afraid when he wasn’t allowed to be, tried not to look like he was trying to be more pathetic than he was, tried to keep breathing.

“You can have a drink of water,” his master said after a moment, “But you’re sleeping on the floor.”

Oswin was exhausted, half dazed, and he couldn’t work out how to answer as a dog, could barely work out how to answer as a human. “Yes, master,” he whispered. And then - “Thank you, master.”

He didn’t have the energy, when his master placed a bowl of water on the floor, to wonder when he’d brought it up here, how long he’d been planning this. He just crawled forward and drank from it, right there beside his master’s bed, lowering his head all the way into the bowl to drink awkwardly from it and trying to think only of the relief of cleaning his mouth out, of wetting his throat, of breathing easier, of feeling less like he might gag.

He drank what he could and then pulled away, certain of one thing and one thing only. When he was rested, he could think of getting away again. For now, he could make sure his master didn’t make anything worse.

He pressed his forehead to each of his master’s stocking feet in turn, and stilled without moving away when the man’s hand reached for him, tipping his chin up so that he had to look into those cold brown eyes.

“You’re pathetic,” the man said, his voice half growl, half disdain.

Oswin knew what answer was wanted. “Yes, master.” It was almost a whisper, but he knew the man would hear, knew how hard he was listening.

“If you make me break you, I will.”

“Yes, master.”

“Anything you do for me, I will ask of you again,” he continued, voice growing quieter, more thoughtful. He patted Oswin on the side of the face, “Remember that before you pretend to be more broken than you are. I don’t like playing games.”

“I understand, master.”

The man rose to his feet again. “Sleep on the floor. And if you make a sound after I so kindly removed that gag for you, I will strangle you until you die under my fingers and then I will make you wear the gag again when he returns you to me.”

The Captain didn’t even look back as he made the threat, moving steadily back to his chest of drawers to get his nightshirt.

“Yes master,” Oswin answered, more loudly, so that it would carry all the way to his master’s ears, hoping he wasn’t about to die for it, “I understand.”

His master’s only answer was a short grunt, and then Oswin tucked himself away, halfway under the edge of the bed, his tongue falling silent. He had a lot to think about, but for now - for now his mind was as tired as his body, strung out and wrung dry.

He fell asleep quickly, his body curling protectively in on itself even in slumber.

#whump #pet whump #fantasy whump #d&d whump #dehumanization tw #gags tw #choking tw #threats tw #oswin series #anyway things are not gonna be this awful forever? #he's just not healed enough yet to really get to have and keep his brain all the time #he will be eventually #for now he's just holding on the best he can #they're playing 3d chess but he's too tired to keep track of it just now

[ollypopwrites]

[ undress ] with Din perhaps? 🥺

[ undress ]  to slowly start undressing from this prompt list. 

a/n: soooo this got outa hand lmao. i just got in my Din feelings. 

wordcount: 1K

WARNINGS: soft SMUT 18+ only, nudity,  body worship (a little), a bit angsty but mostly fluffy. 

Your life on the Razor Crest can be a little hectic. When trouble hits it seems to hit hard, the kid needs a lot of attention and so does the ship and Din’s always got a quarry that needs tracking. It’s become a real partnership, and he had so much to think about and deal with before you came around that he can’t really remember how he managed before. You are not just a loyal, reliable crewmate but you are also a patient and open-hearted partner. 

Din is not the best at words. He’s certain anything he can come up with to say isn’t going to do how he feels about you justice. 

It puts him in a bit of a bind, because what else can he do? He protects and provides and cares for you when he can but there’s only so much a man who can never reveal his face can do to really show you how he feels besides saying so. But he tries. 

It shocks you a little, the first time he guides you to sit down so he can unlace the worn and dirty boots you stomped around the ship in. He’s undressed you before but you can only remember him getting off clothes that are in his way, not him taking his time to pull your socks off your feet and set them aside with your boots. He lifts your shirt over your head, attempts to fold it nicely but ultimately fails so it's more of a half rumpled mess, and sets it aside as well. 

His gloveless hands linger over the skin of the tops of your breasts, then trace the line of the band towards your back so he can unclasp it. The thin straps fall down your shoulders and he gently hooks his fingers in them to pull them down. 

He’s a little distracted by your bared skin, as he always is. For a man who has sworn to never show his own skin, he takes such a keen interest in the sight and feel of yours. So much so that he even likes to watch you stretch your arms over your head when you wake up in the morning, just to see the sliver of skin on your stomach that is revealed when your shirt rides up. 

Din’s fingers play over the top of your breasts and over the curves of them, your nipples tighten when he runs calloused thumbs over them. Your skin is so fucking soft it makes him dizzy sometimes; he can’t stop touching and caressing and if he has the time and inclination he’ll lift the visor up to taste you. 

Always so you can’t see his face, and you do respectfully close your eyes when you see his hand come to the edge of it out of habit. He can only smell so much from underneath the helmet but that close he memorizes the scent of you -- that soap you bought from a street vendor in Nevarro, sometimes a little smoke if you spent time soldering things, and something else that’s just you. 

He guides you up to your feet and watches you through the visor as he starts to undo your pants. For all you know, he’s staring at your breasts but you have a feeling he isn’t as you stare back into the darkness of the visor where you think his eyes might be. 

You half expected him to pull your pants and panties off separately, but he doesn’t seem to mind cutting that corner as he tugs them both down over your ass and down your thighs. He lets you put your hands on his shoulders for balance, the beskar a little colder than the room, as he gently bends one of your legs at the knee to slide the pants off and then the other. 

Finally, you’re completely naked and he’s on his knees in front of you, visor tilted upwards at you as you keep your hands on the pauldrons of the armor he holds so sacred. His hands are on your hips, the only skin he’s showing except for the sliver of the skin of his throat you can see between his shirt and the helmet. His thumbs gently move back and forth over your skin and it’s a firm grip he has on you, his fingers pressing into your skin but it doesn’t hurt at all. 

You aren’t really sure what this is, but there’s a reason behind it you’re sure. The air has a sort of thickness in it, and you know he’s thinking something behind the blank mask of the helmet but you can’t be sure of what it is.  

It’s almost reverent. 

He tips the visor, pressing his forehead to your skin and it’s cold. Normally this situation would be erotic in an entirely different way -- you’d feel exposed while he was completely covered and there would be a power dynamic that would send chills down your spine -- but it's not that at all. Din’s the one on his knees in front of you, and if you’re the one who is bared from head to toe why does it feel like he’s the one who is being vulnerable?  

You grip his hands, feeling the warmth of his skin, and when he lays you down in the bunk you press your lips to each knuckle, and then the palm. You hear the crackle of the vocoder as it picks up a sharp breath from underneath the helmet after the first few kisses, and then a barely perceptible groan when your lips meet the inside of his wrist as far down as his shirtsleeve goes.

Din pulls his member out, pants bunched up just a little bit where he shoves them down and slides inside of you --  slow, and gentle. 

It’s a strange dichotomy -- the cold hardness of the beskar that presses against your flesh and the soft warmth of his hands, his cock, and the way he rocks his hips into yours. 

Din’s not very good at words, but he’ll show you when he can. 

@mitchi-c  @leo-moon @altarsw @panslabyrinthx @huliabitch @pascalz @luosymekawa @whatthecensoredxd @cryptkeepersoul @tintinwrites @thirsty-flygirl @bisexual-space-slut @hdlynn @coredrive @himbopoes @dazedrhapsody @oloreaa @imalovernotahater @hayley-the-comet @imaginecrushes @its-bootz @wanderlustmags @revolution-starter @pointy-sharp @satans-tongues @9allisonjean8 @nominalnebula @whovianayesha @plainbrunettelbl @marvelous-capsicle   @jedi-mando @weirdowithnobeardo @whovian_gurl  @giselatropicana @madseawitch @marvelouslytrekking @softly-sad @coonflix @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @kiwi-the-first

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you

[alia-turin-fanfiction]

This is for the amazing @mentoskova hopefully that satisfies at least some of your Sauron/Galadriel needs

Fic tile: A Gift for a Favor Warning: Explicit (nudity, some sexual themes, mention of violence) Fandoms: The Silmarillion Relationship: Sauron/Galadriel AO3 Link

She watched the water running down from the cliff and hitting the ground with loud noise. The mist building around the waterfall almost covered the faint sunlight that already had hard time reaching the ground because of the thick tree crowns. The place was the same from her dream, it felt so real then as it was now, vivid, colours bright and mysterious. One thing her dreams were not clear about was why she was supposed to be here. She dreamt of this place for weeks now and every night the images became clearer and clearer. 

Galadriel looked around, wanting to find a sign, what was special about this place, what was the significance of this location? What was so unusual about it in order to bring her here and not give her rest for such a long time. 

“You came.” Galadriel turned around, to follow the voice, the man who spoke, she knew him, she had seen him with Celebrimbor. The smith, yes. Long gold hairs fell freely down his black and silver robes, sharp eyes stared at her intensely. “I didn’t think you would.” 

“Artano.” she spoke his name, coming closer to him, watching every move, why was he here, what was he doing here? She never trusted the man and she knew neither did her nephew recently. She had her suspicion of who the man was, but she could not prove it. Only sensing, guessing. “Why are you here?”

“I had a dream.” His voice was honey, soft, sweet, could melt iron if he wanted it to, but there was strength to it, power that could bend wills, but not hers, she admired him, but did not fear him. “I saw this place in my dreams and I dreamt that I would meet you and I needed to find it. I looked for weeks until I did...here you are, mistress Galadriel.”

He bowed his head slightly, submission? No, his body was submitting, but not his eyes, there was fire in them, nothing humble about that gaze. 

“Here I am.” she said coming closer to him, placing a finger under his chin and lifting his head up. No submission in his gaze, power, so much power. She tilted her head, those were not the eyes of an elf. “What do you want, smith?”

“A favour, and I will pay with a gift.'' He grabbed her hand, so gently, his touch so warm, he moved it closer to his lips, kissing her fingers. Galadriel could not pull away, was that magic or? No, it wasn’t. She felt enchanted but not by him, she was attracted to the mystery and potentially danger. She could sense the power, greater than hers, probably greater than anyone who currently walked Middle Earth.  

Mairon reached for his pocket with his other hand slowly taking out what he had. He did not fail to notice the ring on the hand he was holding, made of mithril and white stone embedded in it. It had power, no greater than his, but could challenge him nonetheless. He smiled, trying to hide his disappointment. Not in her, but Celebrimbor...the little bastard would pay for it over and over again. He would peel the skin off his flesh for his audacity. 

“A powerful gift, for a powerful favour.” He showed her the ring he was holding and then placed it in her palm. All he needed was for her to put it on her finger, even for a moment she would be his, forever, despite the power of her will. He didn’t even need the rest of them, her strength would be enough to turn them all into the slaves they were always meant to be. 

“What is the favour, Annatar?” her eyes pinned on his, as if she was trying to see in his soul. He had no doubt sooner or later she would figure out who he was, but he did not care now. As long as he could get what he wanted, it didn’t matter. 

“A lock of your hair.” he smiled and reached for her head, his finger hooking a strand of her golden locks and curling it around his digit. 

“Better men than you have asked for that and been refused.” the elfess lips curved into an alluring smile, she was challenging him, but he was yet to discover what the challenge was. 

“I wouldn’t go as far to call Feanor better than me.” he challenged her back, if that was the game they were playing he would be more than happy to accommodate. “Besides, the Spirit of Fire wanted to create beauty for his eyes only. I’m not that selfish, whatever my hands create, will be yours as well.” Mairon released her hair and ran his finger through her porcelain skin. There was power in this woman, strength that he admired and hated at the same time. He needed to possess and subjugate. Her kin was manice, but for her...he had a special place for her. “I can make you a Queen, more powerful and beloved than any King history has ever seen.” 

He watched her carefully, her eyes shining at his words, strong willed was Finwe’s kin, but they all could break, one way or another. Same way he broke her brother, he was going to find a way to break her will. He knew curiosity when he saw it, and he knew how to attract. The elves were cursed like that, a blessing for him. 

Galadriel looked at the ring that had been offered to her. Beautiful creation and even if it had just been placed in her hand she could feel the power. Celebrimbor had created the elven rings, but that was different. Strength that she wanted and was attracted to. For years now she had suspected that the nightmare was back. She had seen it in her dreams, less vivid than this one, more cryptic. Could it be that her nephew worked with the one creature on earth that he should have avoided. Galadierl looked in the elf’s eyes, so different. The color was deep and bright but somehow it felt like it sucked the light out of everything. Could it be? 

“You speak of power and you promise power in return, but all you claim to be is a simple smith working with Celebrimor. Tell me, Gorthaur, did you offer him power as well? Knowledge? Or you just played on his unresolved family issues?” Galadriel watched his expression, but nothing changed there. However, he did not deny his name either, was it too late? Was it now the time he was going to reveal himself and she was just the first of many to fall. One thing she knew for sure, if he was after her, she would not make it easy for him. 

“You see further than I thought.” he offered a reassuring smile, she wondered if that was hesitation or he was just pretending. Was that his plan all along? “You are beautiful and smart my lady.”  He moved his finger from her cheek down to her neck. “But what I said is the truth and nothing else. Celebrimbor is weak like his father and grandfather. You might be an elf, but you are equal to me.” what happened next she did not expect, he fell on his knees, his black and grey robes touching the grass as his head was reaching now just to her belly. “I will rule this place and you could be my Queen.” 

She placed a hand on his face, her fingers brushing against the soft golden hair. What if there was truth to his words? He would try to entrap her, she knew it, but what if her own power could be stronger than his? After all he had been hiding for years, pretending to be someone he wasn’t, needed to build his strength. Was he as strong as he was supposed to be or he was still weak, that was why he needed her. Her eyes moved from him to the river behind them, the sun had already set, but there was still some light coming through the thick leaves. There was one place where her power would be stronger than his. 

“Why don’t you prove yourself to me?” Galadriel made a step back, her eyes not leaving his. “You speak of making me a queen, prove that you are willing to submit, the way you say you are.” 

Mairon watched as the elfess stepped away from him and then turned her back. She walked toward the water as her fingers worked on the ivory dress she was wearing, the fabric peeling from her body as she moved further. His jaw clenched realizing what trick she was playing to him. He got up, trying to think through his options. He could turn around and walk away, he needed her power, he needed to understand the ring that insolent whelp had given her, but it wasn’t that imperative. 

He decided he would play. He cleared the grass that had been stuck to his robes, but his eyes were not leaving her shape. One thing he could say without lying to himself was that her beauty was unparalleled. Even just an elf, she was worthy of being a queen, too bad he did not like sharing. Maybe after he was done with the insolent Celebrimbor, Celeborn would be next and he would claim his queen for real. 

The cold water caressed Galadriel’s skin as she walked in the river, step by step, until the coolness reached her collarbones. She turned around, almost sure Sauron would have walked away by now, deciding the risk was not worth it, but he was still there. His eyes fixed on her and he probably had observed every step she made. Neither of them spoke, she waited. 

He made a step forward, his elegant fingers started working on his coat, he wasn’t in a hurry, she wondered if it was the water that was making this less enticing or it was all part of his plan. The top fell and all that was left was his shirt and pants. He untied his belt, letting it fall behind him as he did another step. His hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and took it off revealing the toned body underneath. Then he untied the laces of his pants and took them off as he walked, just before he stepped in  the river and moved toward her. Galdriel knew that whatever body she was seeing in front of herself was not his own. Not really, he had picked a shape and form that was attractive and he had done well. It was all a trick, and she knew that very well, but her eyes could not move away from the strength of his biceps and the firmness of his chest as he slowly sank into the water.

“Here I am.” he said as he came just inches away from her. “We are almost equal now.” 

“Almost.” One thing she did not plan for was him following her. She was stronger here, but not strong enough to defeat him alone. Galadriel was not even sure at that point if she wanted to defeat him. What he offered was tempering. Wrong and sinful, but she could use it for good…

Mairon had to use all his power to keep his face from showing the pain he was feeling. The water was burning him, the form he had created was strong, but he wondered how strong before he was forced to walk out. He knew that wouldn’t kill him, or hurt him for real, but his power was weaker and he had to be careful. 

He reached again for Galadrield’s face, this time with his palm cupping it almost gently. Affection was not something he understood but he had seen humans and elves give it to each other and he could imitate. He did enjoy the way her skin felt against his touch, the softness and the warmth. It did nothing to calm the pain he was feeling, but there was something additicing to it. She suddenly grabbed his wrist, her palm warm despite the coldness of the water and moved even closer to him, her lips pressing against his and kissed him. 

Galadriel was not sure what possessed her to do that, it was like playing with fire, literally, and she enjoyed it. It was just a kiss, innocent but also forbidden. She wanted to taste the power he had and she did. There was strength in his touch, not just physical, but knowledge he could give her. Power he could reward her with. What if she could  have him? What if she could really be equal to him, or better. Her hand reached for his face, caressing the long strands of hair so soft, like silk, she had never felt anything like it, never seen a color like this…

...because it wasn’t real. She took a step back. His beauty, his words, nothing was real. 

“You give everyone what they want, don’t you?” her hand still on his face, so beautiful. “You tricked Celebrimbor with your gift in smiting, more dwarf this one than an elf. You will trick me with power and strength and then I will end up in chains at your feet.” 

“Cruel.” a smile curved on his lips as he burned his head and kissed the hand that was holding his face. “If I chain you at my feet, that will just ruin your beauty.” He moved the hand that was holding her face to her neck and slid it down to her collarbones. “I have held many of your kin on a chain, they all break. Even poor brave Finrod.” 

Galadriel suddenly snapped from what had taken over her. Her brother’s death was in the past and his own oath and actions brought him to Sauron’s door, but that was a reminder for her. This was the enemy and she was not ready, not yet. Curiosity brought her here and she knew everything she needed to know. She took another step back, somehow disappointed as his touch left her skin. Then another one as she started whispering the words, the water raised, the sound from the waterfall became louder, another step back and she could see the confusion on Sauron’s face just before a wave crashed into him and carried him down the stream. 

Mairon managed to get out of the water a few miles down, he crawled into the dirt and rolled on the grass, the relief from the terrible burning sensation feeling better than anything else. He had been so close to get her, she was going to give herself up, but she was not as stupid as the rest of her kin. It was not all loss. The power in Celebrimbor’s rings was great, now he knew that and all he needed was to find a way to create greater power. 

“Until next time, my radiant lady.” he whispered to the forest as he knew there was going to be next time.

#sauron #galadriel #annatar #Sauron/galadriel #the silmarillion #lotr #my writing

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter IX: Phtonos, The God of Jealousy

Previous Chapter (VIII: Invidia)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): SMUT

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“breaking you is no longer a problem for me.”

he releases your south, but his teeth start grazing into your neck. the pressure exerted wasn’t enough to hurt you, but the friction he was creating was so subtly sensual and triggering. 

you hear the sound of his belt coming undone, yet the back of your thighs were still touching the material of his pants. 

eros pulls your lids open to watch the situation unfold in the mirror, and your hands were clutching onto his arm around your collarbone. red marks were being left on the muscles of his forearm, the ruthless sucking and kissing on your neck only making you even wetter. 

your eyes catch the dim view of his button coming undone, and you barely see the tentage in his boxers before he yanks it low enough. 

“do you need your safe word or are you too horny to even remember you have one?”

the nerves throughout your body begin to shut down one by one upon his query, and the word doesn’t even sink into your bones. all you could think of was how good he made you feel, even if it was against your will. 

never did the word once cross your mind, and it definitely won’t now. 

not when he was prodding at your entrance, like he was begging to bury himself in you; but that was merely your imagination. 

there was no way he was going to beg; you were.

a scoff washes into your neck and leans you forward, lifting your arms and running his fingers over yours onto the rim of the mirror. your heart was already palpitating mindlessly in your chest, and the little edges of the top of his pants were annoyingly tapping everywhere on your south. 

“just as i thought.”

all your energy flushes into your hands around the mirror when he shoves himself into you. the pain that was expected was instantly replaced with pleasure with all your wetness swallowing him easily. 

he starts thrusting extremely slowly, literally taking seconds to pull out completely, leaving only his tip inside you, and pushes back in with the same amount of time taken. 

your head begins to hang in shame again, heavy pants beginning to exit and enter your lungs when your legs start to tremor with the lack of speed. 

either way, you would’ve been losing energy in them anyway. 

“i wonder if eric can taste me on your tongue the next time he kisses you.”

the lack of sound from behind knocks it into your head and body that on top of how disgustingly wet you were, he was going at a speed that was forcing all the tears out around to your lids. 

“oh, do tell, tiger,” the rate he pushes in makes you feel the vein on his shaft on your left wall. “what were you expecting to happen with eric?”

he drags himself out like he was afraid to hurt you, but the pace was crushing you even more than if he wasn’t.

"were you hoping that he'll take you out on a date? or did you think he'll invite you over to his place and fuck you on the kitchen counter before he cooks you dinner?"

your waist gets wrapped with his palms, and he buries himself inside you inch by second. 

the tears finally push through your tightly shut lids, a drop or two falling to the ground. your breathing becomes louder and even more laboured when he stops moving and plants his lips on your spine instead.

a sniffle escapes your nose and the gulp that pushed down your throat was so loud, it incites a harsh suck on your lower back. 

“do you think eric can make you cry like i do?”

the noise that seethed through your teeth was a mixture of a wince, a whimper and a moan, and even you couldn’t decipher was noise that was. all you wanted for him to do was to start moving and to stop being such a pesky little piece of shit. 

“answer me, darling,” the command licks itself over your spine again, and having him buried so deeply inside you was doing nothing except whitening your knuckles around the edge of the mirror. 

“will eric ever be able to make you feel like this?”

your head drops in shame again, your fists beginning to shiver when he twitches inside you. 

“tell me, tiger, or we’ll stay like this for as long as i want you to stay like this.”

time literally freezes, and you feel nothing but his breath on the skin of your back. his palm was pressed against your stomach under you, and the occasional twitching inside you was searching for an edge to push you over. 

eros wins again, and ares starts to wear away, and it becomes a wonder if he’s ever going to be the same again. 

“...no, he can’t.”

“who can’t what?”

“...eric... can’t... make me feel like this...”

your legs were already being torn apart by shivers and small spasms; if it wasn’t for his hand on your stomach supporting you, you would’ve been on the floor by now. the aura that blanketed him significantly got less threatening, though not anywhere near safe, when he leans his chest against your back.

“very good, you’re learning,” he kisses your right shoulder blade, and the light contact sends your insides into a frenzy. “what else, darling?”

if it’s anything the last session taught you, it’s that he was true to his word: if you didn’t say what he wanted to hear, there was not going to be an end to this.

“only you... can make me feel like this, hyunjae.”

the weight of that confession starts to nip, tear, cut and slice its way through your gut. if you had to choose the most humiliating thing you’ve ever had to do in your life, it would be saying this line. 

his kisses become sloppy along your back, oozing with lust and arrogance while he smiles into your skin.

“you should start to realise that breaking you is no longer a problem for me, so i suggest you think twice before you challenge me.”

tears start to run off your face profusely, and you could already feel the weight and drying lines of mascara and liner tracing your cheekbones and your jaw. 

“but you’ve been such a good kitten, and i’m a man of my word.”

with that last line, he pulls away and he pulls himself out, the sudden emptiness causing you to gasp. but your dripping core invites him back in, this time with so much force that your entire body jerked forwards, and the mirror shifted along with the impact. 

he pulls you up by your arms, and he starts thrusting against the flesh of your ass. your wrists were held next to his hips where you could feel the end of his belt thumping against the side of your ass, and his left hand fondles recklessly with your chest. his nose dips into your neck again and your head tilts to the side to grant him access, and your eyes open for a second when you feel your high inching closer with every thrust he pushes into you.

the mirror was just large enough to show you every spot where you were combined, and the darkness of his pants around his legs in contrast to your complete nudity was making you feel so torn apart. 

eros was starting to convince you that you liked him having power over you, and the worst part of it was that you were buying it.

he hips jerk into you like his life depended on it, and your head throws back into his shoulder when his tip starts knocking on the door of your climax. your lips fall apart to let all the lewd sounds escape your lungs, and just when the pitch hits its high, he stops.

chills run through your body when your high starts to fade away, and he pulls out of you with a soft ‘pop’. your teeth bare themselves through a soft whine while he pulls you away from the mirror. 

your chest comes into contact with his, and your waist receives the extreme heat his hands were giving off. 

“not yet, tiger,” the huff lands on your lips before he kisses you, hands fumbling around his hips to remove his pants. “not yet.”

the beer coming off his tongue was slowly diluting onto yours, and when the taste began to fade completely, that’s when you realised you were giving yourself to him.

willingly.

he walks you backwards and the back of your knees hit the seat of a sofa. goosebumps erupt all over you when he lays you down by your waist into the seat, and he breaks away to turn you around on your knees.

the kisses he was leaving all over your shoulder and back really wasn’t doing much besides push out gentle mewls and moans. your elbows rest on the top of the backrest, and his soaked shaft slides back into you with one slow push. 

air gets sucked into your chest as your eyes flutter shut, and you bite on your bottom lip in attempt to stifle all the moans that were piling up in the back of your throat. his weight comes down on your back with his hands interlocking with yours, stretched out over the backrest. 

the span of his shoulders rest over yours, and you could barely see anything of the ceiling in your peripheral vision. the warmth from his chest seeps into the pores of your back atop the heat in your south, and you thought about how small you looked under him while he pushed into and pulled out of you.

you thought about how lewd the sight was, but it only made it easier for your body to swallow him.

grunts and low groans begin to pollute the air around your ears, and your eyes fixate themselves on the veins along his arms and marks you left on his skin from before. his entire body jerks with every thrust, and your skin ripples along with the movement. 

his tongue finds the edge of your ear and he starts kissing your skin like it was glass, the sensation pouring waves of pleasure over you. 

every thrust pushes out a whimper from you; there was nothing in your head besides the kissing and the amount of satisfaction he was providing you. tears gather in your eyes again when you feel your high getting closer, a high-pitched whimper running through your teeth while your fists clenched with his fingers between yours. 

but he recognised that pitch, and so he stops, again.

“hyunjae...”

“mm, kitten?”

his hands wrap around your waist once more, and he flips you back while pulling you downwards, your legs raised off the sofa and your ass resting on the edge. 

your head gets thrown back into the backrest when you realise what he was waiting for. 

sealing your eyes shut squeezed out the tears already collected along the surface, and your thighs get pushed up into the air. the movement slaps some pinch of consciousness into you, and looking down to see him dipping his nose into your core sends all of you into a violent mess. 

“wait, hyunjae-- hng--”

the train of thought gets shoved off its track by eros when you see hyunjae stick his tongue into you, and his thumb begins drawing circles on your swollen, sensitive nub. 

his hair gets tangled in your fingers while your hip anchors into the sofa by his strength. the overwhelming pleasure pulls your chin to the ceiling, your eyes rolling back so far into your head, you felt a second of headache. 

loud moans start to trickle down the corners of your lips, and the tears begin to run off the sides of your face when he replaces his tongue with his fingers. 

your grip on his hair loosens and tightens over and over again with every small nerve he hits. your calves start to weigh down and he lets you rest them over his shoulder, your toes still curled up inside your boots. 

the incessant sucking on your skin starts to rip you apart, his tongue flicking against you and the thinner, yet pleasurable, feeling of his fingers inside you was enough to help you find your edge for the third time. 

the mewls and whimpers gradually hit a pitch that he recognised now, and the agony you felt inside when you realised what he would do if you didn’t say anything was too difficult to contain. 

“hyunjae,” the name rolls off your tongue and towards the ceiling, your trembling hands still gripping to his hair. “let me-- please--”

one harsh suck on you wasn’t enough to push you into bliss, so he stops and the disappearing climax starts to piss you off. 

his thumb cleans the corner of his lips as he gets up, and the sweat was sticking his fringe to his forehead. the definition of his torso starts to eat away at you, and your head falls to the side with a loss of dignity when he walks away. 

your eyes flutter shut, already extremely frustrated that he’s denied you your bliss three times now. but your lids fly open instantly when his footsteps return before you, and his fingers stroke your jaw to make you look at him. 

the napkin with the number on it was dangling between the index finger and thumb of his free hand.

for a split second, your sexual needs vanished and ares kicks you in the gut, forcing out angry groan. 

“i’d offer you the chance to rip it apart yourself so i can ruin you without doing anything,” the edge of the napkin gets slowly torn apart. “but i decided to take your advice and do something for myself.”

and the soft shred of the napkin tears it into half. 

your heart drops, but your body wants nothing but him.

he stacks the two halves and rips it into four, and he repeats it over and over until the each piece was smaller than his fingernail. his lips were pursed as he carried out the task, and you watch with spent effort.

the little pieces get balled in his fist and thrown behind over his shoulder, the shredded napkin falling to the ground like snow as he lands both his arms next to your shoulders against the backrest.

“now that that’s out of the way...” his fingers pull on the zipper around your ankles and he pushes your shoes off. “let’s see how loud you can get while i make you come.”

he pulls your hips to his groin and slams in loudly, the sudden contact piercing through the air with a loud smack. the inappropriate noises start to budge their way through your gritted teeth, but he shoves his tongue against yours, allowing himself to drink all your pleasure. 

breaking away to let you catch your breath, your neck becomes the target of his attention. his arms find its way around your waist as he locks you against his, chest pressed against his and his flexed toned stomach from the position was making you lose all sense of reality. 

your nails start to dig into his back muscles when he manages to go deeper with each thrust, and the lewd sounds were going into his ears like music. 

“fuck-- hyunjae, i’m--”

“come for me, kitten.”

kitten.

that last thrust really did it, and your spine shakes up your entire body within his hold. every shiver and every tremor tears through your nerves and muscular system, and the inhumane growl that escaped your throat gets muffled with his lips coming between yours. 

the aggressive thumping in your chest starts to calm when your climax comes down from its high, and you were expecting him to pull out and release all over you with the least bit of respect.

but not only does he not release on you, he doesn’t release at all.

the look in his eyes was so proud and blatant, your eyes widen in surprise when he looked like he didn’t just screw you over.

he emptily plants a kiss between your lips again before picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, your arms circling around his shoulders instinctively for support. 

if he wasn’t holding you so close to his chest like a baby, your spent legs would given up and dropped yourself to the ground. 

still panting, he lets you rest your head in his collar as he walks up the stairs, leaving all your clothes and that little puddle of shredded napkin in living room. 

you could feel your wetness and the aftermath of your high trickling down your inner thighs with each step he took, and it wasn’t long before a door was opened behind you and he drops you into a bed. 

the scent of the room was nothing short of smelling like him; the scent of his cologne and whatever products he used in his hair or whatever, made you feel so intoxicated. 

why the hell are you here?

your tired eyes shut when he kisses you again, the soft squelch of your tongues against each other sounding like both lust and hatred, but you couldn’t tell which of the two you were feeling anymore. your fingers start to run up his nape and into his hair on the back of his head when he harshly sucks on your neck, and this time round, you were sure he was going to leave marks. 

his warm palm start to fumble with your chest, but his left hand travels south. 

it wasn’t long before you feel him prodding at your wet-again core, and having the tip of him slide up and down your entrance was pushing you towards your mindless needs again.

“i hope you don’t think you’re done, kitten... because i’m not.”

both his palms start to play with your chest as his pelvis anchors forward, your walls stretching out for him all over again. 

the nerves in your hands were contracting themselves around in his hair and your eyes flutter shut when his lips wrap around the tips of your breasts.

your back arcs off the mattress, and he shoves you back down with his force pressing into your hips. 

the thrusts were slower, and you feel all the lines and veins on his shaft each time he drags out of you. you were starting to feel sore between your legs, but just picturing him disappearing inside you was unfortunately redeeming.

the smell of his hair starts to linger in your nose over the smell of your fluids trickling out of you. your tongue hits the roof of your mouth and your skin starts to burn with every kiss, suck, mark, he leaves on you.

your diminishing energy wasn’t doing you the favour of keeping your mouth shut, for the lewd sounds return to the atmosphere in whimpers and moans, every now and then his name rolling off your tongue with your eyes closed. 

your voice becomes airy as it gradually increases its pitch, and you could feel his sweat starting to drip onto your chest with a smirk wrapped around the flesh of your breast.

“since you wanted to come so badly, let’s see how many times i can make you come.”

he really needs to shut the fuck up.

the climax races through you without warning, and you just now realise you were crying again. the mixture of dried mascara and liner felt thick and messy around your face; for a moment, you worried if you stained his bedsheet.

but before that thought could ride itself out, your entire body doesn’t stop jerking with the thrusts he was providing you. 

the orgasm doesn’t stop, and it instead becomes overwhelmingly overstimulating.

not only that, he pulls away and starts to rub harsh circles on your nub right where you were already sore from the merciless fucking. 

the tears become uncontrollable when the immense sensation peels your nerves apart, your legs already extremely spent from all that he was doing to you. 

“hyunjae... oh, fuck-- hyunjae-- oh, my god--”

your chin tilts to the ceiling and the crown of your head presses into the cushion.

“oh, shi-- hyunjae-- hyunjae!”

“third time’s the charm, kitten.”

it shouldn’t have been possible, but you come again on top of another climax. 

the bedsheet was balled in your hands while your entire body goes into harsh spasms, and he holds your hips down again, chasing his own high with a few more violent thrusts.

the vein on his neck looked like it was about to burst, and there were more surfacing on his arms which he used the last hour or so destroying the hell out of you. 

a low -- almost painful -- groan runs through his throat when he pulls out, and the load that landed on the floor looked close to unnatural. 

the room was nothing short of the scent of sex and sweat and aggressive panting. 

your half hooded eyes were on the verge of closing, a muscle somewhere inside you still freezing up like a cramp every few seconds. 

the sweat on your forehead and his sweat on your chest comes off when he returns with a warm towel, which you don’t even recall seeing him move off to get it.

your legs were pulled apart and the rough material of the cloth gets dragged around your soreness and thighs.

a beep sounded somewhere in the room, and cool air starts to blast down on your legs, but you were so exhausted from the ruthless sex that not a single nerve responds to the sudden change in temperature.

your consciousness was already beginning to flit in and out of blackness, and it returns momentarily for you to realise that you were covered in a blanket now.

a blanket that smelled like him.

a rustle holds your attention for just a second, but the light shutting off hurls you into complete unconsciousness. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter X: Medium Duorum

A/N: i need holy fucking water...

#hyunjae #the boyz hyunjae #hyunjae fanfic #hyunjae smut #lee hyunjae #the boyz fanfic #nope #yeeting myself outta here

[barney-james]

Reunion Drama || Chris Evans Imagine

{anon} Can I request Chris finding out you and you’re male best friend used to be friends with benefits

A/n i’m not sure how it got where it did my mind just kind of ran, but i love this, also it’s long and probably should’ve been broken into parts, but i’m one of those people who most of the time won’t read something on here in multiple parts (i don’t know why lmao). It also saves the waiting for the next part and easier to put in the masterlist i’m going to make.

Warnings angsty and sad, fluff and nudity at the end but no smut

*gif not mine*

The shower turns off in the bathroom, and through the open door, you can hear your boyfriend get out and sigh. You lean in the door way and look at him, his back facing you as he wraps a clean white towel around his hips. He looks up in the mirror, seeing you staring at him from behind. 

“Like what you see?” he smirks, folding the towel in so it won’t fall.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his usual cockiness. “You know,” you begin, walking across the tile towards him, your hand brushing water out of the hair at the base of his neck. “I’d tease you about taking longer than me to get ready, but you waited until the absolute last second to get in the shower.” You run your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp.

“I didn’t take that long,” he chuckles. “It’s fine.”

“I have been sitting out there, getting wrinkles in my dress and scrolling through channels on the TV for 45 minutes,” you explain. “You decided it best to start getting ready when I’m completely done. Why’d you take 45 minutes anyway?”

“Had to carefully trim the beard, babe,” he retorts, turning his head and kissing you cheek. He steps away from you and grabs his deodorant off of the counter. “Besides, we’ll still get there in time.”

“It started 20 minutes ago, Chris,” you laugh, poking his sides and making him jolt.

“Fashionably late is on time these days. Why are you in such a rush? You hate everyone that’s going to be there.”

“Ethan’s been there waiting.” Your best friend since childhood, Ethan, was also attending the event this evening, seeing as how it’s a 20 year high school reunion. He’d gotten to know Chris pretty well, and they got along well when he’d come visit you in Boston. 

“Will you use my phone to get an Uber?” your fiance asks, looking at you over his shoulder. “It’s on the dresser. I just need to get dresses. Give me like 5 minutes.” He turns and kisses your head, following you out of the bathroom. 

You grab his phone off the dresser and stand by the window, looking at the final moments of the sunset as you wait for the Uber app to load. 

“10 minutes,” you tell him, turning around to see him already buttoning up his shirt. “How do you get dressed so fast?”

“I wear formal clothes a lot more than the average person, honey,” he says as you walk over to him. He grabs a tie from the dresser and wraps it around his neck, waiting for you to tie it for him like you usually do.

“It’s not that special,” you laugh. “You don’t need a tie.” You slide the silk material through your fingers.

“But look at you,” he gestures to you. “You look all dressed up and pretty.” His hands fall to your waist and you smile, pulling him closer to you by the tie still draped over his shoulders. You connect your lips to his in a hot passionate kiss. He pulls your hips closer to him, trying to wrap his arms around you, but you pull away.

You slide the tie out of his collar and put it back on the dresser. When you look back at him, your lipstick had smeared over his lips messily. You wipe your thumb across his lips, biting your lip.

“You can’t do that if you’re really going to make me go out in 5 minutes,” he says sternly, looking into your eyes. 

You step back from him and back into the bathroom to fix your lipstick.

“Uber’s here, babe,” Chris calls into the bathroom.

You meet him by the door and unlock it, open it and wait for him. He grabs the door and meets you in the hall, walking with you arm in arm to the elevator. You sit in comfortable silence while waiting to reach the lobby. You look over at him lovingly, smiling, and see that his shirt is still buttoned up all the way as he thought he’d wear a tie. You turn to him, pulling his arm so he faces you, too, and you undo the top few buttons on the shirt, revealing the perfect about of skin. 

The elevator door opens and you’re still toying with his shirt. He clears his throat and you look up at him, scrunch your nose cutely and walk out of the elevator with his hand in yours. As you walk out of the hotel lobby and to the Uber, Chris steps ahead of you and opens the door for you. You thank him as you duck your head and get into the car. A short moment after closing your door, he opens the door on the other side of the car and gets in himself.

“Smells like rain,” he comments, grabbing your hand.

“That’s typical.”

You engage in casual conversation with your driver, mostly Chris as you sit nervously smoothing your hands over your satin dress. Chris notices and simply squeezes your thigh, knowing you’re nervous to see all your old class mates again.

When you reach the venue, you thank the driver, and get out before Chris could reach your side of the car to help you. He looks at you disapprovingly and you just nudge his shoulder and grab his hand. You pull your phone out of your clutch and text Ethan to let him know you’ve arrived.

“Ah shit,” you hear Chris say beside you. You look over at him confused and see him tucking his shirt into his pants. “You noticed the buttons but not that it was untucked?”

“Cuffs, too,” you point out, and he buttons his cuffs while you walk with your arm in his into the old school gym. The music is loud, and of course it’s mostly 90s and early 2000s.

“I have to piss,” you hear Chris say.

“Oh my god, Chris,” you laugh. “We just got here.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies adjusting his pants. You point him towards the bathroom, he kisses your cheek quickly and walks off. 

You begin to make your way over to the bar they’ve set up, and Ethan catches up with you.

“Y/n!” the familiar voice calls. You turn to see him rushing towards you, and you pull him into a hug. “Where’s Chris?” he asks when he pulls away from your friendly embrace. 

“Bathroom,” you roll your eyes.

“Of course,” he laughs. “Let’s get you a drink.”

Ethan walks with you to the bar, catching up with you since it had been a couple months since you had last seen each other. Of course there wasn’t much new to talk about since you’d text and call him every time something exciting or annoying happens.

When you reach the bar, you notice name tags sitting at the far end. ‘oh geez,’ you think to yourself and go to find yours.

“I already grabbed it for you,” Ethan says, fishing it out of his pocket. “Don’t want anyone seeing your school photo from senior year.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you laugh and take the tag from your friend, noticing that he had crossed out ‘Ms Y/n Y/l/n’ and put ‘soon Mrs Y/n Evans’. You laugh at your best friend and his silliness.

“Oo, I haven’t seen it yet,” Ethan says and grabs your left hand, holding it up to his face to inspect your engagement ring. “So much prettier than the pictures, hon.”

“Thanks,” you blush.

“That man sure does have a wallet,” he pesters you. 

You look at him with the ‘stop it’ face, and he puts his hands up, defeated. You both hear his name get called, and he turns to see his girlfriend waving him over. You wave at her politely and she smiles back at you. 

Ethan looks at you. “Get him to send me a link,” he says, pointing to your ring with a wink as he walks back to his date.

You straighten your back, standing tall trying to hid your nerves of currently being alone at this horrid event. You only came to flaunt Chris. He wasn’t your only accomplishment, but he’s the one most people would notice, or talk about. 

The bartender hands you your drink, you thank him and put it down beside you while you stuff the name tag into you purse, not wanting to put it on.

“Y/n?” you hear a voice call. You look up and see a woman parade towards you.

You curse to yourself, wishing you hadn’t been noticed. Your personality and style had changes a lot in the past 20 years, and you rarely post online, but your face never really changes.

Except for her. You recognized most people here, but you didn’t recognize her, yet she wore a name tag, so she had gone to your school. You couldn’t quite read the name tag, and as politely as possible, you look at her quizzically, silently asking who she is.

“It’s Stephanie!” she say excited. Your taken aback. You thought she was overly pretty in high school, being a popular cheerleader, but apparently not pretty enough, because she had obviously had some unnecessary work done. Talk a bout a Karen. Not only did her appearance surprise you, but the fact that she was talking to you. She had been a terrible friend, that you wish you’d never had, and you both said some nasty things at graduation. Why is she acting like nothing happened? 

“Oh, hi,” you greet her. She starts a dreaded, yet casual conversation to catch up, luckily focusing it on herself so you don’t have to talk about you, but that’s natural for her -- being the center of attention. She tells you about her husband, a lawyer, who unfortunately couldn’t make it to the event. She tells you she’s his secretary, and that they have 3 kids. 4, 9, and 15. You zone out at the rest, wondering how she met a lawyer and had a kid with him at 23. It seemed unreal for her to actually find real love and not just be playing a game. You concluded that they probably hooked up once or twice, and she got pregnant and with her master manipulation somehow convinced him to stay. 

“What about you?” she asks, and your shoulders drop, not wanting to talk about your own life. “I heard you and Ethan started sleeping together in college. He’s always been hot. Is that still a thing?”

“No, it’s not. I’m -” you begin but get interrupted buy someone clearing their throat behind Stephanie. She turns around and sees Chris standing behind her. 

Chris looks surprised, angry even, He considered Ethan a friend at this point, but he was unaware of the fact he just heard. You didn’t think to mention it, it having been so many years ago. It didn’t seem relevant or important until Stephanie let it slip.

She was dumb-struck looking at Chris. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed. “I heard you were here. I didn’t want to believe it until I saw it for myself. Who are you here with?” 

Chris walks around her and over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “My fiance,” he answers. He grabs your hand and holds it out for Stephanie to see the large rock on your left ring finger. You blush as her jaw practically hits the floor. 

She takes a step closer to the two of you, Chris towering over you both. “How much did she pay you?” she laughs, obviously not believing the situation. “How did she pay you? She certainly couldn’t afford something this extreme.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, thinking it typical of her. Chris looks at her in disbelief and pulls you away from the snooty bitch, his arm wrapped tightly around you. He pulls you out of the gym to the lobby, walking so fast you could barely keep up, and you were stumbling over your heels. 

“Chris what’re you doing?” you ask, worried. 

He drops his arm from around you and turns away from you, several steps away. he runs his hands over his face and through his hair. 

“Chris?” you say again, more concerned. He only ever acted like this when he was mad, and seeing him mad was never pleasant.

He turns back to you, dropping his arms by his side. “How long?”

“How long what, Chris?” you are still very confused. 

“Don’t bullshit me and try to play dumb, Y/n,” he says, his voice gradually getting louder. “How long were you and Ethan sleeping together?”

You sigh, finally realizing what this was about. You could always tell he was wary of Ethan, you just wondered how long it would take him to say something. You look up at him, a mix of angry and sad tears prickling your eyes.

“How long?!” he yells.

You wince, feeling lucky that the music in the gym was so loud. “A year or two,” you say quietly and he huffs, throwing his arms up in the air, “but it doesn’t matter.” 

Chris turns away from you again, facing the wall and slamming his hand against it. You know it wasn’t anywhere near full force because he showed no sign of the impact against the brick wall hurting him. You jump back, intimidated by him. 

“There were never any strings attached,” your voice cracks. “It was purely friends with benefits. We both just needed the physical affection.” As you try to explain, you step closer to him, putting your hand on his shoulder as he leans against his forearm up against the wall with his head hanging, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He jerks away from your touch as soon as your hand grazes his shirt. “Do you know how many ‘friends with benefits’ relationships end in feelings, Y/n?” he looks at you, astounded. “Your mom always wanted you to marry him anyway!” He takes a few breaths, but you don’t dare try to interrupt him. “And you just expect me to believe that Hot-Shot Ethan, who can have whoever the fuck he wants, chose to fuck around with you?” His voice is louder than it had ever been when talking to you.

His words hit you like a slap across the face. Like high school all over. Before college, before you cut off trying to find a romantic interest, all you had ever been was used, played, lead on. Then forgotten about or thrown away. A sob wracks through your body, and you take off your engagement ring. The logical part of you knows he’s just saying this because he’s mad, and he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him if he were just using you. But then your paranoid and insecure side tells you he is, that he’s just with you because the media thinks he needs a wife. It tells you you’ve never been good enough, and you never will be. You grip the ring tightly in your hand, the stone pressing into your soft skin. 

“He trusts me, Chris,” you say weakly, covering your sobs with your other hand. “And I thought you did, too.” Your voice is broken, and you sound nothing like your normally composed self. You press your hand with the ring against his chest. “I thought you loved me. But apparently I’m wrong about a lot of things.” You let the ring drop from your hand as you pull away from him and trudge away, your broken heart making it difficult for you to walk straight. You hear Chris calling after you, asking you to wait. Saying not to go, but you ignore his pleads and open the door, stepping into the rain unfazed, letting your feet take you anywhere away from here. 

Chris watches you leave, wanting to run after you but glued to the spot. The words that left his mouth astound him. The creaky gym door open behinds him, and he swings around to see Ethan walking towards him. Chris wants to scream, maybe even throw a punch, but all energy suddenly sucked from his body, he can only collapse on the bench next to him. 

“What’s wrong?” Ethan asks as Chris hangs his head in his hands and puts pressure on his eyes with his palm. “I asked Stephanie where Y/n went, she said you pulled her out of the gym really suddenly.”

“I should be screaming at you right now,” Chris says, his voice loud, but hoarse from the need to cry burning his throat. “How could you to just hide the fact you were sleeping together and go around like it never happened. Are you still?”

Realization hits Ethan. Stephanie hears everything about everyone, and word spreads fast, especially since you and Ethan both went to the local university. She would spill anything she hears in high school, craving the drama. Evidently, some people never change. 

“That was nothing,” Ethan explains. “We were both lonely college kids, and old friends who needed company. We were comfortable around each other, it was just easy. But it meant nothing. Not feelings developed on either side.”

“Why’d you stay friends with her?” Chris’ voice finally breaks.

“We’ve been best friends since kindergarten, and we mutually agreed to stop when we left college. I’m not just going to abandon her like everyone else she let close. It shouldn’t matter. We didn’t think it would because she loves and is completely committed to you. You should at least know by now that she doesn’t take loyalty lightly.”

Chris’ body shakes as he tries to hold back his tears and he doesn’t say anything. 

A shiny glint a ways from Chris’ foot, and bends down, finding your engagement ring on the ground. “Where’d she go?” Ethan asks, picking up the ring. “Where’s Y/n, Chris?”

“She left,” Chris sobs. “I -” he inhales deeply. “I told her a hot-shot like you wouldn’t chose her.”

“Chris, what the fuck?!”

“I know! I-I just couldn’t bare the thought of losing her to you -- to someone she’s known her whole life. I just love her so much any possible threat of losing her blinds me and I just say stupid shit that I don’t really think. I can’t lose her; she’s the best thing to every happen to me.”

Ethan, knowing you so well, and loving you like a sister, fights the urge to hit Chris, knowing he’ll most likely lose, for one, and for two that won’t help the situation. Chris is already extremely distraught, so there’s no need to physically drill him with the emotional damage he’s done.

“I know where she might me,” Ethan starts. “I’ll go find her. You go back to the hotel before you do anything else you’ll regret.”

Chris jumps off the bench, angry. “No, you stay the hell away from her! Just because I fucked up by saying that shit doesn’t mean I trust you,” he yells, almost the top of his voice, and jabs a finger into Ethan’s chest, pushing him backwards slightly. 

“I know her better than you do, jackass,” Ethan yells back at Chris. “She won’t talk to you anyway, at least not now. We’re best friends, and I have always been there for her as she has for me. One thing I do know without being with her right now, Y/n needs you. Not because she can’t support herself, but because she loves you so damn much. But after what you just said, her walls are going to built back higher than they were when you met her because she feels like she can’t have you. And if she can’t have you -- the love of her life -- then she won’t want anyone. So she needs me. She needs a friend’s shoulder to cry on, someone to tell her everything is going to be okay. Someone she can trust and vent to like she always has. So, yeah, Chris. I am going to find her.”

Ethan turns and walks out the doors before Chris can protest further, shoving your engagement ring in his pocket in hopes of convincing you to take it, and Chris back. He get’s outside, and a nostalgic feeling hits him, and guides him to the most logical place you’d be before he could even thing about it. He did think about it once he realized where he was going. And he felt like a teenager again, running after his best friend who just got her heart ripped out. That was true, accept he was twenty years older now. So he goes to the place you’d always run and hide, where he could always find you when he lost you. He goes to the park, a couple streets over from the school. The walk is longer than he remembers, and he sympathizes for you, thinking about the heels and dress you’re wearing, how cold you must be in the freezing rain with no jacket, only a thin dress. The walk always seemed shorter and less inclined as a kid, but that was probably because being 20 years younger gave you more energy.

He reaches the park, passing the play grounds you and him used to play on as kids, and even some as teenagers. He heads to the back, where a large open space sits, a stage at the front of it. Local bands or school music groups would play on the stage sometimes, mostly during the holidays, otherwise it was unused. As he had suspected, he saw you sitting on the stage, your feet hanging off the edge. He walks closer, picking his pace to a faster jog, and stops at the wall of the stage, when he’s below you, making you look at him as you look at your feet. 

You look at his worried expression when you see him, and the tears the stopped not long ago came running back. You thought you had dried out your eyes to the point you couldn’t cry anymore, but it turns out you were emotionally numb to the pain you’ve already felt. Cut the knife into the wound more, and you could still feel it.

Ethan climbs the stage, sitting next to you and wrapping his arm around your shaking form. Shaking from the cold, and crying. He holds you a moment, letting you lean on his shoulder as you cry, before he says anything. 

“Y/n,” he starts, but you don’t respond. You don’t even look at him. “You should go talk to Chris.”

You inhale shakily as you sit up. “I thought he was different,” you sob. “I thought he’d be different than everyone else. Everyone just treats me like shit. Use me. Lead me on. Play me. Throw me away. Forget about me. He’s the same as all of them. I always thought  he’d be different. Even when he was just a stupid celebrity crush. But I was wrong. I’m always wrong. He used me, played me. Worse than anyone. It’s all I’ve ever gotten. Maybe it’s what I deserve. I’ve never been good enough”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Y/n,” Ethan exclaims. “You are worth everything. You’re an amazing friend, an amazing person. You’re unbelievably smart -- you’re an attending surgeon for god’s sake. You did that on your own.  You’re strong and you don’t let anything challenge you.”

“That’s because i got over everyone treating me like shit.” You laugh at your own stupidity, wiping at your tears. “I avoided talking to anyone if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. But then Chris waltzes into my life, convinced me he’s the love of my life, and then rips my heart out.”

“Chris is the love of your life, stupid,” Ethan laughs. “His love for you -- God, I’ve never seen anything like it. That man loves you more than anything. He’s scared of losing you, Y/n, and, take it from another guy, we get scared and we say shit we would never mean. He’s broken. He broke himself when he said that, and in all honesty, he seems more broken then you. You need each other.”

You sit, listening to your best friend go on about this. And as much as you hate to admit it, Ethan’s right. “Fine,” you sigh.

Ethan orders you an Uber back to the hotel and waits with you in comfortable silence until it arrives. When it does, he stops you before opening the door, and pulls your ring out of his pocket, placing it gingerly in your hand. He opens the door for you, tells the drive to turn on the heat, and waves you off. You get the impression that the drive see’s you’re not in the mood for casual conversation.

When you get up to your hotel room, you quietly open the door. Chris is laying on the bed, crying against the pillow you slept against last night. He’s still wearing his button up and slacks.

“Chris,” you call, barely above a whisper, but still loud enough so he can hear you.

Chris doesn’t respond, thinking his mind is playing tricks on him. 

You put your wet clutch down on the table and crawl onto the bed next to him, wrapping your arms around his shaking body. You had never seen him like this before, and you absolutely hate it. As you hold him, you begin to cry again with hi, silently but your body still trembles. 

“Chris,” you sob out against his shoulder.

He sits up, leaving your arms but then pulling you into his. Your smeared makeup stains his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He only cares that he has you. As he holds you, he says he’s sorry, over and over again. You cry into his chest, gripping onto his shirt. Chris holds your head in his sizable hand, holding you to him as he cries, kissing your hair.

You stay like that, with him repeatedly saying he’s sorry. After a few moments in each other’s arms, where you’re meant to be, you both calm down. Chris moves, cradling your cheeks gently in his hands, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

“Y/n,” he says, still breathing shakily as the aftershocks of your bodies persist to wrack through you. “I’m so, so sorry. I never meant any of that. You’re the love of my life, and you are perfect in every way shape and form. Any guy would be the luckiest to call you theirs like I get to. I was just scared -- terrified of losing you. Especially to someone you know so well. Someone who has been there for you practically your whole life. I felt like I can’t compete.

You look up at him, tears prickling your eyes again. “You used my biggest insecurity against me,” you tell him, sobs convulsing you once more.

He grabs your waist, pulling you into his lap and stoking your hair. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to ever suggest anything like that. You’re more than good enough. If anything, you’re too good for anyone. I sure as hell don’t deserve you. You deserve the pure world, and I would give it to you in a heartbeat if I could, but this corrupt piece of shit planet we live on doesn’t deserve you. You’re just too good.” With his words, his constant reassurance, you begin to calm down again. “Everyone from your past is stupid. High school and college kids are all drama, sex crazed maniacs. Some people -- you -- don’t deserve to be around such bullshit for so long. That’s life, and there’s no easy way to avoid it. You’re so strong and you prevailed through all you’ve been through. All those assholes were naive. If they had actually taken the time to get to know you, like I do, and if they would get over their stupid everlasting pubescent hormones, like I did, they’d all be begging for you, like I do, and they’d love you more than anything. Like I do. Those five minutes after the bathroom before I found you, when I did find you, everyone’s eyes were on you. You;re beautiful, and when you’re confident like you’ve become it just radiates more. It’s more noticeable. You’ve become so confident since college, you’re still the same adorable geek, but you own it, you don’t shy away from it anymore. You’re proud to be you, and not many people can say that.” He kisses the top of your head as he finishes his spiel.

You look up at him, caressing his cheek gently as you look at him with all the love in the world. “I don’t deserve you, Chris,” you smile pathetically.

“No,” he says seriously. “Nuh-uh. Nope. Don’t start that bullshit. You’re a puppy.” 

You laugh, looking at him confused. 

“Puppies deserve anything they want, but they’re too precious and must be protected at all costs. So are you. Therefore, you are a puppy.”

“How much time have you been spending on twitter?” you laugh at him, feeling overwhelmed with love.

He nudges your shoulder, and you purposely over react and fall over dramatically as he gets off the bed. He takes you into the bathroom and you both get cleaned up from the eventful night that felt like a whole week. You shower together, but neither of you let things get steamy, as you’ve both agreed that sex is not the appropriate way to make up a mistake or argument. He holds you while in the shower, your back pressed to his chest, and he just admires you lovingly as he washes your back. You get in the bed together after putting some random late-night reruns on the TV, and you lay in his arms. 

“My beautiful wife-to-be, you fit so perfectly into my arms,” Chris says, kissing your shoulder. “You were made for me, and I can’t wait to marry you. It’s already the best day of my life, and it hasn’t happened yet.”

You giggle at his lovey-ness, and settle comfortable into your fiance’s arms, falling asleep with ease in your favorite place. 

------

A/n ok now i feel hella fucking lonely, don’t know if you could tell, but i used things my therapist tells me, all while helping my friend deal with his friends. this took forever, and i don’t know how it ended up here, but i love it and my heart is just tangled in different emotions. like damn i need a man like chris/seb but that’s never gonna happen because im not good enough :’)

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #marvel #marvel imagine

[tenmillionwhumperflies]

Cloudwalker Series Part 18

You know the meme where the cat is surrounded by knives with a smug look on their face? Can’t help but wonder if that’s how I’m gonna end up by the end of this. Starts off with really cute fluff and then plummets down into angsty whumpy fun times.

Warnings: Contains injuries such as claw marks and bites, blood, characters having panic attacks, big scars from amputations, and a bit of nudity.

Master-list Here

Approx WC: 3400 (I pondered splitting this one in half but I decided nah)

The time was passing by faster than Blue wanted it to, but he was also enjoying himself. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a cloudwalker again. He liked being able to play and roll around with Ihuka, to spend time with Dyan relaxing and enjoy each other's company in the early mornings while Ihuka was still asleep. Blue liked talking to him, he liked how he listened and didn’t interrupt and just... always managed to say the right thing. He wished he didn’t have to go.

Since lifting him and Dyan up in the air, Avizon had been confined to his bed while Orrien had looked after him and treated his fever. Blue felt guilty about it, he should have known that Avizon would be drained. Orrien had swatted those concerns of his away, insisting it wasn’t his fault. Avizon had offered to do it, and had done it. 

It seemed like a mild enough illness, or at least, Orrien had told them not to worry. He was asleep most of the time, just getting it out of his system by resting. It had meant the birds had been free to do whatever they wanted, and that had been to stay with Blue.

Blue had struggled to get the image of Avizon out of his mind. He’d looked so sick and pale and his eyes were dark and dull. Blue had brought him soup a few times and Avizon had looked awful. His breathing had been raspy, but he’d managed to force himself up, to mumble a thanks and eat maybe a quarter of the bowl. but he was healing more and more. Avizon scared him more than he wanted to admit. He’d really hurt Ihuka, and he couldn’t help but fear making a wrong move, even if Orrien reassured him that Avizon had changed and certainly wouldn’t hurt him.

But around Dyan, he felt safe… he didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like Dyan could protect him. Perhaps it was because they’d had similar experiences- whatever it was, it was good. He was glad he had friends like Dyan and Ihuka now. The days weren’t so lonely and long...

The night before, the three of them had climbed onto the roof to stargaze. It was an activity Blue did more than he liked to admit, dreaming about the days when he’s been able to fly up there to try to meet them. He’d wanted to share it with them. Dyan had really loved it up there, and the three had eaten liquorice together. Blue had given Ihuka and Dyan some fruit too. Ihuka had been very confused by the taste and the texture, but after a few confused bites, he’d grown to enjoy it. Nectarines were Blue’s favourite fruit that Orrien was able to get for him. Dyan wasn’t quite so horrified by the idea of eating the fruit, but he’d been awkward with eating it, trying to catch all the juice that dripped down his arms.

Blue smiled to himself as he lay in bed between the two of them as the sun peeked through the window. They’d all stayed up late, and Dyan had ended up falling asleep against Blue’s shoulder on the roof, holding his hand as a reassurance. He’d been afraid of getting caught or falling off. But Blue had managed to comfort him. 

They had indeed been caught, not that they were in trouble. Dyan had stayed asleep, a good sign as to how relaxed he had become. Orrien had managed to carefully carry him downstairs and back to bed. Blue and Ihuka had snuggled up to him and they’d fallen asleep.

But now he was a little late for caring for the horses, so he couldn’t savour the peace. He crept out of bed, though unsuccessfully. Dyan woke up, opening one eye. “Huh… when did I...”

“Orrien carried you down, you fell asleep,” Blue explained, shoving on his big boots. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, “You wanna come?” Dyan nodded quickly and made his way out of the mess of blankets and wings. He’d only just gotten out of the bed when the door opened to reveal Orrien.

“I have a spot of news. Avizon’s fever has broken. He intends to go home tomorrow.” Blue’s face fell. “Alright...”

Orrien ruffled his hair and smiled softly. “Don’t be glum, lad. So today, I want you to all go and have fun. Chores are cancelled today.” What? No, he couldn’t let Orrien do everything on his own, he was old. “But-” “I can manage, Blue, and besides, I want Avizon to prove he’s as healed as he says he is. It’s his turn.”

Blue sighed and let his head drop for a moment, “If you’re sure, thank you… I was wondering if we could go to the lake today?” “Hmm, it’s a little further out than I’d like you to be, but I can go with you and forage.” Blue nodded, “Thank you. I would like that.”

Orrien nodded. “Well then, it seems you’d best try to wake Ihuka up.”

Orrien left and Blue and Dyan looked at each other. Dyan grinned shyly and picked up a pillow, before hitting Ihuka on his buttocks. Hard enough to feel it, but not enough to startle him and scare him. Ihuka grumbled and reached for it, throwing it back at Dyan. It managed to hit him in the face with a soft oof, so Dyan hit him again, a little harder and in the back.

“Wake up, wake up! We can go and play in the lake today!” Dyan cheeped, hitting him again and again with the soft pillow until he finally turned onto his back, taking care not to pluck out any feathers. Dyan tossed the pillow onto him, leaving it to just lie on his face. “How can you be so awake?...” Ihuka groaned. He yawned and sat up.

The three of them got ready quickly, and they heard Orrien and Avizon outside.

“Are you trying to rip my stitches?” “You’re going to manage that without my help, m’boy,” Orrien said. “My point is you’re not healed enough. What are you so determined to get back for?” "There are things that need guarding in the castle and I don't want some maniac getting their hands on them. Besides, I feel a lot safer in a castle than a little farm."

“Didn’t I teach you feel safe within yourself and abilities, not a place?” “Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean a castle isn’t more fortified than a farmhouse.” Orrien studied him for a moment. “You’re dependent on it… You haven’t left for so long… even as the most powerful man.”

Avizon sighed and shook his head, but then he looked up at the window and spotted the three of them. Blue and Dyan tried to hide, but Ihuka stayed standing, unaware the others had moved. Avizon shook his head and smiled.

They made their way downstairs once they were all ready and once Orrien was ready, they set off. Avizon was happier staying at the house, finishing tending to the animals and then he could sit and rest for the rest of the day.

Blue kept close to Orrien as they walked, keeping his head constantly moving, looking for danger, for the threat of men. “You’re alright, Blue,” Orrien said softly. “You’re safe and you’re going to have a fun day, remember? You can spend a few hours by the lake and play.”

Blue nodded slowly and took a deep breath to calm himself. “Yes… i.it’s going to be fun,” Blue said softly. “I’m safe… I’m safe.” Dyan inched closer to him and offered him a hand to hold. Blue took it with a shy smile. Orrien raised an eyebrow before shrugging and smiling. “Good lad. Here we are anyway.”

They made it to the lake and Orrien set down a basket full of fruit and meats and then a towel for them to share. “Remember, Blue,” Orrien said gently. “If anything happens, which I doubt, but if. Pretend to be a human. It’s awful, but pretend that you own them, that you’re minding them for me. It will keep you safe.”

Blue nodded silently.

Orrien smiled, ruffled his hair, and left them to play. Ihuka went straight into the water and splashed around, putting his head half under and blowing bubbles, and spending the time to wash his feathers. Dyan was hesitant.

“What’s wrong?” Blue asked him gently “T.the water… I’ve… I’ve never...” Blue’s face fell. “You’ve never been in real water- like outside water?” Dyan lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve never even seen something like this before... I didn’t think it’d be scary, but...”

Blue took off his boots and then reached for his shirt but paused. He didn’t want all his clothes to get soaked, but he was also self-conscious. He felt the joints twitching in his back, joints that had once served the purpose of carrying his wings. His scars from where he’d had his wings removed weren’t clean cuts, and they’d healed badly. He hadn’t planned on really going in the water, but if Dyan had never even gotten to see something like this, well, he had to help him. He’d lived and lost, but Dyan had never gotten to experience it. He took off his shirt and took a deep breath. Dyan understood scars, he wasn’t afraid to show him. He took his pants off but left his undergarments on.

Blue held out his hand. “Trust me.”

Dyan bit his lip but nodded. Blue waited until he’d taken off most of his clothes and then Dyan took his hand. They waded forward together, but Dyan paused before his feet touched the water. “Just one little step,” Blue said softly.

Dyan closed his eyes tight and jumped, making Blue’s legs cold and wet. “Well, that wasn’t little, but you did it!” Blue cheeped. “It’s cold!“ he shrieked with a giggle.

He watched as Dyan stood fascinated for a moment, before he started to move around, to kick his legs out. He let out a happy trill noise and waded deeper, up to his hips. He splashed and giggled and Blue joined him, letting himself be silly for a little while.

Ihuka showed Dyan how to bathe his wings in the water, and Dyan seemed to really enjoy it.  They played and had contests to see who could throw the pebbles the furthest, and Blue went for a swim, but Dyan and Ihuka were too afraid to follow with the weight of their wings.

Blue guessed over an hour had passed, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it had been longer. He was getting cold, so he put his shirt back on and his boots after struggling to get all the sand and gravel off his feet. They all sat by the lake and ate, snuggling together under blankets to warm up.

Life was good, and it was better by Dyan, but then Blue paused, hearing something. Ihuka froze too. Blue heard it again, the soft whoosh. That was someone flying, and true enough, when he looked up, he saw a white winged cloudwalker.

And they were flying right towards him, with their teeth bared and claws ready. 

Ihuka shrieked out a warning and Blue tried to get up to run, to move, but the cloudwalker was fast. They tumbled backwards with the massive weight slamming into him. Blue cried out, feeling claws dig into his shoulder and skin tear. Instincts made him fight, to try to claw and bite like he used to but he had no nails, and he had no fangs. He was-

“Human!” the cloudwalker hissed. It snapped at his throat and Blue barely managed to push him to the side, saving his throat, but he bit his shoulder. Blue screamed but he didn’t get the time to do anything else. Ihuka dived at the cloudwalker, but he clawed at Ihuka’s chest, knocking him back as he did so just long enough to drag Blue into the air. Blue let out a mercy squeak.

Dyan screeched and leapt up, flapping his wings hard, just getting high enough to grab Blue’s leg, to be able to reach the other cloudwalker and actually started to fight him in midair. Biting, scratching, snarling, the noise was awful and brought the panic to spike in Blue’s chest, but Dyan’s midair fight forced the cloudwalker to let go of Blue.

Blue clamped his eyes shut, bracing for hitting the hard stone ground, but he was met by air. He dared to open his eyes and saw Orrien at the treeline, his hand outstretched. He looked over to see Dyan had also been caught from falling, covered in blood and whimpering. The cloudwalker screeched at the two of them. “Stupids!” He shouted. “He’s human! You’re prisoners! Fight! Flee!”

“He’s one of us!” Ihuka roared. “Leave him alone!”

The cloudwalker landed on the ground, fluffing up his feathers with his teeth bared, oh so ready to fight. Ihuka did the same and Dyan dragged himself up despite the pain he was in and followed suit, and he was a lot bigger. They were both in between Blue and the new cloudwalker, snapping and snarling, hurling threats back and forth. But Blue didn’t care. He had to go. He knew there was a little cave close by, just on the side of the cliff behind them. He couldn’t stay here.

As soon as Orrien put him on the ground he sprinted off, doing the only thing he was good for now, and that was hiding, letting others fight his battles for him because he was powerless. Human. Blood streamed down his body from his wounds. He heard the squawking and squealing of a small fight but then he heard flapping again and squeaked, “let me go! They took my wings, please! They took my wings!”

“You speak?!” But Blue didn’t answer, he kept running, rushing into the little nook, not caring how he hit his body on the rocks and left bruises. He wedged himself in the little gap and struggled to not sob. He hoped this was enough to keep him safe. He didn’t want to fight, he didn’t want to bleed and hurt any more. Not anymore. He’d suffered enough for a lifetime.

The cloudwalker stopped right beside the opening of the cave and Blue whined. He kicked off one of his boots and threw it at the cloudwalker who growled. He stared at his foot for a little while. “I couldn’t stop them,” Blue whispered, “The other humans… they took everything… Please just go, leave me alone. I’m sorry- f.for whatever I’ve done I’m sorry!”

“You should be dead, ghost. How are you alive?”

Blue curled up, but after a few short moments, the others came running up to him, finally catching up. The cloudwalker hissed at them and flew up into the air and disappeared from sight. Blue could only shudder and take in just how many scratches he had as well as the bites. He knew cloudwalkers in this area had venom which could paralyse their prey. He was lucky the venom didn’t seem to be working very well, but he still felt awful from it, sluggish, and tired, but he could move.

The others were here now. Blue whimpered, but he wouldn’t move. He was scared, it was just more proof that he wasn’t a cloudwalker anymore, that neither side wanted him. He cried into his knees and curled up tight.

“Blue?” Orrien called gently. “It’s safe, lad. He’s gone. Are you hurt?”

Blue couldn’t calm down, couldn’t stop crying. Orrien tried to inch his way forward, but Blue whimpered and that was Orrien’s queue to stop. “Blue? Oh, lad, shhhhhh. It’s okay. You’re safe now… You’re bleeding, can I come and see them?”

“I just want to be happy,” Blue cried. “Why can’t I be happy?! What did I do wrong? W.what did...” his sobs got too strong and he couldn’t find his words. He choked on his tears. He hit the ground beneath him, screaming, groaning, crying uncontrollably.

“It’s not like that Blue… Come on, lad, please let me get to you. Let me take away the pain.”

But he just couldn’t stop crying. He shook his head and looked up in the sky. Blue had heard scary stories before about ghosts and monsters, stories where characters had known the things were out there. He knew how they felt, and he was terrified of that cloudwalker coming back, just like one of those monsters.

Dyan inched closer on all fours, carrying a deep cut on his shoulder and dozens of other injuries, but he didn’t seem to care. “Blue… do you trust me?” he asked quietly. “It’s not you that I don’t trust. I.It’s out there… No one wants me, everyone just wants to hurt me.”

“I don’t, Ihuka doesn’t, Orrien doesn’t,” Dyan said. “We want to protect you. You’re not alone.”

Blue was reluctant to look up at him, his eyes were full of tears and his lip trembled.

Orrien decided to step back, to give Dyan a chance to speak to him. Blue didn’t want to leave that little space, he was safe, he was secure, he was away from the pain.

Dyan reached forward, only with his hand. It was a relief on his mind when Dyan spoke the human language. The thought stung. He was forgetting his own language... “Can you hold my hand?” Dyan asked.

Blue swallowed hard but managed to do that. His hand was shaking so badly. He sat like that for a few moments, holding onto Dyan’s hand like it was a lifeline. “Will you trust me? We will all keep you safe and I promise that they’ve gone,” Dyan said.

Blue was hesitant, but when Dyan took a step back, Blue couldn’t let go of his hand. He didn’t want to, so he had to move a little further forward. He stared up at the sky, waiting for something to jump on him, but nothing did. The skies were bright and sunny just as they were before.

“Trust me,” Dyan whispered, taking another step back. Blue had the choice to let go, he could have shied away and hidden back inside, but Dyan’s expression was so calm and reassuring. It shouldn’t have been. He held on tight to Dyan’s hand, it was an anchor point and he didn’t want to let it go. Guilt chewed at him, knowing that Dyan was hurt, he was bleeding, he’d been attacked and here he was trying to help him out of his little cave of safety. He wasn’t getting the help because he was so determined to help him.

Another step, then Blue stopped, he was right at the edge of the mouth. Any further and he’d be in the open. Ihuka put his wing over the cave, like an extended roof. Orrien gave him gentle praise. A deep breath, and after a gentle squeeze from Dyan, he was finally out.

He was out, but now he was shaking, and he’d frozen up, still clinging to Dyan’s hand. Dyan came closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around him. Dyan used his wings to shield him from view. Blue let out a weak sob and fell to his knees.

“Stay here, I’ll be back in the blink of an eye,” Orrien said.

He wasn’t exaggerating. He put a hand on Ihuka’s shoulder and teleported away. Blue whimpered, but no sooner had he finished the noise, Orrien was back.

“Now you two, let’s get you home.” He held out a hand, and Blue took it with a gulp while he held onto Dyan.

When he opened his eyes again, he was back at the house, back in his room. He sobbed. He’d ended today so badly. He’d been so happy and now he was a trembling mess.

Orrien hushed him gently and eased both Dyan and Blue into sitting on the bed. Orrien managed to cup Blue’s cheek without him shying away.

“It’s alright, lad. That was a hard thing you had to go through… I’m going to heal your wounds, some of these are too deep to leave. You too Dyan, that was a nasty little scrap you got into.”

Dyan nodded silently, still holding Blue’s hand. Blue couldn’t help but lean against him. He was getting tired, everything was slowing down, fading off into nothing. Maybe it was the venom, maybe his feelings were just too strong, or it was blood loss, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. He had Dyan next to him, that’s all he needed for now.

“Blue? Eyes open, lad. Blue- Blue!”

But Blue was already asleep.

Sorry not sorry I had to hurt the boi.

#Cloudwalker series #whump #attacked #Blue you're a precious bab and I'm sorry but you're just so whumpable #Blue #Dyan #Ihuka #Orrien #Avizon #mystery cloudwalker muahahahaha #tw:blood #And look at Dyan being all protective and managing to draw him out #I ship those two so much I can't help it I made this ship and I will die on it

[aquagirl1978]

Today @violettduchess gave me the most wonderful gift - she wrote me Sevastian fic (with a bit of Geralt tossed in there for good humor). I was in tears - it was so sweet and funny and just a really great story. I loved it so much she gave me permission to share this here. 

EDIT - I loved it so much I made this quick doodle to go along with this special story (scroll to the end of the story to see the image)

Inside the snow-kissed cabin, Sevastian leaned back, savoring the feel of the soft linen bedsheets against his skin. He was nude, of course, and he wore his nudity the same way he wore the silken garments of the Prince Consort: easily, effortlessly.

Outside the snow lazily made its way down, circling this way and that, dusting the tree branches and foliage with frosty kisses before eventually finding a final resting place to settle, adding to the blanket of white that was steadily growing thicker.

His pale eyes were trained on his wife as she knelt by the stove, poking at the fire. He admired the way her loose mane of auburn hair drank in the light, as if it too wanted to be as close to her as possible. With a practiced hand, she shoved the iron poker into the softly glowing pieces of wood, the remnants of the logs he had carried in earlier that evening.

“You’re staring“, she said, without turning around, unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

“Can you blame me?“, he answered, his lips tilting up in a grin. “Not many in the Kingdom are treated to a glimpse of their Queen like this.“

She leaned back, satisfied with her work before closing the oven door and setting the poker back into its iron-wrought holder. Turning, he was met with the familiar smile he cherished above all other things.

“Their Queen stoking a fire?“ She made her way back toward the bed, matching the grin on his face with one of her own. She perched on its edge, her gaze warming him more than the glowing embers as it ran over the length of him.

“Their Queen”, he said as he pushed himself up on one elbow, reaching out to touch the soft ends of her hair, “disheveled”, his hand skimmed its way up her arm to her shoulder, “and love-bruised from her husband’s adorations.” His fingers, cool and gentle, traced over the love-bites above her collarbone. She laughed, his favorite sound, catching his hand in hers and lifted it to her lips, pressing a kiss to his fingers as they curled around hers.

“You have been a most attentive subject”, she said, her voice laced through with affection. “This respite from royal duty was certainly one of your better ideas.”

He smiled, soft and certain as he reached for her, tugging her toward him as he fell back. “Then come here and continue to thank me for my cleverness”. His hands were already pushing the soft, sage green dressing gown off of her shoulders as she braced herself above him, her red hair falling over them, curtaining their faces as she kissed him. He was struck by the feeling of

how familiar her kiss was and yet how a kiss from her always felt like the gateway to something new, how it never failed to breathe life to the spark inside him that burned only for her.

“My Queen is stoking something else”, he breathed, his whole body alight as she pressed kisses to the pale skin of his neck, his own hands moving over her as if they had a life of their own, desperately trying to touch her anywhere and everywhere at once.

He nearly had her out of that blasted, heavy robe when a loud knocking cut through the sounds of their whispered sighs. Their eyes met. Only a select few knew they were here and they had been told only to disturb them if things were truly dire.

She pushed away from him, off the bed and the cold in her wake felt like it was seeping into his very bones. With a soft curse on his lips, he swung his long legs over the side and made quick work of pulling on his leather pants and white tunic. His wife was belting her robe tightly about her waist. She started for the door but he moved faster, stepping in front of her.

“Allow me”, he said softly. Her eyes dropped to his hand where he was already grasping the hilt of one of his silver daggers. Only the thin press of her lips together showed her annoyance at not being allowed to answer but she was a Queen, she belonged to the realm as well as him. However the loss of certain

freedoms still vexed her.

Sevastian opened the door and his silver eyes traveled up until they met gold. Specifically a tall, broad-shouldered man with eyes the color of the gilding on the throne. His white hair camouflaged the snow, but more of it had settled on his black cloak. The wind whipped around him as he took a moment to size the prince up. His gaze lingered a moment on the dagger held so casually in Sevastian’s hand.

“Good evening. I’m sorry to bother you but the lights from your cabin were visible through the trees. I was hoping you might have a place for a traveler where I could wait out the worst of this snowfall.” 

Sevastian kept his expression schooled as he looked over the stranger. He was a fighter, that much was clear. Even the dim light from inside the cabin, struggling to illuminate the stranger in the grey, snow-filled gloom, couldn’t hide the way he held himself, the square of his shoulders, the cautious way his golden eyes were taking in what he could see of the cabin’s interior,

assessing.

“Ah fuck”, the man muttered. “You’re here with your partner. I’m sorry. I’ll go and—”

“Nonsense”.

Sevastian fought back the cringe that threatened to break his cool expression as his wife walked over, pulling the door open wider and motioning for the man to come in. “It’s cold out there and you need shelter. We’re happy to accommodate you.”

The big man glanced at Sevastian who merely stepped aside, though his hand was still gripping his dagger, tension running through him like currents of water.

She was already pulling out a chair at their small dining table, setting down a wooden bowl and spoon.

There goes the remainder of their rabbit stew, he thought with irritation. The man had removed his cloak, revealing two swords strapped to his broad back. As if sensing Sevastian’s gaze, he reached back, removing them as well and leaned them against the wooden wall.

“Thank you”, he said, his voice deep and, admittedly pleasant to listen to. He wondered if the man would recognize the Queen or even himself, but his face remained unaware, relaxed even as she spooned some of the warm stew into the bowl.

“Thank you?”, he turned, looking from her to him, searching for ways to address them.

“Sev. And this is my wife. Bunny.” No need to give her real name. No one should know the ruler of the kingdom was esconded away in a secluded cabin in the wilds.

She shot him a Look, her eyes widening ever so slightly, enough for him, who knew her face as well as any astronomer knows the stars, to see her surprise. The corner of his mouth tilted ever so slightly up.

“I am”, the man spoke in-between hearty spoonfuls of stew, “Geralt. Of Rivia.” He paused. “I’m….uh….a bard.”

Her eyebrows shot up and he knew his own face matched hers. The name of the land was unfamiliar to them both. And no bard he knew travelled so well armed. Sevastian slowly moved away from the wall, setting his dagger down on the table where it could be seen. A silent reminder. A warning.

“I have not heard of Rivia.”

Geralt swallowed, the muscles of his neck looking to be as strong as the corded forearms that were resting on the table.

“I….do not doubt it. Let’s just put it this way. Don’t piss off a sorceress.”

His wife settled herself into the chair beside him, amused. Sevastian could see she was burning to ask the stranger more but the tone of his voice was a portcullis, clearly not welcoming any inquistions. He lowered himself into a chair next to hers.

Once his bowl was empty, the tension in Geralt’s body began to slowly unspool itself as he looked around the small cabin, his strange, golden eyes curious.

“You a woodsman?”

Sevastian bit back a snort just as his wife kicked him not so delicately under the table.

“Of sorts”, he managed, biting back a grin.

Geralt’s gaze landed on the dagger, still lying openly on the table. “That’s fine craftsmanship for a woodsman’s blade.”

His eyes met Sevastian’s again, gold on silver. Neither one completely trusted the other.

As always, she knew what to do. Clearing away his bowl, she gestured to the two massive swords leaning against the wall. “Your blades are equally impressive, sir…..for a bard.”

He grunted, looking back towards Sevastian. The Winter Prince was watching him closely, still seated. His posture looked relaxed, almost lazy, but underneath tension coiled through him, ready to move the minute he sensed danger. Geralt stood up slowly, stepping away from the

table. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

Sevastian stood slowly as he walked to the door, watched as Geralt slipped his swords back into their scabbards strapped on his back. His wife came over as well, holding something small, wrapped in a piece of linen.

“Some bread and dried meat for your journey. May you find your way home, Geralt of Rivia. “

Geralt took the bundle gratefully. “Thank you Bunny.” His tone was serious, sincere. Sevastian hid his grin behind his hand, biting down hard on his lower lip.

With one strong push, Geralt opened the cabin door. The snowfall had ceased and the world was enwrapped in soft white snow and darkness. The light of the full moon found its way through the trees, the snow glittering wherever it touched.

The stranger pulled his black hood over his own white hair, the snow clinging to his boots as he made his way through the trees, walking away until he was eventually swallowed by the darkness.

Heading back inside, Sevastian met her gaze.

“I sensed no danger, despite his blades.”

She nodded, thoughtful. “Neither did I. He truly seemed….lost.”

Sevastian glowered for a moment as he looked over at the empty pot. “He did however finish what was to be my next helping of dinner.”

She scoffed, pushing the chairs back into the table. “We can catch another rabbit in the morning and make more. Or maybe visit Rosie and dine there –“ She trailed off as her husband slowly made his way towards her, gleam in his eyes, his hands settling on her hips, enjoying their softness.

“Yes?”, she asked, unable to keep from smiling.

“If I cannot have rabbit stew”, he said, his voice low and teasing, full of promise, “then perhaps I shall dine on some other Bunny.”

Her laughter filled the cabin, warmer than any fire, as he swept her off her feet and carried her the short distance to the bed, playfully nipping at her neck with every step.

“Sevastian!”

#lovestruck #fanfiction #reigning passions #sevastian of the winter #fanart

[purelyfiction]

Title: The Return of A Royal

Summary: After discovering Mari's real identity and recognizing the truth behind the job, Din decides not to finish it. The two return to Nevarro to gather supplies and regroup on a plan. They arrive at nightfall, Mari still slightly drowsy from her medication. The following morning, they take their time getting ready to move on after supply gathering for their journey to Tatooine.

Word Count: 5,786 (yeah there’s a lot here :P )

TW: brief description of sexual assault, nudity, fun shower times ;) We have arrived to smut city, and ask that you make sure you have all of your belongings with you as you exit the bus. Please exit the bus in a orderly fashion and we thank you for riding with thxse-xdds (galaxybcund) tours.

Chapter 6 - Steam and Sunsets

There was something about e-bacta that really just... put everything back in place. Mari slowly sits up, rubbing her eyes slowly as she hears a coo from up the ladder. She slowly moves from the cot she's on, still rather shaky, a bit tired still. She rolls her wrist over to see her ancient communicator to look to the time. It's been about 7 hours since she fell asleep from the medication Mando had administered. A slight chill runs through her as she moves to climb up the ladder. She's about halfway up the ladder when she looks up to be greeted with a sheet of metal that was none too happy. To be fair, she can't see his expression and he never really looks happy. "What are you doing. You should be sleeping." He scolds, only to reach a hand out to her, helping her up the rest of the way. 

"I... woke up. I can't really sleep well.. normally, anyways." Her body seems to betray the words she speaks, as a prolonged yawn leaves her mouth. His hand slips from hers once she's standing upright, stepping aside to let her into the cockpit. Mari settles in one of the chairs, Din unmoving as he looks to her. He seems frozen as she looks to see Grogu in his seat, eyes trained on the ball in his hand. Mari looks to him slowly, moving at a snails pace it seems. Mando finally moves back to the captain's chair rather smoothly. 

"I can find something on Nevarro to help that. You'll need it to finish recovering." She's curled into a ball, leaning into the seat, seemingly half asleep still. 

"Mmmm whatever you think is best. Not gonna be the one to move your path." The former royal hums before he glances to her once again. 

"Aren't you cold?" He asks, Mari's eyebrows furrowing at him at the question. 

"I mean a little. Why do you ask?" She swears there's a snicker coming from the helm on his shoulders. Yet, he reaches up with gloved fingers, tugging the cloak from behind him and turning in his chair to drape the fabric over her. Mari takes it gingerly, pulling it closer to her, watching as her turns to face the dashboard once again. 

"You're not wearing any pants." 

Mari's eyes widen, a bright blush inevitably coming to her face. She must've kicked them off in her sleep. "Um, sorry. Habit?" She asks, more than giving a rational answer. A slight shrug comes from Din. 

"It's nothing I haven't already seen." He says it so cooly, as if there was nothing out of place about it. Despite it being the very real truth, Mari's blush seems to deepen. 

"Not fair. I'm not allowed to see you." Her head's clearly not in the best place, otherwise there would've been a much wittier response from the brunette. The male doesn't respond and she turns to look back to the stars moving passed them once again. Din recognizes the behavior, having seen it the day prior when they were traveling to the random planet to face her ex. He speaks up.

"What are you thinking about?" Mari nearly jumps when she hears his voice, even though it hasn't even been five minutes since they'd stopped speaking. 

"Er, I'm... not?" She puts a hand to her forehead briefly before looking at him, despite his helmet staying straight to the course ahead of him. "I- well it's not really my thoughts. I.. just am reading the energy around me." She suggests, not really sure how to explain it more than that. 

"Reading energy?" He sounds genuinely curious, so Mari moves to continue. 

"I- my father wasn't lying about the powers. I... just never trained them. He had convinced my mom that I was a weapon, and I would hurt the people around me or even myself. So, they limited how much I learned about it. They mainly told me that I should try to block it out as much as I could. That never really worked, as I always just felt things, heard brief things. Like snippets of ideas. As though I had a window into people's thoughts. They were never more than one or two words. I... It's how I knew Grogu's name." She admits, the small child's head popping up at his name. She gives him a small smile accompanied by a wave. This information causes Din to turn to her. 

"You can communicate with him?" He asks, rather surprised. She gives a small huff, amused at his reaction. 

"I didn't say that. I hear bits of his thoughts every now and then. One of the first things that came up at the cantina was 'Grogu, eat." She offers, the kid cooing at his name and food in the same sentence. "So, yes, and also no. If he's willing to share it, I might get it." Mari knows very little about the Force, or anything she might possibly be able to do, but knew this one well. "But, for example, I can't get anything from you. You're sealed rather tightly it seems." It might be a jab, or a taunt, either way, Din doesn't let it faze him very much. He gives a nod at her explanation, turning in his chair again. 

"I noticed you were doing it yesterday." He offers, Mari giggling at the memory. 

"He was babbling to himself. It was actual nonsense, nothing coherent." She smiles, looking at the child in question who looks to her. She looks at him, only to watch him offer the piece of metal in his hand. Take. She gives a nod, slowly starting to get up when Grogu makes a displeased noise. The two adults look to him, only for the Mandalorian to look at Mari. 

"Anything?" He asks, only for Mari to turn her head. 

"Take. He lifted the ball, and said 'take.' When I went to get up, he got upset." She explains, the other turning back to his task, seemingly not interested in what the two of them were up to. A thud comes from over his way, Mari seeing the ball roll on the floor. She sighs, moving to pick it up, but before she can, it's pulled back to green, tiny hands. Again. Take. She moves so her feet are now tucked under her, the cloak she was using now settled in her lap, hands resting on her knee caps. "Take." She whispers, looking to the ball in his hand. Her focus is not very strong, considering the room was moving a little still from the medication, but she does her best to put her energy to it. She's not sure when it happens, but in a blink, the very piece that had been in his hand, was now in hers. A content coo leaves Grogu, Mari a little shocked at what had occured. "Holy kriff." She mumbles, looking to the metal in her hand, only to tap the back of her hand to Mando's arm. "This some kid's toy with gears or something?" She asks, only for Din to move slowly and look at the piece and answering her. 

"No. It's the knob to that lever." He points out to the pipe in the dashboard with exposed threads. "He just... was attracted to it since I brought him on the ship." He speaks, taking it from her before handing it back to Grogu. 

"Just metal." She speaks. 

"Yes." 

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It wasn't long before the three of them landed on their destination planet. They'd just been there a day prior, but with the realization that he was low on supplies, Din needed to restock before they could continue tracking down someone's whereabouts when they had no real clue where they were. So, as the sun sets on Nevarro they move to the familiar cantina that Mari had gotten a little overserved at. "I need to speak with someone about potential leads, or work I could do for credits to refuel on our next detour." He explains, leading the way. They walk at the Mandalorian's pace, halting at the booth. She'd felt off the minute they'd entered the building, she couldn't explain it. But, when her eyes fall to her companion's intel, her body tightens. 

"Mando, I'm.. gonna go to the refresher..." She speaks, the voice so low that Din doesn't acknowledge her. Karga stands at the sight of the woman, a smirk on his face. Her stomach seems to do a somersault when he does so. 

"Mando. I see you've brought company. Pleasure to see you again." He speaks in her direction, and her throat is as dry as the air outside. The man beside her looks to her. 

"You've met Karga?"" He asks, and the older man chuckles. 

"Oh yes. I had the pleasure to welcome her to the Guild." At his words, Mari's jaw clenches. 

"We both know that wasn't a welcome, Karga." Her teeth are tense, her fingers slowly closing into fists. Din hears the kid whimper, giving a sigh and looking to the two of them. 

"I've got to deal with this... I'll be fast." His words are for Mari, it's clear, yet Greef gives a nod to his cohort. Once the Mandalorian runs off to find whatever it is that Grogu is nodding off about, the dark male slowly approaches her. 

"I did you a favor when you landed here." He speaks, as though she owes him something. 

"Really?  I don't think that was a favor. I've had plenty of nightmares because of you."  She can remember the night far too vividly. Fresh off an Imperial ship and looking for work and shelter, only 19. She'd finished the job Karga had given her, and he offered her a room at his house. The rest of the night was something she tries desperately to forget. Karga is suddenly in her space, trying to be intimidating.

"If it weren't for me, I really doubt you would have made it to where you are now." He tries only for Mari to take two rather large steps back. 

"I don't agree with you. And unluckily for you I'm not a hopeless kid you can pin down in the middle of the night." She spits before one of her fisted hands comes to meet with his chin, the older of the two falling back and losing his balance before falling on his ass. Mari shakes out her hand, only to raise it when guards come to try to push her out of the building. "I was just leaving." 

Din's been gone maybe five minutes when he's returned with the kid, a small snack in his hands as he rests happily in his caretakers arms. Only to find his previous Guild agent with a cold compress to his cheek. "Where's the girl?" Karga gives a huff, shaking his head. 

"You mean the schutta who pulled this off?" He asks, before a grunt leaves him. "She ran off, the ungrateful shit." 

The man takes a step to his elder, a finger pointed. "She's the bounty. She's just as wanted by Gideon as the kid is." He's surprised though, as it's clear that Mari had hit him pretty hard. She had to have some reason. 

"Some princess she is. You watch your back, Mando. I don't trust her." Din pauses, looking to the familiar face before turning to the door of the cantina. He wouldn't lie, he'd partially forgotten her status, but... it seemed as though she had as well. Unimportant. He thinks to himself, looking around the market aisles to try to find the woman. Instead, he tries to find her footprint. After her attempted getaway the prior afternoon, he'd made sure to register her shoeprint in his systems. He'd done so prior to learning what he knew now about the job. And he's glad he has as he begins to follow the path she'd made away from the cantina, even further from the Razor Crest. He watches as they weave through the stands that stand empty, waiting for the next days business. He's still walking when he hears his name, turning to see Cara at her door. 

"What are you two doing back here? Didn't Elia give you the intel you needed?" She asks, leaning into the doorway, Mando turning to face her. 

"It's... Mari. She's running from her father. It turns out he'd exploited her to the Empire once before when he was in debt. She.. knew of a Jedi, it's Ahsoka. Which, we've already spoken with." He explains short handedly, Cara not really getting the full detail but nodding anyways. 

"Ok... what are you doing now then? Still looking?" 

"Yes. The kid still needs to train... and so does Mari." He offers, looking back to the path where her footprints begin to disappear to on the other edge of town behind a building. 

"Right... she's got the same powers as the kid does? Guess Gideon would want her too then..." She rationalizes, Din turning to face her again. 

"I suppose. For now she's with me." The brunette gives a snicker, gesturing to his empty side. 

"Sure looks like it. Run off again?" She teases, standing up right again. 

"I... She punched Karga. Left without a word." 

The Marshal is taken by surprise at her friend's words. "Right... he give you any explanation to that?"

"No. She better. Otherwise I doubt Karga will want anything to do with me again."

"Well, good luck. Let me know if you need anything." He gives a nod, about to turn before he looks back at her. "Actually..." 

Mari sits on the familiar rooftop, a haven she'd once had back when she briefly lived on the planet. It was maybe the only peaceful place she can recall from that period of her life. She'd sit like this, legs under her and watch the sun sink into mountains in the distance. She'd been on Nevarro a whole two weeks back then. Only before making her way to other planets, finding her freighter and starting back into bounty hunting after her... experience, with Karga. She'd found a female agent, one she trusted far more and had no problem after that. Mari sits, gaze far off when she feels the air around her seem to shift, and gives a small smirk. He'd found her. No surprise, he was one of the more esteemed bounty hunters in the Guild afterall. "Took you long enough." She retorts, the man unmoving. 

"You punched Karga? On what grounds?" He asks, slow to step forward, looking to the sunset she'd been watching. 

"He'd been my first agent. I was 19. I had just escaped from the Empire, landed on the nearest planet, looking for work and lodging. Karga was far too excited to help." She stands up, walking to his side, and then facing the sun again. "I did the job, he paid me, and led me to the accommodations for the night. Which happened to be at his personal residence. I was on the couch. It was the middle of the night, I was sore and exhausted from and unskilled criminal retrieval. I woke up to Karga's hands on my wrists, his knees pushing my hips into the cushions. He..." Mari has to take a deep breath, looking to her hands, still rubbing the sore knuckles from it's impact with Greef's jaw. "He tried to make me do some things I was unfamiliar with. He rubbed himself against me and -" 

Din's voice cuts through the air. "Stop. You don't need to keep going." His voice comes off low. She's heard it before, when he was upset with her for doing something. Though the energy isn't directed at her. She can feel it. She can feel Mando's emotion. 

That was new. It's a storm of anger, disgust, and an air of demerits to him. "I'll see that he apologizes." He mutters, a turn of his shoulders. "C'mon. We should get back to the ship." 

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The energy that lingers as Mari and Grogu sit in the hull with take out meals from a local diner is heavy. The Mandalorian was unpacking some of the supplies that Cara had been so kind to gather for him, but he had been so quiet. Mari pulls the bowl from her mouth, watching him carefully. "Do you want some help?" She asks, feeling like she needed to be doing something. 

"I'm fine. Finish eating so we can leave." He retorts, pushing a stack of bacta kits into the cabinet. Thank Maker. She's so glad to see that he'd learned from experience, now prepared if something were to happen again. A slurp comes from the small creature beside her, and the two adults turn to look at him, Mari letting a small laugh leave her. Her bowl now empty, she stands and takes Grogu's when he's done. Setting the dishes in the small kitchenette sink, she takes another glance to the Mandalorian. 

"You seem off." She finally admits, Din not pausing as he picks up the bag off the floor to look at what remained. No words. He pulls out a stack of clothes, outreaching a hand towards her. 

"You told me you had no clothes. Cara had things she didn't wear anymore. There's a drawer on the other wall that's empty." He directs, Mari slowly taking them from the other, looking over the pile. She'd mentioned it briefly, figuring that she would just deal until they made it back to Mon Cala to retrieve her ship. Though, she's beyond excited to put on something that didn't feel like a dress on her. Not that she was ungrateful for Mando's kindness. He'd offered her clothes when she needed it, but this rung a little differently. He'd actively sought out a solution for her. Remembering she'd had an issue, and cared enough to make sure that she was well prepared for the next few days.  

"I- Thank you. Remind me to thank her the next time we see her." Her voice is soft, moving to the drawer he'd mentioned. A few tank tops, some longer shirts, a few t-shirts and long sleeves. The pants options were... different. Mari was one for thicker style pants with plenty of storage on them, these were mainly black, skin tight and held few pockets. This would be a change. Temporary, but a change nonetheless. Din's moved from his spot, putting the storage bag away, starting to heat up what looked like a ration from his supplies. "... Do you want me to go get you real food? I'm sure I can find something-" 

"It's fine, Mari." Food's not really been... enjoyable for him. It was sustenance, it fueled him like sleep did. Did their meals smell delicious? Absolutely. But by the time he's able to eat, it would've gone bad. Rations didn't go bad, even if they were cold. So he deals. She shrinks slightly, picking up Grogu and moving him to his small hammock in the sleeping chambers. She turns to look at him before speaking. "What... are sleeping arrangements looking like?" The Mandalorian looks back to her only to realize that there was his standard cot, and the medical one that Mari had slept on last night. The medical one wasn't meant for use over 8 hours, and she'd really pushed it's limits earlier that day. "You can sleep with the Kid. I'll figure something out." He explains. A slow nod leaves her as she moves to the refresher. After getting ready for sleep, she stays put for a little while longer, knowing that Grogu was most likely asleep, and that the ship's captain could get in a few bites. She's made sure enough time has passed before she steps out of the room, combing her hair with her fingers when she sees the pile of blankets and a pillow on the sheet of metal that made up the floor. She's quick to move and collect the group of fabric, starting to the ladder to the cockpit. A groan sounds from behind her, almost echoing. "What are you doing." 

"Making a bed for me. You're not sleeping on the floor, and I'm not taking your bed." She retorts, managing to get to the cockpit. She maneuvers the guest seats so that they face one another, pausing before ducking her head to the hull. "You got more pillows?" She quips, Din looking around before picking up two more from under the cot that he didn't use. He hands one up to her, Mari taking it before getting an idea. She lets both hands grip the ends before hitting the man in the back of his head when it was turned. The helmet turns, and she's suddenly worried she's overstepped. "I.." She retreats to the cockpit, starting to build her bed a little more, hearing armor rattle as he climbs up the ladder. She sighs, biting her tongue before standing upright. "That was immature and I shouldn't have -" Instead of a scolding tone and words telling her to go to bed, plush force comes to her shoulder, causing her to look behind her, seeing a pillow gripped between gloved hands. The two are both frozen, only until Mando gives a shrug. Mari's quick to grab another pillow sending her pillow flying through the air and hitting against him softly. Sure he's armored, but he's indulging her, and she's not going to miss out on that. Eventually, Mari surrenders, a right fit of laughs leaving her before she carefully takes the pillow from him. A smile on her face as she makes a bed between the two chairs, enough that it'll support her. Din seems skeptical though, looking at it is just making his back hurt. 

"Are you going to fit on that?" He asks, Mari looking up to him and then the bed. 

"Yeah, watch." She carefully maneuvers to the makeshift bed, pulling blankets over her, finding herself sliding off the chair slightly, but being caught by the pillows. "See?" She gives a smile only for Din to nod and turn to the ladder. As he maneuvers, he catches another glimpse of her bed setup, and can't stop the laugh that comes from him. 

"Goodnight, Mari. Good luck to your back." He slinks down the ladder and to the sleeping cot, turning off the lights of the hull with ease. 

"My back will be fine. Goodnight you two." She laughs in return before curling into her bed with caution. 

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

Mando was right. Mando was very right. Not only had she tossed and turned the entire night, then falling from the chair setup, her back was a mess. She didn't want to move from her position on the floor, because she was getting some sleep finally, only for the door to the cockpit to slide open, a deep modulated voice coming from above her. "I tried to warn you." 

"I'll live." She groans, sitting up and pushing hair out of her face. 

"The kid's still asleep. I'm going to go grab food. I'll be half an hour at most." He explains, looking at the woman's rough shape. Her hair was everywhere, and to no one's surprise, her pants are on the far side of the cockpit. He shakes his head before turning.  "I turned on the hot water. Give it a few minutes before trying to shower." He recommends before slinking down the rungs of the ladder, feet shaking the metal slightly before the hatch to the hull opens, and shuts. A yawn leaves her, letting her stand and try to stretch out. She was so beyond sore, and doesn't stop herself from flipping off the setup before grabbing her pants and moving to the hull. She grabs clean clothes, and moves to the refresher, turning the handle of the shower, a hand flattening against the stream of water to test the temperature. Mari moves to the sink, starting to brush her teeth as she waits for the water to warm up a little. By the time she's done, there's steam fogging up the mirror, giving her a visual cue that the shower is ready. She lets her shirt and underwear fall to the floor, stepping into the shower.

The water feels heavenly against sore muscles, and generally felt good after having been in generally dry and dusty climates the past few days. It seems to massage her skin in such a way that she sits and stands in the stream, warm streams running down her tresses of brown hair, over her shoulders. It's almost lulling her to sleep, closing her eyes and letting a soft hum leave her as she seems to sway slightly with her music she was making. Mari felt like she hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep, meanwhile Grogu was still sleeping. It really wasn't fair. She and Mando had to get up, get going and he reaped the benefits. But he's rather helpless compared to her. She's a grown adult and had responsibilities. Well, she had before she ran across this duo. Now... she's on the run. Avoiding any bounty hunter or any stormtrooper that might be after her - all for her father's sake. Her idea of her father's passing had been hopeless thinking, an idea she created to reassure herself to just live her life. 

She jumps as the ship starts to vibrate, hearing the door of the hull open again. Had it seriously been 30 minutes already?  She's grabbing the nearest soap container, starting to wash up before a knock comes to the door. "I- I'll be out in like ten minutes." Mari's features scrunch as she speaks, Mando's voice coming from the other side of the door. 

"How long have you been in there?" She bites her lip softly. 

"Since you left. I... think I fell asleep if I'm honest." The woman admits, a groan coming from the other side of the metal. 

"Mari, there's maybe an hour of water in the tank, I still need to shower." Well shit. She's trying to move faster, only to drop the bottle in her hand and cursing. It's quiet while she tries to make up for her wasted time, only for another knock on the door. "Open the door."

"What?" Her surprise is clear, but Din doesn't shift. 

"Open. The door." She's hesitating, only to open the small door to the shower, and then unlocking the refresher door, closing the shower door again. The lights are killed and she's enveloped in darkness, no sight to guide her. 

"Mando, I can't shower like this."

"Close your eyes." Suddenly, Mari is wide awake. The last time she'd heard that had been two nights ago at the Inn. She doesn't argue and lets her eyes close again. "They closed?" She gives a hum to him, listening as each piece of armor is removed and gently stacked on the floor. The shower door opens and she's about to move, only for a hand to fall to her waist. He pulls her in the right direction to ensure there's enough space for the both of them, as well as adequate water flow. 

"I still-"

"I'll help. Just stay still, we've got to be quick." His voice sounds so... calm, like this. It's not different, in any other way other than a cleaner sound. There's less resonance in his annunciations, and a far more... human tone. Hands reach past her to the soap on the ledge behind her, another hand on her waist to turn so her back is facing him. The sound of the cap of the container echoes against the metal, only for it to return to it's home. Large hands run soapy fingers through her hair, making sure to get each spot, but also moving delicately as to not tug on any knots that might linger. Fingertips start to massage into her scalp and Mari can't help but relax a little. Eyes still closed, hands holding herself as he slowly lathers her hair with careful movements. He makes sure to get the ends of the tresses before turning her to face him again. "Rinse." He offers before grabbing the same soap and starting to wash his own hair. By the time she's gotten all the soap out, including the knots, Din's swapped places with her to quickly rinse himself. Once he's done, an arm wraps around her waist, guiding her back under the water just as she starts to get cold. She realizes that just as he does so, he must be freezing. Despite it, another soap container opens and shuts before he directs her to the same position she was earlier, back to him. Warm hands, chilled slightly with body wash begin to glide across her skin, sending goosebumps up her back and down her arms. What should have been quick and clumsy hands to ensure they don't waste more hot water, find themselves moving slowly, embracing the slick conditions as Din's hands explore. He traces his thumb pads up her spine, slight pressure being applied to clearly tense muscles. "I warned you." He snickers when a groan leaves her lips as he hits a sore spot. She's afraid to admit that wasn't the only reason the noise had made an appearance. The muscles in her stomach tighten with each motion, hands moving to rest against the wall. Hands massage into shoulders, mimicking the same action before they peak at the tops of her shoulders, shifting to her chest. A soft gasp leaves her, feeling her walls faintly tighten at his touch.   Breasts are enveloped in suds, slight kneading motions capture the tissue, thumbs grazing her nipples slightly. Mari brings her bottom lip between her teeth again as his hands move down her sternum, taking a moment to appreciate her stomach, before moving to the outside of her thighs. They run two slow circles over her skin, before sliding to her ass. He pauses, gripping the muscle before his hands rest on her hips again, stepping closer as he does so. Fingertips coast along her sides, forcing her to press her thighs together as a new form of touch is introduced. 

His lips begin to press against her shoulder as water rinses the soap from her skin, slowly making a trail. A hand moves up to pull her hair from behind her neck, lips greeting the skin there. His hand moves under her arm, letting his own arm pull her to hug him softly chest completely tucked into her, accompanied by the brand new sensation of his groin against her ass. His hand holds her shoulder as his other rests on her hip, lips now by her ear. "I can stop. You just need to tell me." His lips return under her ear, following her hairline before Mari finally finds words. The past few minutes she'd been encased in his touch, not really minding whatsoever. 

"No, no. I-... it feels good on the sore stuff." She whispers in response, Din humming. 

"We've got about 20 minutes before this shower is frozen over." The words are mumbled against her shoulder as he presses yet another kiss to her skin. "Just tell me." A reminder, that if she needed to, that they could stop. The Inn had been different, he'd asked if she wanted to stop everything. This felt more like reassurances. Little pockets of affirmation that she had a say in what happened. 

With his thumb at her shoulder, he's running fingers in patterns while his other hand moves to gently push her legs apart, fingers running along her inner thighs, making her shift carefully. Soon, two rough pads slide past her lips, gathering whatever was there to aide in helping his skin flow against hers. A soft gasp from Mari lingers in the air as his fingers slowly begin to encircle her clit. He moves in time with the patterns on her shoulder, while his lips haven't once left her back. The water running over them helped keep their bodies warm - as if Din's actions weren't enough. He's being careful, listening closely to find the pattern of her breathing under the drowning sound of the shower hitting the harsh metal. He begins with circles on her shoulders, transitioning into small figure eights that make Mari move to let fingers wrap around his wrist, slightly labored breaths matching the rise and fall of her chest. "You're doing so good, princess." 

Oh. Oh, Maker. A pleased gasp, accompanied by softly chanted 'yes' begin to roll off Mari's tongue, his pace starting to pick up quicker. The water's slowly shifting from it's pleasant heat to a mulling warmth, a sign that their time was starting to escape them. Mari finds herself leaning forward as each lap of Din's fingers helps the growing tightness in her abdomen, fingers gripping his wrist tighter and tighter the closer and closer she gets. By now, she's trying her best to hold out as long as she can, a rasped comment leaving her. "I-I need you. Please."

"Alright, hang tight." He retreats his hand from her clit, moving to help align his ready member to her slit, rocking slightly to coat himself before lining up. "Ready, princess?" He hums, an impatient groan leaving Mari. 

"Mando, please. " At her confirmation, he slowly presses himself into her, filling her with ease. Mari's hands move to the shower wall once again, now balling into firm fists as her head hangs. Din's own hand returns back to her clit as he slowly begins thrusting, matching his pace of his hips with his fingers. He sets out on a steady pace, Mari's breaths being annunciated with each thrust, Mando's own grunts pairing with them neatly. He begins to move faster, holding onto her with one arm, the other hand still circling her clit as he rocks. She can feel her legs shaking a little, try her best to get out words. "Close, close - I -" He meets her statement with a hum, moving his fingers faster until she tightens around her, his arm moving from under her shoulder to around her waist as Mari seems to vibrate. He makes sure his fingers are still moving as she cums, and when she's almost done, he pulls from her and finishes himself off. She's leaning into the shower, forearms pressed against the metal, forehead leaning on it as well and catching her breath as Din quickly washes his body with the remaining lukewarm water. When he's done, he presses another kiss to the back of her neck before retrieving towels.

"Such a selfless princess." He compliments, wrapping her in a towel before stepping out of the shower and drying off. 

"Yeah. That's the word." 

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfic #mando fanfic #mando smut #din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfic #smut

[brokenmimir]

The Curse of the Golden Hoard

White Rose Week 2020, Day 5: Curse

In Vale, success breeds misfortune as readily as failure.

(Sequel to The Ruby Eye of the Serpent King)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718948 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13615480/1/The-Curse-of-the-Golden-Hoard

Weiss rolled her eyes as Yang threw the door open, the solid oak banging against the interior wall loudly, drawing the attention of all of Beacon. Normally she would've been angry at the brute attracting the potential ire of as many dangerous people as routinely visited the small tavern, but in that moment she was too elated to care.

Still, appearances had to maintained, even if her heart wasn't in it. “Yang…”

“Sorry, ice queen,” Yang sang. “Guess I forgot my own strength. How 'bout I make it up to everyone with a round of drinks on me!”

“Yeah!” the room cheered, and Peter Port smiled behind his thick mustache as he began preparing drinks for the relaxing crowd, who were all discretely tucking away the weapons they had prepared against the forceful entry.

Yang strutted over to their usual table, throwing the heavy sack she'd been carrying down on it, making it clink suggestively for those with an ear for gold. Blake did the same, and then Ruby as well, until all three looked at her expectantly. Finally, with a long suffering sigh, Weiss heaved her own sack onto the table, privately enjoying the sound of their new fortune.

“We're going to be robbed the moment we step out of here,” Weiss complained as she sat down, an unrepentant Ruby hopping onto her lap with a grin. Weiss grunted a little at the weight, as for as petite as she looked, the barbarian girl was all densely packed muscle, built lean and wiry for maximum speed and agility.

“Like anyone can take us,” Yang snorted. “I don't know about anyone else, but I'm feeling good tonight!”

Blake grabbed their drinks, a glass of mead for Ruby and red wine for Weiss, and soon all four clinked their glasses together. “To friends and family!” Ruby cried.

“To a job well done,” Blake added.

“To having fun,” Weiss put in.

“To being filthy stinkin' rich!” Yang crowed, and all four downed their drinks. “Hey Port, another round on us!"

“There's no way we're going to make it back in safety after this,” Weiss said. “And you'd better not dip into our haul to pay for all of this; we haven't even divvied it up yet.”

“Ugh, you are such a killjoy,” Yang groaned. “Come on, live a little! When are we ever gonna get this much again. And it wasn't even illegal!”

“Well, not very illegal, anyway,” Blake drawled. “I'm sure we broke some laws. You can barely breathe in Vale with pissing off some magistrate.”

Weiss hummed thoughtfully. “The tower was probably owned by someone, for all that it's been abandoned since the Grimm attack centuries ago. Furthermore, we are supposed to declare any salvage for tax purposes. So on at least two levels we broke the law.”

“Ugh, Vale sucks,” Yang groaned, before taking a swig of her ale. “Of course, I can't party like this back home. Even if I brought back this good've a haul somehow the elders would've just taken it to 'spend on the village' and I'd be expected to go right back out there.

“So not that different,” Weiss chuckled. “Except here, everyone's so corrupt that no one is going to report you for not following the law. It's just a matter of if you can keep your ill gotten gains.”

Hours later, drunk with success and alcohol, the four girls staggered out of Beacon and onto the filthy streets of Vale. Not even stepping over a mugged corpse could get Ruby down that evening. Nothing could distract her from how right everything felt.

When she'd first arrived in Vale five months before she'd been an outsider, a barbarian unable to understand or accept anything about the city she'd been warned about her entire life. The first person she'd made a real connection to, Weiss, hadn't really simplified things, as the beautiful woman had represented everything her people had looked down upon about the city folk.

But somehow, after those few short months, full of combat, wealth, deprivation, magic, fear, and joy, they had bonded more strongly than she ever thought she could with an outsider. She spent more time with Weiss than she did her own sister, despite both of them being in the same city. And somehow, she wouldn't change a thing.

“Hey, which way should we go?” Yang asked, as she casually slugged an opportunistic moron in the jaw. His head snapped around, teeth flying, before he collapsed bonelessly onto the ancient cobblestones.

After pausing to rob the thieves of the few coppers they had, Blake pointed down the street. “Ruby's place is closer.”

“It's my flat,” Weiss grumbled. “I'm the one who signed the contract for it."

“Ruby's sounds good,” Yang agreed. “Come on sis, let's go crash you're place and split some loot.”

Weiss grumbled a little, but Ruby could tell that it was mostly for appearances, and even that stopped when she moved close enough to rest her head on the other woman's shoulder. Weiss actually blushed a little, which Ruby found more than a little funny. Weiss had no shame at all about nudity or sex, but honest, public affection made her quite embarrassed.

Once Yang and Blake had dealt with the criminals who had seen or heard about their largesse and its probably cause at Beacon, they made good progress, soon arriving at Weiss's apartment building. Unlike the cheap flophouses and rundown hovels that populated most of the poorer part of town, it was a newly renovated building, one only two blocks from the nicer living spaces that surrounded the Great Market. Obviously the owner either expected for merchants to be bold enough to make the journey through the crime ridden streets in exchange for cheaper rent, or they thought that the market district would soon grow to encompass the building. Either way, it was far nicer than it had any right to be, and had been available for a price that they could (barely) afford.

Once Weiss had the door unlocked they entered the main living area, and without a word all four began to dump their sacks out in the center of the floor. Coins and small gems made up the bulk of the haul, but a variety of statuettes, jewelry, and idols joined the growing pile. It was an impressive display of wealth, and for all that gold had relatively little allure for her, even she felt herself caught up in the moment, drooling over enough wealth to buy her village.

“Weiss,” Yang said distantly.

“Yes?”

“Remind me to team up with you more often,” Yang sighed joyfully.

Weiss smirked, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder smugly. “Of course. A little bit of research, and enough muscle to make it through some Grimm infested ruins, and we have more money than we know what to do with.”

“Little bit of research?” Ruby asked. “Weiss, you've done nothing but plan this thing for weeks now. I was actually getting a bit worried.”

“Why would you be worried?” Blake asked. “A good score always requires careful planning.”

“'Cause I've never seen Weiss fret over this kinda thing before,” Ruby said. “Usually Weiss doesn't worry about money at all. It was more than a little odd.”

“This was a lot of money,” Blake said, patting her sack.

“Not as much as the snake guy had,” Ruby pointed out.

“No,” Weiss grunted, before smirking. “But this is gold in my home. There's a big difference.”

“Hell yeah, there is,” Yang crowed, scooping up a handful of gold coins and tossing them in the air. “We're rich!”

It was far too late at night when they finally finished splitting the money, and with the help of a few bottles of wine that Weiss had gleefully shared, Blake and Yang were in no condition to walk home, so she graciously let them sleep on her floor near the fireplace for the night. With their own fortune secured in sacks, Weiss and Ruby retreated to their bedroom, where, after a brief moment of thought, she dumped the sacks on the center of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Ruby asked with a giggle.

“Just a fantasy of mine,” Weiss said, removing Ruby's cloak and letting it fall to the floor. With deft, well practiced fingers she swiftly stripped Ruby completely naked, taking a moment to admire her strong, lean form. As she always did she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the scar she'd received fending off an assassin to save her life, before straightening up and shoving the barbarian back onto the bed.

“Hey! Ack!” Ruby complained. “That's cold.”

“If that's another ice queen joke,” Weiss grumbled as she straddled her lover.

“No, I mean, it's like, really cold,” Ruby said. “And kinda hard. And a little pointy.”

Weiss giggled like a child as she hovered over Ruby, sliding a hand through the gold and gems covering her bed. “Ah, come on. I've always wanted to make love in a pile of gold, and this is my chance. You're not going to say no, are you?”

Ruby just smiled up at her. “How much wine have you had to drink, anyway?”

She giggled again. “Way too much.”

Instead of replying Ruby pulled her down, and the two began to kiss, quickly growing heated as hands wandered. Eventually Ruby started trying to pull at Weiss's clothing, and she pulled back, standing from the bed.

“What?” Ruby panted.

“Just stay there,” Weiss said, before slowly, sensually beginning to remove her own clothing. She'd seen many, many dances put on to entertain crowds and rile up guests for more personal services, and while she'd never felt a need to put on such a show for a lover, she put every bit of her grace into it, the slight stumbles her drunkenness caused interfering very little with the display. Ruby's silver eyes were wide open, and Weiss grinned like the cat who caught the canary as she finally stripped the last item away, letting the silken undergarment drift to the ground.

She straddled Ruby again, but before she continued she spotted a piece of treasure sitting beside her lover. It was the appropriate size and shape, and with a wicked grin she picked it up, before leaning down and kissing Ruby again.

“Ack! Cold!”

Ruby wasn't sure what woke her up. Normally after so much mead and intimacy with Weiss she'd sleep the whole night through, but something pulled at her consciousness. It was a cold feeling, and at first she mentally blamed the treasure pile that Weiss had insisted they sleep on like they were legendary dragons. It wasn't quite that, however. The cold was deeper, in her heart, and she found herself shivering despite the blankets and warm body next to her.

Opening her eyes, she couldn't really see anything. It was dark, even darker than it should've been, as normally some dim light made it through the windows even deep in the heart of the night. She swallowed thickly, knowing on some level that something was wrong, although she couldn't put her finger on what. The same deep, primal sense that warned her when a dangerous beast was lurking about in the wilderness told her something was very, very wrong.

“Weiss, Weiss, wake up,” she whispered, still slowly turning her head from one side to the other as she tried to make out something in the pitch blackness. “Weiss.”

“Ughhhh,” Weiss groaned, shifting slightly closer and tossing a leg over her hip. “Again? You're starting to wear even me out.”

“Weiss, something's wrong,” Ruby whispered.

“Yeah, you're not asleep,” Weiss mumbled. “I promise, I'll do whatever you want… in the morning. Just need a… a little more sleep.”

“That's not… ugh,” Ruby groaned as Weiss fell back asleep. With a sigh she pushed her lover away, standing up stiffly and stumbling from the bed, coins and other valuables falling to the floor in a cascade of invisible gold. The sound seemed strangely dampened, however, as the heavy metal should've been louder falling more than a foot onto the wooden floor.

“I am never going to sleep on money again,” Ruby whimpered, rubbing her back and wincing when she dislodged a coin that had managed to embed itself into her flesh. No, she definitely wasn't doing that again, no matter how excited her weird fantasy had made Weiss.

It was hard finding her clothing in total darkness, especially since she'd been a bit distracted by Weiss while she'd stripped her. Once she finally had something on she reclaimed her battle scythe and carefully opened the door to the rest of the apartment, not wanting to risk walking in on her sister and Blake having their own celebration.

Instead, it was pitch black as well, but she could hear muffled snoring coming from the center of the room. “Blake? Yang?”

They didn't respond, even when she called again, and with her heart pounding in her throat she stumbled through the room, heading to where Weiss kept a candle for dark nights. Usually they navigated just fine by starlight, but sometimes her lover wanted to read in the evening, and she had to have something for that.

Normally finding the candle in the dark wouldn't have been difficult, but it felt like she was somehow being watched, like danger was all around her, ready to pounce. The longer she spent in that dark, quiet room, the more she felt vulnerable, like she was being hunted by an unknown predator. With unsteady hands she finally grasped the fine beeswax candle, a gift from herself to replace the stinky, smokey tallow Weiss had been using, and she pulled flint and steel from her pouch.

It was only as she tried to strike the tinder that she realized how badly her hands were shaking. She actually paused in her work in surprise, not quite able to believe it. It felt like it had been years since she'd had such a strong, useless reaction to fear, and yet here she was, shaking like a child on her first hunt. For the first time she was almost glad that it was dark, since it meant that no one could see her weakness.

After taking several long, deep breaths to gather herself Ruby finally regained her control, striking the flint and steel to produce strangely dull sparks. It took several tries, but finally the tinder took, and then the wick thereafter, lighting the candle.

It did almost nothing for the darkness. The large candle should've provided enough light to easily make out the room, but instead it seemed to be little more than a single point in the middle of a deep, dark blackness. She couldn't even see the walls of the room, and it was far from being so large as to make that reasonable.

Something was very, very wrong.

Ruby quickly, methodically searched the apartment. It wasn't very large, but with her light the way it was she had to take her time looking everywhere. Everything was as it should be, with no signs of intruders or anything else strange, other than the muffling of all sound and dampening of all light.

Yang and Blake were still asleep, which she supposed was strange in its own right. Yang was a heavy sleeper, but normally it was impossible to do anything without waking Blake up. Even a shift in the pattern of your breathing would cause her cat ears to twitch warily, but Ruby was able to crouch over her, burning candle in hand, without it disturbing her dreams.

With nothing wrong inside of the apartment, Ruby decided to check one last thing before waking up the others. Opening the door, she crept outside, looking about warily, before heading down to the street. While they were usually dark at night, with most honest citizens (for some meaning of the term) carrying lanterns if they had some business at that late of an hour, the stars and distant buildings usually gave enough illumination for her trained eyes to navigate the streets.

Instead Ruby looked around, frowning at the excessive dimness, before deciding to walk a bit to see where the dimming effect began and ended. She had only begun to walk when she spotted a body lying against the side of the building. She almost moved on, her time in Vale having conditioned her to ignore peopleliving or dead lying in the street, something that had been difficult to get used to after growing up in insular, tightly knit Patch. Without Weiss or Blake around to scold her for it, she decided to check on the person.

They were a woman of more than twice her years, with a face made up with powders and creams to seem younger, if poorly,something severely undermined by black streaks under her eyes. She was dressed in very little clothing, and from what Ruby could guess, were she younger and more attractive, the Weiss she had first met upon arriving in Vale would probably have paid for her services.

She also shouldn't have been passed out in the streets, without any sign of injury or intoxication causing her collapse. Ruby checked her pulse, and was relieved to find it, although it seemed slow, sluggish. She tried to shake her awake, but she didn't react at all, and it was then that she noticed something else odd. The black streaks, which she had assumed had come from tears mixing with kohl, were slimy and thick, and her eyes widened when she realized that their was a black streak on the wall behind her as well. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but if she had to guess, she'd say that the black ooze ran straight up the wall towards her window.

Ruby's fear sharpened, no longer seeming quite so baseless. She might've been able to dismiss her instincts crying out that something was wrong, or even somehow assumed that the muffling of sound and light were only in her head. But this was far more suspicious, and the only thing that kept her from running up the stairs was the burning candle in her hands, and how difficult it had been for her to light it in the first place.

As she hurried back towards the door she noticed two more bodies, this time a pair of laborers, tall and strong, collapsed near the street corner. While the woman may have been taking a break in the alley before continuing her walk or job, they were obviously taken by surprise, simply collapsing on the spot without a word. It was enough to make her speed up her step, using the arm holding her scythe to shield her candle as best as she could from the wind of her movement.

When she reached her door she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, leaning her deployed battle scythe against her shoulder so that she could carefully open the door without setting down her candle. It creaked open, and the gloom within was somehow even thicker, more impenetrable than before. The candle barely seemed to do anything, but she could somehow see something moving in the dark.

“Yang? Blake? Weiss?”

There was no response, but she heard something shifting in the room. Jaw tightening, she stepped inside, carefully shutting the door before her, before raising her scythe, choking up her grip to provide control one handed. It was a poor way to fight, but without better lighting she had no choice.

She slowly made her way across the room, eyes darting about, her heart jumping every time she saw something move, but every time it was simply her eyes playing tricks on her. Every figure was a piece of furniture, every attacker was naught but a shadow shadow, every monster an illusion when examined properly in the dim light.

When she reached her sister she nudged her with a toe. “Yang. Yang… Yang!”

She didn't move, didn't react. Finally, Ruby looked down, only to gasp at what she saw. Trailing down her face were the same thick, slimy black trails, as something apparently poured from her eyes, before being drawn across the room in the direction of the bedroom. One final glance at Blake to verify the same thing, and she was moving towards the bedroom door, keeping one eye on the slime trail while looking around for danger.

She didn't even bother opening the door, simply kicking it open, the loud slam a barely audible thud. Looming over the bed, over Weiss, was the most hideous creature she had ever seen.

It was thin, with long, spindly limbs, the feet coming to a single, sharp point, while the arms ended in three long, slender claws. The rest of the body was like a human shadow, angular and distorted, but recognizable in form, with bony plates scattered here and there, notably a skull and ribs. The face was vaguely human in shape under the bone, with burning red coals for eyes, and a gaping, fang filled maw.

Without hesitating she lunged forward, swinging her scythe in a broad, desperate stroke, hitting nothing but air. Unfortunately, the fast motion made the candle gutter out to almost nothing, and she was reduced to standing perfectly still, knowing there was a monster in the dark, unable to do a thing to stop it. She tried to listen, tried to feel the motion of the air, or see something in the dim ember of candle light, but it was like being wrapped in a blanket of night. All was still, silent, and shadowed.

After far too long the candle finally stopped sputtering, and Ruby turned about looking for the monster once more. It was when she had turned halfway around that she saw it, the thing having moved behind her, ready to attack once more. She swung her scythe again, trying her best to shield the candle with her body, but once again the tiny light failed, and she could do nothing but stand still, desperately hoping to find it before it could attack her again.

Then she felt the claws dig into her back. She reacted instantly to the sneak attack, diving forward into a roll that ended with her swinging her scythe, and this time, finally, she made contact. The monster broke its silence with a loud, terrible screech, which tore through her, scraping her bones for marrow and hollowing out her heart, leaving nothing but ice and fear behind.

This time she could hear it moving, the dullness slightly receded, and she didn't even hesitate, dropping the now completely snuffed candle on the ground as she spun in place, swinging her scythe right towards where she was sure the monster was. She made contact once again, and this blow sheared through something, and a moment later she heard something thump onto the floor, before the shrieking renewed.

Unfortunately her next swing missed, and her follow up hit the wall, so she paused, holding her scythe in both hands, trying to slow her breathing as she listened for the monster once again. She almost lashed out when she heard another sound, only to pause as she recognized Weiss's voice, even if she couldn't hold onto the words passing through her ears and mind. She shuddered, the motion agitating the cut on her back, and then the room was finally illuminated.

Weiss, nude and beautiful as ever, crouched on the bed, her sword in hand covered in a pale, spectral blue flame. She looked weak, her hand trembling, unable to fully stand as she held the weapon as high as she could through her enervation, trying to provide the best light she could. Ruby could see the lines of black slime down her own face, as whatever had happened to the others has been done to her as well.

Then Ruby turned, reacting almost before she sensed it, swinging her scythe once more at the monster. It was looming behind her once more, its left hand missing from her earlier attack, and, finally able to see, Ruby aimed her swing directly towards its neck. The scythe cut through, and the head bounced away, breaking down into the same black ooze before turning into the oily, smokey fog of a dead Grimm, its body slowly following.

“Weiss!” Ruby shouted, lowering her scythe and turning to her lover. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she rasped, raising a shaking hand to her face, rubbing away the slime with a look of disgust. “What the hell was that?”

Weiss had never felt so completely drained in her life. Not after performing all night magical rituals with Cinder and the others, not after the frantic, desperate sword training lessons her sister gave her before she left to become a mercenary, not even after the wild, week long benders that dragged her to half the houses of ill repute in the city trying to forget everything. It was as though every bit of energy had been ripped from her body, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its place.

She'd used what little energy she had left to cleanse and bind Ruby's injury, the process wearing her out so badly that her lover had been forced to dress her, as she could do little more than slowly shift her limbs by the time the process was complete. Ruby had, much to her protestations, actually carried her into the main room, where she set her on a large chair and lit several candles.

Blake and Yang stirred sluggishly, Blake finally sitting up and blinking dazedly around the room. She didn't even seem to the notice the slime on her face, her nearly vacant expression only gaining a little focus when she saw them. “Weiss… Ruby. What happened?”

“Grimm,” Ruby answered. “I've never seen anything like it.”

Blake blink a couple of times, before starting to stand only to collapse when her legs wouldn't support her weight. She blinked down at them, an expression of betrayal on her face, before looking back up at Ruby for answers.

“I don't know,” Ruby said. “Weiss's the same, and I think it wasn't just us. There were some people in the street the same way.”

Weiss gathered her strength for a moment, before speaking, her voice small and weak. “The Grimm must've gained strength by taking ours. Given enough time we'd be dead, and it probably would've expanded the area effected. This whole block probably would've died before anyone noticed if Ruby hadn't stopped it.”

“How come you weren't effected?” Blake demanded.

“I dunno,” Ruby said. “I just… woke up. When this whole thing started. Dunno know why.”

Weiss sighed, leaning back into her seat as Blake and Ruby talked. She was too tired to really maintain a conversation, but she hadn't wanted to lapse into silence while Ruby was obviously upset. She smiled slightly, glad for the diversion, as she let herself mentally drift.

She had managed to fall asleep again, only to awaken when the smell of cooking bacon filled the air. They rarely made their own food, with Weiss knowing nothing about how to do so, and Ruby being limited to roasting fresh game over a campfire, but Yang had somehow picked up some real cooking skills, and when she came back to herself it was to the sight of the exhausted blonde hunched over the fireplace, slowly poking at crisping bacon in a pan, bread sitting on the stone nearby to heat.

“You're awake!” Ruby said.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Did anything happen?”

“Uh… good news or bad news?” Ruby asked, moving to sit beside her on the seat.

Weiss narrowed her eyes. “How bad?”

“Uh… we're all alive, so it could be worse news,” Ruby hedged.

Weiss frowned. “So, very bad news.”

“Kinda,” Ruby agreed with a wince.

Weiss groaned in dismay. “How about good news… then breakfast… then bad news.”

Yang chuckled. “Gotta recharge before the bad?”

“Well, the good news is we're all alive,” Ruby said brightly. “The Grimm's gone, and the longer they've been up the better they've been feeling.”

“Yeah, you really need to put some meat on those bones, Weiss,” Yang taunted. “You're the only one who fell back asleep.”

Weiss glowered at her, not even breaking her expression when the other woman handed her a plate of food. “I also helped Ruby deal with the Grimm, while you two slept right through it.”

“Details,” Yang dismissed.

As annoying as the woman was, she prepared a filling meal. The fresh, hot bread was slathered with honey and fruit preserves, and the bacon was crispy, just the way she liked it. After crunching on a piece she groaned ecstatically. “Alright… you get to live.”

“How kind of you,” Blake drawled, although Weiss noticed she hadn't even looked up from her own breakfast.

Once they were all finished, Weiss leaned back against Ruby, a smile on her face as she finally felt a bit more human. “Okay, so what's the bad news.”

“Um… maybe it's better if you see for yourself.”

“See for myself?”

“Yeah… why don't you check our room.”

It was another typical night at Beacon, with Weiss nursing her red wine while Ruby sipped at her mead. Blake and Yang had gone elsewhere for the evening, probably driven off by Weiss's smoldering temper. Even most of a day after finding out the truth, her lover still wasn't over it.

“I can't believe it was all trash,” Weiss grumbled again.

Ruby chuckled. “Well, you know… easy come, easy go.”

Weiss glared at her, before sighing and slumping against the table. “But there was so much!”

The golden treasures they'd taken from the abandoned tower had turned out to be anything but valuable. With the Grimm cursing it dead, the treasure had turned out to be nothing but corroded scraps, rusty iron, and broken clay and pewter bits. Weiss hadn't been able to determine whether the fake treasure and associated Grimm had been an intentional trap placed by the tower's former owner, or if it had been something put together by the Grimm seeking gullible treasure hunters to prey upon, but either way they had been left with nothing.

“What's really bothering you?” Ruby asked.

“What do you mean?” Weiss asked, her back tensing slightly.

“Weiss, you're the one who taught me what 'easy come easy goes' means,” Ruby pointed out. “Usually you're the first one to shrug that kinda stuff off. So why're you so upset now?”

Weiss was quiet for a long time, before finally sighing. “You know our apartment?”

“Uh huh,” Ruby hummed. “What about it?”

“Before… before we moved in together… before we got together, I didn't have anything beyond what I could carry,” Weiss said. “Just a belt pouch of money, the clothes on my back, and my ancestral sword. Otherwise, I would fight or steal to fill my pouch, and then find someone's bed to sleep in for the night. It's been… years since I've had a room that required a lease. I haven't… I haven't had a home since I left Schnee Manor.”

“What's wrong with that?” Ruby asked.

“Everything,” Weiss sighed. “And nothing. I guess… I was used to a lifestyle once, where I had roots, and books, and fancy candles, and staff cooking me meals, and a warmed bed ready for me at night. All with a steady roof over my head and no risk of losing it all. Well, no risk until I chose to throw it away. Then I had nothing to lose, but that meant I had nothing at all. I was rudderless, alone in crowds, with nothing to depend on, and nothing depending on me.

“But now… I don't want that anymore. I want a life with you. With a home, and a bed, and the security not to need to run when things go wrong. Money… money had no value to me when my family had so much of it, and no value to me when I needed no more than I could take in a day. But now… now I don't want to risk losing this… this life we're building.”

“I had no idea,” Ruby said, taking her hand. “This has been really bothering you, hasn't it?”

“It should bother you, too,” Weiss said. “Vale chews up and spits people out. That was fine when I didn't care what happened to me tomorrow, but I don't want that anymore. I want… I want a tomorrow, not just a today. And a tomorrow requires more than odd jobs and petty crimes.”

“Then we'll find more.”

“It's not that simple,” Weiss said.

Ruby grinned at her. “It's only not simple if you make it not simple. Besides, even if something does go wrong, I know how to live in the forest with nothing at all. We'll figure out how to get by, I promise.”

“Dolt,” Weiss said, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, who's worrying about silly stuff here,” Ruby said. “You know, you should share this stuff with me. We're in this together, you know? You don't have to worry alone.”

“I- huh,” Weiss said, leaning back in her seat. “I suppose you're right.”

“Of course I am,” Ruby said with a grin. “Now, how 'bout I get us another round of drinks, and then we can figure out what we can do next, since I guess we have to pay money to that landlord guy every month.”

“Sure,” Weiss said with a smile. “Together.”

#white rose week #white rose #ruby rose #weiss schnee #rwby #fanfic

[beerecordings]

Selkie Night

Yeah hi so you know how I was apologizing like six hours ago about how I hadn’t had any writing for you lately? well then this happened because i can’t phucken sleep dudes ahhhhh

ANYWAy it’s okay because I got this written in like three hours. and i actually kind of love it??? dude i mentioned my selkie Chase headcanon ONCE (1nce) today and then this sidelines me out of nowhere. i’ve literally never planned to write anything about this it was just like “hehe what if Chsae.... were SELKIE” but anyway here it is and it kind of rocks my socks off I love it. as a side note, I did take some liberties with selkie lore. don’t know what the most common beliefs are, these are just based on the stories I know of. I think most selkie stories are about falling in love with humans, but in this one Chase and Stacy are both selkie.

trigger warning for some mild suicidal ideation, okay? but don’t even think about fussing at me about the nudity in this fic it could not possibly be less sexual. There is an abrupt start tho lolll

And HEY -

I hope you enjoy :) Thanks for reading, my friend.

He tears off his clothes as he runs, pulling his shirt over his head, tugging his pants off mid-stride, stripping until, by the time his bare feet are pounding against wet sand instead of dry, he is naked except for the coat he carries.

The wind rushes across his head, stroking back his downy hair warmly, and the sandy earth beneath his feet is calling to him – stay, stay, brother, child, on this side of the water, where the men make their homes, and the tide keeps its distance. Here you have made your dwelling for so many years. Here you have spoken, loved, eaten, drank. Here you must stay.

No, no. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters but them.

“Stacy!” he screams, as his feet find the harsh plastic of the dock. “Stacy! Sorcha! A chuisle mo chroí!”

He runs, runs, runs towards the end of the dock, runs towards the roiling black waves of the ocean, pulling his coat over his shoulders. Ah, its weight on his back! Its warmth! How long has it been? Tears streak his face like stars the night sky, and then he is at the end of the dock, and he does not stop, he does not pause, does not allow himself even a moment of doubt before he leaps, graceful as a swan, and his body curves beautifully into a dive he has performed a thousand times before, and when he plunges hands-first into the frigid expanse of the great dark water, he is no longer a man.

Ah, to be a seal again!

For a moment, Chase can only dive on, deeper into the water, the suddenness of the transformation leaving him, as always, momentarily numb, momentarily taken over, the thoughts of a man doing their best to drift out of his head. He twitches his long whiskers and swims down through the water, now comfortably cool against his smooth, heavy skin and fat, and no longer so dark with eyes as dark to match. His black-and-white-dappled body cuts easily through the waves, carrying him farther, farther out to sea, away from the noise and the light and the smell of men, away from the other part of himself. Ah, he drifts. He drifts.

He is far away now. Far away from men. As if he is not one of them.

Focus, Chase, something in his head insists, and he shakes his snout, heading back towards the surface of the water for a breath of air. Focus, Conchobhar.

Bottling out of the water, he peers around in all directions, snuffling at the air for a smell of his mate and his puppies. He turns his head West and takes off again, swift as a seal, determined as a man. One broken heart sitting in the middle of his chest, no matter the form he takes.

The cliffs of the next town over appear off in the distance as he swims, bringing with them plentiful places to rest. Scattered across rocks and outcroppings, he smells for signs of his family, the vibrations in the water warning his whiskers if anything stirs that might be them.

A familiar smell – Sorcha? Pups?

No. Other selkie, a trio of them, mixed in with the seals. Maybe they have seen them.

He barks an anxious greeting from a few feet away, enough to rouse them with worried barks to answer him – predators? Hunters? Boats? Is all well, brother? Is all well?

Despairing, he yelps back at them. No predators. Just pain. The seals snuffle back to sleep, but the selkie are alerted, pushing past the others to slip into the water with him. Soon, they are circling him in friendly greeting, barking. He does his best to swim with them, exhausted by his grief. Eventually, he pulls back his hood from his head, and he is a man again, kicking his legs in the water, keeping his head afloat with ease. He was, quite literally, born swimming, and with his coat on, he will not be cold for a long time.

“What's the matter, brother?” asks a brown-skin selkie, drawing back her hood and surfacing with lengths of long, unkempt hair floating lovely on the water around her. It has been a long time since she was a woman. “Do you need someone to swim with?”

“Here is a place of safety,” offers a second, a man twice Chase's size, with a smile warm as the beach in the summer. “Would you like to come lie down?”

“Please,” he croaks. His voice is the backbone of a fish, fragile and thin. “My mate has taken her coat back from me and come back to the water with my children. Please, have you seen her?”

The other selkie exchange worried looks.

“Perhaps we ought not to tell you,” frowns the third selkie, circling Chase slowly, her hands cutting through the water. Her white body gleams in the moonlight on the surface of the ocean, covered only by her heavy seal-skin coat. “If she took her coat back, I wouldn't guess that she wants to be reunited with you.”

His tears mix with the salt of the sea. “I know, I know. But I have to see her again. I need to understand. Please, my heart is shattered. If she wants to go, I have never kept her coat from her, but I have to see my pups again.”

“Look, he is to be trusted,” insists the first, swimming closer to Chase's side and touching the coat wrapped around him. “If she was afraid of him, if he were to hurt her or her babies, she would have stolen his coat, so she would have been safe from him. Isn't that so? She has given you a chance to see them again yet. Poor brother, don't cry.”

“We did see them,” offers the second, pointing out farther up the coastline. “Or I would guess that was them. A grey-coat female with a pair of pups alongside her. She ought to be careful. It can be dangerous territory out there where the black-and-whites roam. No humans, though. They can't get their boats out there because the water's so shallow. Not good fishing for them.”

“Yes,” breathes Chase, simultaneously relieved and exhausted by the news. “Yes, that sounds like them. That sounds like somewhere she would go.”

He reaches for his hood again, turning towards his family. “Thank you so much. I'm sorry to have woken you.”

“It's nothing, brother.”

“We look out for our own. We're glad to help.”

“Yes, we can sleep any time. Life is good here. Hey, listen.”

Chase is already a seal again, but he pauses, his great dark eyes turning back to them.

The others all have pity in their eyes. Pity and worry and warmth.

“If you don't find her,” calls his brother. “Or if she won't have you, you can come back here, okay? We live well. The water's never too cold and the fish are never too fast. The smell of men will wash off you in a little time, and next season more of our sisters and brothers will come to see us, and you can settle down again with new pups. Okay?”

Chase doesn't know how to answer that. He knows it is not something that can be. There is no other family for him than one he loves now. There is no other home for him than that which he built amid men. But he gives them a sharp, grateful bark, turning his smooth body back into the waves.

“Don't swim alone,” he hears one call, as he slips away.

Ah, but he had almost forgotten the brotherhood of selkie.

Knowing that he is headed towards them invigorates him, and he remembers soon enough his old speed. He was always small for a seal, he knows, but he is quick as the froth on the waves, cutting through the water with the speed of a motor on the back of a man's boat and the familiarity of a creature who has belonged to the ocean since the day his mother bore him. He almost loses himself in it – it's so easy to start thinking like a seal again, to be distracted by fish and exciting waves building up in the distance, to snuffle against the sand looking for shiny shells, to find a safe rock to drag himself onto and fall asleep on in full seal form, abandoning the guise of a human. It's true, he could give up everything he's built for so long now and crash back into the familiar arms of the ocean. Live among his real people instead of pretending to be human every day.

But the thought of them always brings his focus back.

The moon is dipping down by the time he finds them, but still the darkness surrounds them, and not even the earliest fishers are rising from their sleep. And there she is on the water, as perfect as the day he met her. Silver in the moonlight.

He knows she feels his vibrations coming from a mile away, but she does not turn or stop, only continues her slow, gentle swim back towards the shore. Speeding up beside her does nothing to change her either. He recalls his pace and finds his rhythm beside her, and the two of them are all but floating through the waves, caught in the exact same tide, side-by-side.

It's almost like the old days. They were so young. Too young, maybe. Most humans would say so. He didn't know that at the time, but she did, and still she took him in, called him her own. Gave him her coat on the day of their wedding without hesitation and kissed his when he handed it over, like it was holy, like it was sacred.

His freedom. His being. His love. All of it held there in her arms.

She promised to protect it, and he, in turn, fell to his knees at her feet, and clutched her coat to his chest, and swore to her on everything that he was, in a tongue not fully human, that no harm would ever come to the seal-skin in his arms.

She cried for love of him. He kissed her with salt on his face. He never meant anything more than the promise he gave her that day.

But here they are.

The silence between them has gone cold.

He gives a rough, desperate bark, begging her to say anything, to do anything, to give him anything. She offers a small chirp and nothing else, until at last they are lying side-by-side on the shore of the beach.

He draws his hood back first. Finally, she pulls hers back too.

Long black hair, heavy with water, piles in the sand at her head. Huge dark eyes stare at him in the darkness. Her moonlight flesh is familiar to him. He could reach out and touch her, but he won't. She no longer wants him. He will never touch her again. Not her skin, not her coat, perhaps not even her children.

Tears course down his cheeks.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers. “That I left so suddenly.”

“Fuck,” he answers eloquently, wiping tears from his face. “Fuck, Stacy. How could you have just – how could you just – and to take the kids – I got home and their coats were gone and I thought maybe someone had stolen you, I didn't – without even telling me...”

He trails off, swallowing back another sob. He wishes she weren't so calm. Hell, he can't even tell if she's paying attention. She's already drawing her mind away from the land. Giving herself back to the ocean.

“My name,” she murmurs. “Is Sorcha.”

He sighs, sitting up and shaking his head. “Okay,” he says. “You picked Stacy for yourself when we moved into the world where the men live, but sure. Sorcha.”

“And yours is Conchobhar.” She stares up at him. “Or it was, when I married you.”

He rubs at his beard, tamping down a frustrated hurt that burns like fishing netting around his chest.

“I like Chase better.”

“I know,” she says. “We no longer want the same things.”

“That's – Sorcha, that's supposed to be something you figure out when you're married, not something you leave them for. Not something you take their pups away for. How could you do this to me? You don't – you don't understand how much this hurts.”

He's crying in earnest now, clutching his coat close around him.

“Maybe I could have stayed,” she says. Her voice is velvet waves and he hates it. Where's her ferocity gone? Her passion, her laughter? Does she only have velvet for him now? “But Hunter and Saoirse... that wasn't I wanted for them. To never know who they really are. I couldn't watch them suffocate on the land like that anymore.”

“We could go out to sea more often,” he tells her, and he knows he's begging, but he doesn't care, not anymore. “Every weekend, if you wanted! I can move us even closer to the ocean soon as things start going back to the way they were with my work.”

“Every weekend,” she laughs. “When I was a child, we spent the whole summer and winter in the water. Half the year, Conchobhar, and not the safest or easiest times either. We lived as we were meant to live. Truly in this world. Truly in the water.”

She takes a deep breath and gets up, stepping back towards the water, letting her calves be swallowed up again. “And you, how long did you spend at sea before you even touched a human being? Oh, your work – you're so funny to me, sometimes, that a creature who didn't touch so much as a boat radio until he was at least fourteen chooses to live his life working with cameras and computers.”

Chase can't help but snort out a laugh, shaking his head. Well, she's got a point. He didn't speak anything but an antique Gaelic til he was twelve, and his first contact with a human was nearly getting shot by some pissed-off fisherman. When they were human, they were human with other selkie, and that was all there was. That was all he needed.

“I found what I loved,” he says.

“Attention,” suggests Sorcha flatly, her back to him now. “Money. Approval from strangers. Time with your cameras instead of your family.”

She may as well be a pissed-off fisherman. He's at the wrong side of her gun and, fuck, but he doesn't know how to take blows like this.

“I know I haven't always been perfect,” she says, surprising him. “I realize now that when you began to struggle with – with the depression, I should have done more than ask you to come out to sea. I was thinking of myself, not you, thinking of how scared I was and what I would do and what I needed, and – Chase, that was wrong of me. I know you need real help. I'm sorry I didn't help you get it. I hope you are getting it now. I still want what's best for you. Really, I...”

There's some emotion out of her, at least, but nothing like the crashing ocean she used to be.

She's really made up her mind, isn't she?

She's really gone.

Here on the beach, he's lost her.

He wonders how close the killer sharks he was warned about swim, and the thought makes him laugh. Maybe he should hold off on impulses like that until she's done apologizing for ignoring him the time he confessed to her that he couldn't help but want to die, resting his head on her stomach while she stroked his hair and promised him everything would be okay, a baby wrapped up in seal-skin asleep on the mattress beside them.

“I can't live like that anymore, Chase. Can't be away so long. Can't let my pups be away so long. I was happy to go with you to live like mostly normal human people. I was happy to help you follow your dreams. But you've lost your sense of reality. You've lost your sense of yourself. And somewhere in the hunt for what you want, you pushed me and Hunter and Saoirse under the waves behind you.”

“Fuck, Stacy – Sorcha, please, don't say that. I love them so much.”

She turns to him, fair as a star, shining in the moonlight. She's like something out of a storybook, he thinks, and not just because of the shape-shifting.

“I know,” she answers. “But not enough to change.”

And if there's truth to that, well. He doesn't have an answer. And if it's false, then what can't be changed is her mind, and she is lost to him.

“We're heading North,” she says. “Unless you're coming with, you won't be able to find us again for some time.”

“Will you be back next season?” he manages.

Turned away from her now. Can't meet that light in the eyes.

“Yeah. Yes, of course. We'll come by.”

“You swear it?”

“Yes.”

“You've broken your promises before.”

“I know.”

“Can I see them one more time?”

She turns towards the water and her gaze allows Chase to see them at last – two little bodies circling sleepily around beneath a rocky outcropping, safe as pearls in the hiding spot their mother found them.

“Yeah,” she says. “If you go with your coat on. I've always wanted them to see you with your coat on. She's starting to look just like you, you know... When was the last time you saw her with her coat on?”

He is already slipping away, wearing his seal form again.

Hunter is afraid of the disturbances in the water at first.

It's bigger than his mother, whatever's coming. It's fast and it's headed right towards him.

He pokes his head up out of the water, chirruping anxiously for his sister. She comes up after him, curious, floating lazily around on the water, and then, a moment later –

She lets out a high-pitched seal yip and streaks through the water towards her father.

Chase pushes their faces together in a kiss greeting and circles with his little girl, stunned by how easy she keeps up, by the shine on her healthy young coat, and Sorcha is right, it's just like his own, dappled black and white, with the blond patch on her tiny, whiskered snout.

Hunter zips past him a second later, barking and bumping into him again and again, a tiny chunk of seal blubber and affection. Chase bursts into yelping laughs and breaches with his pups, splashed again and again by Hunter slapping his fin on the water.

Tiny arms wrap suddenly around his neck and Saoirse is there with her hood drawn back, giggling and kicking in the water, her coat around her shoulders. Chase draws back his hood too and carries her to the rocks, scooping up Hunter too, and clutching both of his children as tightly as he can to his chest, kissing at their soaking hair, at their beautiful little faces, at first one hand, then the other, with all ten tiny, tiny almost-human fingers.

“I love you,” he whispers, again and again. Hunter buries his face in his collarbone, stroking at the ends of his hair. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy!” Saoirse sobs, and it's only when he realizes that his daughter is crying just from hearing him say it that maybe Sorcha was right about everything after all.

He has to let them go.

He crumples to his knees on the sharp stones of the outcropping, and the last part of his heart shatters clean in half.

The moon stares down at them. She's a tired old stone and she's watched a great many tides come and go, just like this one. He’s not the first seal to die beneath her gaze.

“Chase?”

The clean sand of the beach washes up its morning collection of shells and rocks, and with it comes a young man in a red hoodie, with a backpack thrown over his shoulder and utter terror in his eyes.

“Chase?” he repeats, louder. He's the second person today to sprint down this beach, shouting for the person he's lost.

“Chase, are you here? Man, please answer me! Chase, you're scaring me! Chase Brody, hello?”

Swearing under his breath, Jackie continues down the white expanse of the beach. He'd be ticked to have to be out here running around at six in the morning under most conditions, sure, but when he came home last night and found Chase's room empty – and worse, his coat gone –

“Chase!” he hollers, tears burning in his eyes. “Chase, Chase, where are you? Don't be gone, bud, please don't be gone...”

He knows he's been suicidal. He knows he's been acting reckless. He knows. But just – please, God, don't let his friend have just disappeared, don't let him just be gone. Jackie will never know if he went back to the ocean or something worse, and he can't bear that, he can't –

“Chase!” he cries, relief flooding down his chest. “Chase, is that you?”

A moment later, he's afraid again. The little figure on the beach, curled up beneath a black and white coat, does not move when he calls his name.

“Hey, hey, buddy, are you with me?” Jackie falls to his knees beside him, and, oh, thank God, it really is Chase, little blond tuft poking out at the top of his hair and all. Jackie presses his fingers beneath his chin, searching for a pulse.

“Jackie?” mumbles Chase, blinking open reddened eyes.

“Oh, Chase,” breathes Jackie, scooping him up into a hug so tight Chase's coat might just decide to become one with his skin again. “Holy shit, Chase, I was – you scared me a little, haha, you were just gone, and I was scared you might have done something stupid, or – or – oh, I don't know. It doesn't matter now. Are you okay?”

Chase sniffles and drags his coat in close again, trying his best to push himself up on shaking arms. His face is as white as moonlight, his lips blue as blood from sleeping on the cold beach without blubber to keep him warm. His knees are soaked red, scored with deep cuts.

“Poor guy,” soothes Jackie nervously, trying to be gentle, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. Chase has told him that being in his other form can be like a whole different mindspace – maybe, in his head, Chase is still out there at sea. “Chase, can you hear me okay? Are you alright?”

Chase just shakes his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

“Oh, buddy. What happened?”

“Stacy,” he chokes out, in a voice raw with crying. “T-took Hunter and Saoirse.”

“Took them? You mean someplace other than staying with her sister?”

Hot tears course down Chase's cheeks, watering the damp sand beneath his head.

“Took them out to sea,” he whimpers, hiding his face in his hands. “Took them out to live like real Selkie, like she always wanted.”

A cold sort of horror hurts its way down Jackie's chest.

“Shit... Chaser, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, man.”

Sniffling, Chase stares with reddened eyes out at the ocean and shakes his head, biting down hard on his lip.

Jackie rubs his shoulder patiently for a long few minutes. Focus on that, Chase. Try to calm down.

The tide draws closer and closer, sighing against the sand. Seagulls circle lazily overhead, searching for scraps. This world he used to know so well is still in harmony, like it always was when he was young.

It just doesn't need him anymore.

Maybe he was the one that walked away from it, but he doesn't know how to go back now, and, with his wife and his heart-lights gone, all the ocean has done to him is take.

“There's something I want you to know,” he croaks out, turning to meet Jackie's eyes.

“Yeah, man. What is it?”

“My real name,” he says. “Is Conchobhar.”

There's a slight pause from Jackie above him, but his voice is still calm when he speaks. Calm and sympathetic. Trying so hard to be there for him. Everybody always is, and he's always too broken to be fixed by it.

“Okay, Conchobhar,” he says. “Is that what you want me to call you now?”

Chase licks at the salt on his dry, cracking lips, huddling down under his coat.

“No,” he whispers finally. “Just wanted you to know. Just... wanted someone to remember.”

Jackie's hand claps down on his shoulder again. “Okay, buddy. I'll remember. Course I will.”

“Thank you. Jackie. Thank you. I don't deserve a friend like you, I don't deserve – I'm such a mess, and a screw-up, and I think I'm losing it, man, I think – ”

“Hey, hey, sh, sh, Chase, it's okay. It's okay. We're going to figure it out. We're going to figure this out, I promise. We can talk all you want when we get home. But first order of business is getting your naked ass off this beach before the tourists show up, okay?”

Chase laughs shakily, reaching up to clutch at Jackie's hand on his shoulder. Ah, but even the touch of him is different. His hands belong to the earth. His hands belong to mankind.

Chase is going back with him.

“I brought you clothes since your coat was gone, figured you must have gone swimming. Here, get some pants on. There you go. Fuck, aren't you freezing? Here, a shirt, and why don't we tuck that coat away, you aren't exactly inconspicuous. Don't want anyone starting any rumors about selkie in this area, man... Imagine what the fans would say. Bro Average, more like... fuck, I have a seal pun on the tip of my tongue, I can't find it. Come on, so. Poor bud. Come here, I'll help you. You're exhausted.”

Chase lists obediently against his friend's chest, letting Jackie wrap a reassuring arm around him. He can almost feel Jackie's anxiety, can almost feel Jackie's fear, but the thin cloak of humor and steadfastness he wraps around it is grounding, and he doesn't want to look through the curtain right now.

“We're going to look after you,” Jackie promises, once they're inside a cab and heading back to his place. Chase is slumped against the glass of the window, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Me and Marv and Henrik. And you can finally meet my buddy Jameson. Remember I told you about the demi-fae I've been getting tea with? You're going to love him, guy's an absolute legend.”

“Mmh.”

“You can stay with me and Henrik long as you want, yeah? Forever, if you want to. Going to go home and patch up these poor knees of yours and get you all warm and dry. You'll tell me everything that happened and we'll get it all worked out. Yeah? We'll all look after each other. And we'll all be healthy and cared for and safe, how about that?”

And if Jackie's voice cracks a little on the word 'safe,' and he suddenly has to look away with those last words, well, Chase doesn't care. He lets Jackie drone on as enthusiastically as he can manage, watching his friend's leg bounce nervously on the seat beside him as the empathetic grief rows over Jackie's chest. The ocean slips along past the car, visible over high green hills, sparkling like diamond in the sun.

Chase turns away from it.

His heart is broken.

He doesn't want to be Selkie anymore. All it's brought him now is hurt.

He goes back to Jackie's place and falls asleep in his bed before Jackie is even finished tucking him in. Jackie brings his backpack in and sets it in his own room, almost forgetting about the seal-skin coat tucked away inside, already focused on getting his home ready to keep Chase safe and well and recovering.

Chase doesn't ask for it back.

#mythology au #selkie chase #tw suicidal ideation #chase brody #writers of jack #bee writes #k i'm going to bed lmao #selkie

[khoicesbyk]

The Nanny Affair

Chapter 12.) The Gala. Part 3.

Author’s Note: This little fanfic rewrite of chapter 12 was a challenge thrown down by a skilled writer/sister friend. I accept! (Contains MAJOR Spoilers! If you don’t like to be spoiled or haven’t read the chapter; do NOT continue!) (All Characters and some of the dialogues are property of Pixelberry. This is just a fun little fanfic rewrite of chapter 12.). One more thing: this was written entirely on my iPhone.

***Rated: Mature 18+. Contains sexual content, nudity and strong language.

***Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters.

***Characters: Sam Dalton (LI), Krystal Parker (MC), Mason, Mickey and Carter and Mr. and Mrs. Dalton (Side Characters).

Part 3 picks up where Part 2 left off.

Current Word Count: 2,104

She tried to back away; long enough to calm the leg spasms she was starting to experience. Sam was NOT having that.

“Ohh no my little kitten! You DON’T move one inch!”, he growled. His voice was so low and rumbling, it nearly scared her. It was like he was possessed or something. Her moans, her shrieks and especially her screams were like songs to his ears. Her clit was on fire! Every time he either licked, nipped or sucked on it; it drove her further and further to that edge. It pulsed from the repeated friction of his mouth and his fingers. And her vaginal muscles clenched and released every time he circled her entrance. And whether she wanted to admit it or not; she enjoyed watching his head move in between her legs.

Sam was having fun taking his time. But soon that fun would be slightly interrupted.

“Sam please! If you don’t stop now I won’t last much longer…ohhhhhhhh fuck!”, she exclaimed. Hopeful that it’ll cause him to at least slow down. Even though, he will slightly annoyed by her request; he granted it anyway. She felt relief once he let her go. She was able to finally take a breath; because she couldn’t while he was exploring her lower region.

Sam kissed his way back to her lips by kissing all over her stomach, nipping at her ribcage and of course stopping to marvel, drool and slobber all over her breasts. He would alternate pleasing one breast and teasing the other.

“Mmmmmmmmm…Now that feels so good!”, she purred.

“Good! I’m glad my kitten has enjoyed having her body; literally worshipped from head to toe. Now if you don’t mind…”, he told her before plunging his tongue into her mouth. He broke their kiss with, “I think it’s only fair to share the pleasure, don’t you?”

“Always. Besides your kitten owes you for nearly trying to kill her!”, she responded.

“For the record: I was NOT trying to kill you kitten! I just wanted to take my time and mark MY territory! THAT’S what I was trying to do.”, he responds.

“Yeah! Yeah! Let’s get you out of the Armani suit before I ruin it!”, she told him.

“Scuse me?! When in the hell did you get so damn bossy?! I thought I was the boss here.”, he says to her.

“You are the boss Mr. Dalton. Just not in this moment. In this moment; kitten is going to play.”, she purred in his ear, “now less talk; more clothing removal Mr. Dalton!”

“Yes ma’am! I am at your service!”, he told her as he started peeling off his Armani suit. It didn’t take Sam long to deposit his clothes on the floor in a lazy pile. Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at the sight of him. He was standing at the end of the bed naked. Honestly and completely. Ohhh she was going to have her revenge fun with him.

“Holy fucking shit! This man’s got a fucking cannon between his legs!”, she thinks to herself with a teasing smile on her lips.

“Meeeeeooooowwwww! Well…somebody’s happy to see me!”, she cooed as she pointed to his VERY HARD penis.

“Ohhh you have no idea how happy!”, he responded.

“Well! Well! Well! What have we here? Ohhh we have Sam Dalton at my tender mercy…who’da thunk?”, she says as she flashes a devilish smile; while laying on her stomach looking up at both him and his hard dick. Her chin propped up on her knuckles and her legs crossed behind her; with a wicked grin on her face.

“Don’t you dare torture me kitten!”, he hissed.

“Little ole me torture you?! Why I would never do that Mr. Dalton! Even though you deserve it for trying to kill me!”, she replied in a not so innocent tone.

He lets out a low slightly annoyed growl.

“Ooh I love hearing you growl…so sexy!”, she told him.

At this point; his dick was throbbing and she knew it. But she wasn’t done. He was gonna pay for driving her insane. When she rolled onto her back; his jaw clenched and his lips formed a straight line. He was about to lose his mind looking at her. Everything he wanted was in full view.

“See something you like?”, she asked while casually letting her right hand brush over her hard nipple.

“Krystal…”, he hissed.

“That’s kitten to you! Mr. Dalton!”, she snapped back.

His breathing was coming in short ragged pants. She knew he was struggling to hold himself together.

“Kitten…if you aren’t over here in the next 5 seconds…”, he said through his clenched jaw.

“Hmmmm…I guess I can be nice to you, Mr. Dalton.”, she says as climbs off the bed and runs straight into his hungry and desperately waiting arms. He devoured her mouth with every ounce of need, longing, desperation, power and fire he had in him. And she gave it right back to him, tenfold.

“God you are so fucking perfect, kitten!”, he tells her in between exploring her mouth with his tongue.

“Ohh you have no idea how perfect I can be; but trust me Mr. Dalton, you’re about to find out!”, she tells him as she pushes him up against the wall by the flat screen TV.

“Now pay attention Mr. Dalton! Because what I’m about to say is critical! Do you remember the old tootsie pop commercial with the little boy and the old owl?”, she asked with body pressed up against his, teasing him, “I want you to think long and hard; well maybe not as long and hard as you currently are but; you get what I mean. The point is: I want you to think about the question; that the little boy asked the old owl.”, she told him.

“He asked the old owl how many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop. What’s that got to do with anything?”, he asks her.

“It has to do with the fact that; I’m about to find out how many licks it takes to get to the tootsie roll center of your tootsie pop.”, she tells him with a devilish grin. When the realization hits him; his dick goes slightly stiff.

“Krystal you really don’t have to—“, he starts to say before she cuts him off, “ohhh no! No you don’t Sam Dalton! You will NOT take this from me! I earned him! I deserve him! And I’m damn sure gonna get him! The only question is: can the boss keep up?”

With that; she sinks to her knees and is soon face first with his VERY throbbing member. She takes her right thumb, sticks it in her mouth for a split second and begins to circle the tip with it; causing him to jump slightly.

“Fuuuuuuccccckkkkkk! Holy shit! Krystal…”, he hissed; desperately wanting to feel her lips on him. But instead she was gonna take her time; the same way he did with and to her. She continued to just circle the tip; earning groans and moans of both pleasure and torture.

“Kitten…don’t…tease…me!”, he says through ragged breaths.

“Ohhh so you can torture me all you like but the minute I give you a small taste of your own medicine…you can’t handle it? Poor Mr. Dalton…”, she teased him.

“God damn! She’s gonna fucking kill me!”, he thought to himself.

“Well I guess it’s time to answer the question, isn’t it Mr. Dalton?”, she asks him.

“What question?”, he asks while trying to calm his breathing.

“How many licks does it take to get to the center of Mr. Dalton’s tootsie pop?”, she asked in a not so innocent voice. Before he could even utter a word in response; her mouth descended onto him. He was rendered speechless. All he could do was feel her moving against him.

“Yesssssssssss kitten!”, he said in an utterly euphoric tone. She felt so good. Her mouth was warm, wet and totally in control of him. At that moment; he would do anything just to keep her mouth on his dick. She started slow because she wanted to savor this. She wanted him to know what it felt like to be slowly tortured. She wanted him to beg for it, to plead for it, to crave it she wants him to feel for her what she feels for him.

As she increased the speed of her mouths motion; he begged her, “god dammit kitten! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop! That’s it! Like that! That’s what I want! That’s what I need!”

She had him right where she wanted him. At her mercy. His mind racing, his heart pounding, his toes curling him struggling to stay upright. That’s what she wanted. And she was getting it. His hips started to move in time with her mouth as his hands found their way into her hair. He wanted to hold her head in place as she worked him over.

Up and down and up and down and up and down; she went. Never allowing him a reprieve. Never letting him fall over. Ohh honey; she was going to give it to him, the same way that he gave it to her. She always made sure to swirl her tongue just enough from time to time; to hear him blurt out every cuss word known to man.

“Ohhh fuck! Ohhh fuck! Ohh fuck! Ohhhhhhhh shit!! Kitten you feel so fucking good on my dick!”, he moaned. She used her hands to stroke him real good; while her lips stayed on his tip. Just like he loved doing to her; she loved hearing him moan beg, plead and groan. Every so often she’d glance up to watch the sweat beads dripping down his face.

“Well Mr. Dalton; do you like it?”, she cooed.

“Kitten…if you don’t stop now…this party…will be over before it ever gets started!”, he warned her.

“You’re not complaining Mr. Dalton. But; I guess I can go easy on you. Because like you said: this is a party. And I wanna be able to have fun too!”, she replied. Sam breathes an audible sigh of utter relief. Before she finishes; she gives him one last good pump and suck; that makes him shudder and inhale sharply.

“God dammit kitten! You’re gonna pay for this! Who the hell told you to be so fucking good like that?”, he asked.

She merely shrugs and smiles innocently in response. He helps her to her feet; long enough to trap her in his arms with in an all but soul stealing kiss, once she stands up.

“Now! It’s time to get down to business! No games! No more teasing! Tonight; I take you!”, he whispers harshly in her ear before kissing a blazing trail; down her ear and onto her neck. With two literal handfuls of her ass and her legs wrapped his waist; he carried her back to the bed.

“Get ready kitten! I’m about to take you higher than you have ever been.”, he tells her.

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Less yapping! More fucking! Thank you very much!”, she replied.

With a wicked grin on his face; Sam descends on top of Krystal; settling in between her thighs. He circles her entrance, causing her to cry out in anticipation and need.

“Sam…take me please!”, she begged.

That was all he needed to hear from her. He lined his dick up with her entrance, closed his eyes and took the plunge inside her.

“Yesssssssssss!”, she moaned as she felt him fill her up.

“Fuuuucccck yesssssssssss! God damn you feel so good kitten!”, he growled in her ear. She was everything he wanted her to be and more.

I hope you like Part 3! Part 4 and the finale coming soon!

😘

@txemrn @choicesficwriterscreations

K.

#choices #choices fanfiction #choices tna #khoicesbyk #fanfic #pixelberry #sam dalton #choices stories you play #the nanny affair

[writteninsunshine]

Is Anything For Real? - Luxord/Roxas - SFW

Title: Is Anything For Real? Author: Donnie Fandom: Kingdom Hearts Setting: Roxas’ Room Pairing: Luxord/Roxas Characters: Luxord, Roxas, Sora Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Romance Rating: T Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 512 Type of Work: One-Shot Status: Complete Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Age Gap, Roxas is 18, Luxord is 34, Hurt/Comfort, Roxas isn’t okay, Mental Health, Disassociation, Depression, Nightmares and Dreams, Memories, Cuddles, Fluff, Nudity Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. Summary: Roxas was nowhere to be found, but wherever he was, Luxord would find him. AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it’s here: discord.gg/FyaWw25 So… I’m in a bad place, and I always feel Roxas when I’m there. So, I figured I’d write some more LuxRox to get myself to feel better. It’s short but I think it’s good regardless. I hope you guys enjoy it! It does have some heavy pain and Roxas definitely has mental health issues. Please read with caution if you can’t handle such topics. Be kind if you comment, I’m very fragile right now.

Kingdom Hearts Fic Masterlist Is Anything For Real? ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Roxas?” Luxord called, having portaled into the younger man’s room to check on him. He hadn’t seen him all day, and even Saïx had mentioned he hadn’t come for his missions. “Rox?” He tried again, searching the room for him. Hearing something from the bathroom, a soft sob, Luxord knocked on the door before entering.

Roxas sat, huddled in his shower, with the water running cold and his head buried in his knees. Holding himself in position with his arms, he cried softly, confusion and anxiety running rampant in his brain. While it was a little unorthodox, Luxord unzipped his coat and laid it on the sink, pulling off his shirt and pants and leaving his boots beside the toilet. Taking the towel off the rack, he opened the door and turned the water off, gently scooping up the blond with it to hold him close to his chest. After a moment, Roxas looked up, blue eyes vacant and lips parted. Luxord gently dried his hair, letting it become it’s usual bird’s nest in slow parts. He kissed the other’s forehead, nuzzling into his hair with his nose. “It’s going to be okay.” Luxord whispered, “Sometimes things happen, and you’re okay, you’re safe. I’ve got you, now.” Leaning his head against Luxord’s shoulder, he nodded slightly and sighed, resting in his arms and feeling like maybe the world wasn’t falling apart anymore. Being in Luxord’s arms felt natural like he was meant for something, and it helped immensely to be close to the elder man, to be able to smell his scent and feel his strong arms wrapped around him. “I'm so tired... The deep in my bones, brain and arms kind of tired. Everything feels heavy and useless, it's too much effort to even open my eyes. I keep crying but there's no use in it. It does nothing to help, it just makes me feel worse. I keep zoning out and I can't even stop.” Roxas murmured, no passion behind his words, just a flat voice that sounded dead tired. He stared at his bed as Luxord carried him to it, laying them both down and covering them with the blanket. “We can rest, if that is what you want, love.” Luxord told him, “I’m here, now, I have you. You’re safe… You can sleep. I’ll keep the nightmares away.” “It’s… It’s not the nightmares.” Roxas whispered into his chest, nestling further into him, “It’s the dreams. The… The memories Sora has.” He added, “They keep waking me up, and… I can’t rest.” “I’ll be here to chase them away. I’ll kiss you awake and keep you close. Please, just try to sleep for me?” “I… I guess.” He finally acquiesced, closing his heavy eyelids and breathing in deep to accept the other’s scent again, calming considerably with the other holding him so close, so tenderly. “I… Thank you. For being here.” “I’ll always be here for you, whenever you need me. Just call out to me, and I will come.” “Thank you.” Roxas murmured, already drifting off to sleep. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: Welp, that’s it. That’s what I needed, I think, for comfort. I love this ship so much, even if it might be wrong. I hope that it’s okay. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. I’m sorry it’s so short.

#Kingdom Hearts Fanfic #Kingdom Hearts Fanfiction #Kingdom Hearts Luxord #Kingdom Hearts Roxas #Mental Health

[vex-bittys]

Adventures in Baratale: Feelin’ Blue (part 6)

Baratale AU and characters by staxurst.

Contains: NSFW (18+ only), language, explicit sexual content, masturbation, public sex (and masturbation), outdoor sex (and masturbation), 69 (sex position), light spanking, nippleplay, titty-fucking, breastfeeding kink, shower sex, phone sex, dirty talk, praise/body worship, lewdberry, bara lewdberry, he’s sexy sweet and totally in heat

Usually Blue could satisfy his heat with a single long session dedicated to intensive masturbation, but for some reason, ever since he brought you back to your home two days ago (after surreptitiously checking you for any signs of fatigue or injury), his cock ached with desperation to be inside of you again. Even his loosest workout pants couldn’t hide the obvious tenting of his persistent erection, and every time he accidentally brushed himself, visions of you sprang into his mind: your lips, your breasts, your thighs, the way your pussy gripped him when he entered you…

Blue’s continuing heat already indicated an attraction to you, but the way the big skeleton felt went beyond simple carnal desire. He cared about more than your physical features; he adored your kindness, your affection, your radiant smile… stars, everything about you appealed to him, but he had a hard time concentrating on anything except sex with his heat still in full effect. You ended up being extremely understanding about that as well.

“ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS?” Blue’s concerned voice is offset by the fact that he’s currently positioning his phone to maximize the visibility of his throbbing cock on the video chat screen.  Blue strives to be a gentleman (gentlemonster?) in his daily life, so of course you forgive his overeagerness.

You know if you show the slightest hesitation, he will end the call… and possibly spend the rest of his life apologizing, thinking he might have pressured you. Little does he know that just the look of primal hunger in his eyelights is enough to make you swoon for him. You were falling for Blue long before his heat started, but seeing the easily flustered skeleton blossom into suave sexual confidence makes you absolutely salivate.

“Of course I want to help you with your heat, Blue! Besides, it’s not like I’m not getting my own pleasure out of this.” Blue flushes at your words, his already glowing blue cheekbones somehow becoming even brighter. With a jubilant fist pump, you finally manage to clip your phone onto the headboard of your bed, providing Blue with an excellent viewing angle of the lacy bra and barely there thong that you chose for this occasion.

Blue’s gorgeous eyelights- his namesake- dart back and forth, taking in the curve of your breasts, the thin bit of fabric rapidly darkening with your arousal over your pussy, and the line of your spine leading down to your exposed ass. He groans, and you silently congratulate yourself on choosing the perfect lingerie to complement your body type.

“YOU LOOK SO GOOD,” he whimpers, running his thumb over the head of his cock and coming away with a strand of pre-cum. More of the blue-tinged fluid beads at the tip of his shaft.

“Good enough to eat?” you tease, pulling the front of your bra down slightly, almost enough to show your nipples but not quite. Blue pants in anticipation, tightening his grip on his cock. The pre-cum drips onto his comforter. You can tell he wants you badly, but he’s trying to control himself. That won’t last long, you think with a mental smirk.

“AS MUCH AS YOU WANT, ANY TIME YOU WANT.” You wish you could be with him in person, but your schedule is hectic this week, so phone sex will have to suffice. He can make it up to you later. As much as you want, any time you want if his words are to be believed, and Blue is no liar.

“In that case-” You refuse to make Blue wait any longer. Reaching behind your back, you unclasp your bra and let the lacy confinement fall away. Blue’s cock twitches in his hand in response to the sight of your unclothed breasts. He has an obvious fixation, one you’re more than happy to exploit.

You rub your breasts hard enough to lift them up, letting them fall again. Your tits are a far from a ridiculously huge, physics-defying anime rack, but they do bounce a bit. You massage the sides of your breasts, pushing them together, a subtle reminder to Blue that he titty-fucked you mere days ago. You gasp as your hardened nipples catch on your fingertips. Your arousal causes an extreme sensitivity in your nipples that encourages you to keep playing with them… not that Blue complains. He does have some input though.

“H-HUMAN… COULD YOU…. COULD YOU GET ON YOUR HANDS AND KNEES?” he asks with surprising shyness. It’s not an unusual request, so you’re curious why he seems so reluctant to ask. You get on your hands and knees as per his request; your breasts dangle freely with no bra to hold them. “YES… JUST LIKE THAT…” Blue begins to stroke himself, running his hand slowly up and down his cock.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” you encourage him, sensing that perhaps he is about to reveal a kink to you. Blue’s breathing is heavy and loud with excitement.

“YOUR NIPPLES… SQUEEZE THEM… TUG THEM…” he gasps out. Apparently Blue is a very specific type of boob-loving skeleton. You remember the special attention he paid to your nipples in his bedroom. Maybe he’s not a breast guy after all… maybe he’s a nipple guy!

Bracing yourself with one hand, you use your other hand to knead one tit, capturing the nipple between two fingers, squeezing tightly, and tugging it. Blue moans and shudders, the sound so alluring that you throw your own head back and surrender to the pleasure that electrifies every nerve in your body. It feels so good. You switch hands and breasts.

“CAN YOU… SUCK THEM?” Blue asks so softly that at first you think he’s murmuring to himself. It takes a moment to process his request. “PLEASE… MWEH… I HAVE… I HAVE A BREAST-FEEDING KINK… AND IMAGINING YOUR TITS… SO FULL… AND MILKY… AND YOU SUCKING THEM…” Blue babbles frantically. He’s close, and so, so ravenous to finally indulge his secret fantasy. You wish you had some actual milk to pour over yourself.

You rise onto your knees, leaning down as you lift one breast towards your mouth. You extend your tongue and moisten the nipple before guiding it into your mouth, and you watch Blue on the screen out of the corner of your eye. He’s jacking off in earnest, piercing blue eyes locked on you, hand almost a blur as it moves rapidly up and down his shaft.

Humming to send tantalizing vibrations through your nipple, you suckle away, giving your phone camera, and by extension Blue, your most seductive half-lidded expression.A few more sucks, and you release your tit, a string of saliva stretching and breaking between your engorged nipple and your tongue.

You bring your other breast to your lips, lapping that nipple, sucking and releasing it rapidly to show it glistening and darkened from the attention. You might have hickeys on your tits later, but Blue’s urgent gasps of “Mweh… MWEH!” are worth it. You decide to give Blue a coup de grâce, pressing your tits together, and tilting them both towards you mouth. You don’t even touch the nipples to your lips before Blue emits an impassioned cry and cum erupts from his cock, running down his hand in thick, sticky rivulets.

Blue quickly ducks down, going offscreen briefly to retrieve a towel to clean himself off. He wipes the cum from his hands and cock, but you notice that the glowing blue magic of his shaft hasn’t diminished in the slightest. Good…because you still have a surprise to show him. After you tease him a bit, of course.

“Done already?” you chirp, mostly to distract the skeleton while you reach under your pillow for the item that you wanted to surprise him with. You ordered it as soon as you got home after your first night with Blue and paid the extra cost to have it shipped overnight.

“MWEH HEH HEH, OF COURSE NOT, HUMAN! THE MAGNIFICENT SANS HAS ENDLESS SEXUAL STAMINA!” Blue brags, winking at you through the video connection. How does he manage to be so adorable and sexy? Someday you will discover his secret.

“Good. I would hate to let the special toy I bought go to waste.” You reveal your new sex toy to the camera, and Blue rumbles in appreciation of its likeness to his own eagerly twitching shaft. You chose this particular model for its color and size, and you plan to leave a glowing review as you compare it to the real thing on your phone screen. It won’t have the same tingling warmth as Blue’s magic, but it’s the best you’ll get for now.

Laying back on your bed, you carefully remove the last piece of dainty clothing standing between you and complete nudity. Blue mirrors your movement, reclining onto a pile of pillows and slowly stroking himself as he takes in the view. You improve his view by using your fingers to spread your pussy lips. Your folds are hot and wet with arousal, and Blue inhales, loud and deep like he might leap through the phone and take you right then and there.

You moisten the sex toy’s head by rubbing it up and down between your plump pussy lips, parting your folds with the tip of it without dipping it inside of you. Blue trembles with restrained energy, but you plan to take your time, undoing your previous coup de grâce by making him suffer through a long wait for the reward of hearing you scream his name when orgasm wracks your body.

Blue thwarts your plans with a seemingly innocent question asked in a very mischievous tone of voice: “DOES IT VIBRATE?”

“Of course,” you scoff.

“SHOW ME,” Blue says, and you shiver at the undertone of command in his words. If you refuse, he’ll blush and become contrite, but if you obey? If you let him tell you exactly how to masturbate for him on video chat? The mere thought released a fresh gush of arousal from your pussy. You switch the vibrator on, and it makes a whisper soft whirring sound that Blue probably can’t hear.

“HIGHER,” Blue instructs you gruffly. You turn the setting to medium, and the more powerful vibrations make your hand tingle. “NOW TOUCH IT TO YOUR CLIT.” Your eyes widen. Your clit is already swollen and sensitive, and stimulation is going to be overwhelming. Blue is clearly ruthless.

Legs wide, pussy splayed open for your skeleton lover, you bring the vibrator upwards to your clit. Your press down, and pleasure shoots through you like an electric shock. Pressure builds low in your abdomen almost instantly, and your instinct is to move the vibrator away to escape the intensity. Instead, you arch your back and hold your hand steady.

You scream his name when you cum, toes curling and pussy fluttering. You actually squirt from the overwhelming sensation of the orgasm, and Blue chuckles darkly. Panting, you slide the vibrator down your slick slit. Your pussy clenches, demanding to be filled up. Right. Now. You can’t wait for more of Blue’s directions; you’ll go crazy from the crushing ache of emptiness.

The vibrator slips into you easily, and the thickness of the shaft stretches your walls in the most delicious way. Your pussy squelches when you begin to work the vibrator in and out, the sound both lewd and thrilling. You don’t bother holding back your moans, and Blue matches them on his end of the video chat.

“YES… HUMAN… JUST LIKE… THAT,” the skeleton groans as he quickens his pace to match yours. “IMAGINE IT’S ME… FUCKING YOU… FILLING YOUR HOT CUNT… WITH MY COCK… OVER AND OVER.” His words spur you on, and every time you thrust with the sex toy, it hits your most sensitive spots, making your entire pussy reverberate with ecstasy.

The pressure of orgasm is building again, slowly unfurling this time. Your moans turn to whimpers, and you beg Blue for more even though he’s only with you in your imagination. You want him so badly. You want his cock to be inside of you, his hips jerking with each cry of “More!” that falls from your lips. You want to feel him cumming, feel the pulsing of his cock as he empties his entire hot load in your greedy pussy.

“I’M… GONNA-”

“Cum for me!”

Your voices and orgasms crescendo at the same exact moment, and each of you collapses on your respective beds, spent and gasping for breath as the afterglow of the results from your mutual masturbation washes over you. You wish Blue could roll over, tuck your body against his, and hold you, so you pick up your phone and hold it close to your face. Blue’s smiling features fill your screen.

“I THINK MY HEAT MIGHT BE OVER,” he tells you excitedly. You frown. Sex-crazed Blue is actually pretty cute.

“You’ll call me next time though, right?” you ask, worried that this may have been a one time only event. You should’ve known Blue better than that.

“ACTUALLY,” he says hesitantly, rubbing the back of his skull with one hand like he might be a bit embarrassed, “I THOUGHT MAYBE YOU MIGHT LIKE TO GO ON A REGULAR DATE WITH ME BEFORE THEN…”

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#vexy writes #underswap lemon #baratale lemon #bara swap sans #bara us!sans #x reader #female reader #bara us!sans x reader