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semischarmed · 3 years

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Temptation

-Wednesday-

I love him so much. God I love him. And he’ll never know. Maybe it was a curse from a past life or something. To live like this, tantalizingly close to him but unable to act. I knew he didn’t see me that way, but that didn’t help any in my situation.

Take today for instance, he just came back from the gym today soaked in the lingering smell of sweat. It was probably residual perspiration on the clothes he was carrying back or some other thing in his bag. Still. The smell. Goddamn. I could have died and gone to heaven on the spot. I tried to sneak a whiff of Connor, but all I could pick up was whatever soap and cologne he used. It was earthy, woodsy. Like cut cedar and fresh rain. It’s the Connor I always smelled, since he did always keep himself quite clean, and it’s a wonderful scent in its own right, forming the basis of my idea of Connor and the scent I associated with him. But damn. This paled in comparison to the hints of musk and workout sweat I could glean from his clothing. He reeked of pure man and it’s such a shame he covered that up. God I hope he doesn’t do laundry anytime soon.

He must have picked up on something, cause not a moment later I got a “Oh dude! I’m so sorry, this stuff probably reeks haha. I’ll get it washed up so it doesn’t stink up the place” he laughed politely. Fuck.

“Sure, you do you” I stated back, mentally cursing at his propensity for cleanliness.

You’d think the ROTC guys wouldn’t give two fucks about their smell but I guess Connor was an exception. Then again I don’t really know what they did, so maybe it was normal for them. In any case, he definitely did laundry tonight, and I definitely lost out on a good jack off.

-Friday-

So, weird thing happened last night. Connor looked tired as fuck, but he went out. The man must have been running on sheer willpower alone cause he had some kind of training day earlier today too. He collapsed in his room at like 8. Yet there he was an hour later- eyes bloodshot, hair tousled. Maybe he wanted to let loose or something? Still pretty weird. I mean, the guy was practically a saint. It’s odd enough that he went out for drinks, but even odder that he went out dressed like he did. Still I could definitely get used to a more experimental Connor.

He was also a little looser when he came back. Gave me a pat on the shoulder and a wink. Something about “keeping the room safe” or something. I couldn’t concentrate enough to tell what he was actually rambling about. His breath was drenched in alcohol. I feel like I almost got drunk off the fumes alone when he spoke. No surprise when he had no recollection of any of it after he woke up from his nap.

Total guilty pleasure, but the messy look was kind of hot on him. Never seen my friend so disheveled like this, he was always so prim and proper. It’s kind of nice to see him knocked down a few pegs.

-Tuesday-

Connor let out a cute yawn before scratching his pits. He gave his scratching hand a quick sniff before settling into a satisfied smile. My dick jumped a little. I feigned ignorance when he regarded me, asking me if I saw that. “I… uh…no. Definitely not.”

“Sure dude.” Now fully aware of my stare, Connor continued scratching at himself. “You’re seeing this now though, right?” He ran a hand over his stomach, gently feeling through his defined abs. I kept replaying the event in my head, drooling the delight I just witnessed and at a little daydream of me coming up to to feel this new side of Connor with him. In my daze, I barely noticed my roommate inching closer.

Plus, did he seem… bigger? Though I can’t say I’ve ever seen the guy without a shirt on so I guess I just never noticed. Regardless, this version of Connor was fucking hot. Looks like he’s got a tat too. Hot.

“Baby if you’re gonna keep looking, you might as well have a taste.” He laughed warmly. I couldn’t believe what I just heard. In my stunned state, I couldn’t do anything beyond stare at him in disbelief as a vascular hand that seemed larger than it should be guided mine around his perky ass. God what a nice ass. I still recoiled out of the sheer absurdity in the situation. Try as I might, I couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea of this Connor. It’s like he was two different people. Well, I definitely liked this version of my friend more. I’m still drooling over what just happened.

“Another time, then,” he chuckled before walking to his room.

Weird. Connor never really shut his door other than to sleep. Guess he was tired or something.

-Thursday-

Well shit, I totally misread all of that. Today, I thought I saw that same glint of intrigue in his eyes and decided to risk it. Conner was just sitting in his boxers eating cereal and I was just standing there, a few feet behind. I couldn’t help it. My hand instinctively reached out and the cupped the outline of his ass. Perky. It was cute and compact and plump but definitely had a bit of muscle behind it. I regretted the action immediately.

“…The fuck dude?” He gently whispered. It was more bewilderment than anything. Fuck. He was incredulous and I couldn’t blame him. Anger raged inside him, I could tell. But neither of us knew what to do in the situation. We stood there, staring at each other for what felt like hours before I relented.

In shame I could barely stammer out a shameful “s-sorry” before I slunk back to my room, bright red.

I fucked up.

-Monday-

Okay. Scratch everything I just said. Connor is fucking with me. He’s got to be. He strode around the apartment half naked, humming a quiet tune to himself. Sure. Fine, I guess. Whatever. But as soon as he noticed me on the couch working on an essay, he walked over and gave me a hug from behind. Oh my god that hug. Connor was a lean dude, but I swear his muscles were fucking bulging, like they were barely contained in his skin. He wrapped those thick pythons over my shoulders and chest and I just about melted on the spot. I’m pretty sure I moaned a little too. Who wouldn’t? Wrapped in his warm embrace, surrounded by this man- I was his for that moment. I tensed up on the spot. I knew he didn’t swing that way, so I don’t know what he was trying but there was no way I would fall for what I could only assume was some kind of trap.

He spoke in a tone laced in sex. It set me off in a way I didn’t expect. This was a side of Connor I’ve never seen, a tone of Connor I’ve never heard- an experience of Connor I’ve never had. It was a Connor I never knew I needed.

“I’ve seen the way you look at this body. You’re not very subtle.” In the faintest of whispers, he leaned in until his lips were barely touching my ear. My dick was already rock hard in anticipation- I was practically bursting at the seams and I’m sure he had a great view of it. “Just say the word and ‘Connor’ is yours”.

With a control and a willpower I never had before, I refrained from kissing this boy- from putting myself all over him on the spot. I mentally cursed at my friend. ‘What the fuck are you playing at Connor?’

His hot, damp breath caressed my ear in its own embrace as I stood my ground, unmoving like stone. “Got to hand it to you, bro, you put up a really good fight. It’s okay. I love a good fight. Makes victory taste all the more sweeter.” The feel of Connor’s thick, defined fingers running through my hair and wet, slimy tongue across my cheek. He rolled his body forward, so the pulse through his abs would be felt across the back of my neck. From this spot, he was downright imposing. His guns went in for another caress- this time wrapping across my cheeks and around my chin.

“You know I love you bro… This body’s straight as an arrow. But it’s my body- I’ll go gay for you if you want”. What the fuck. Oh god I got a bit of his sweat on my cheek too. My eyes fluttered, body entrapped in a spell of my own hormones reacting to my friend’s advances.

Connor broke me. I shivered on the spot, leaned up to the man, moaned an “Oh fuck…Connor I-I need you. I-” before he cut me off. “Well bro, kind of looks like you still got some work today- you have fun with that.” He laughed coldly. He was fucking with me.

That whole exchange was really fucking weird, cause just a few hours later, it was back to pure awkward silence between us. Like a flip of a switch, the every energy he exuded around me could only be described as “uncomfortable”. I wanted to talk to him, to speak with him about earlier, to tell him I wanted him the same way. Something about those eyes read differently though. They read the same Connor I had been used to until recently. I decided to hold my tongue. Something about this situation wasn’t adding up.

Also I’m pretty sure this kid needs to see a doctor or something. I swear the guy doesn’t sleep- he’s out every night and then I see his tired ass drag himself to class every morning. Rushing a frat? Weird drugs? Could have been a host of things.

-Tuesday-

Now 4 days since the incident last week. Thankfully he hasn’t brought it up- nor has he brought up whatever the fuck yesterday was. If it was even real. I sweat and stumble over my sentences in every conversation I make with him. I flash back to what he said to me. God, this was all too much. Every time I try to focus myself, focus on whatever he was talking to me about, I couldn’t help but think of the Connor that visited me yesterday night.

Maybe, maybe it was just a hallucination. Maybe I dreamed it all up. I was working on an essay for hours. The whole encounter could have easily been a dream. He’s been going out every night too, so it’s not like he could have been speaking to me that coherently. Still. That didn’t make it any better. Whether or not he knew it, Connor was a demon in my life.

I shamefully admit I totally jacked off to that little exchange from yesterday after he left. Grabbed some used Connor-scented garments off his hamper and exploded all over myself in a Connor-themed session. Nothing like the exquisite gym-soaked clothes from a week ago, but it was enough. It was still Connor. My eyes rolled up to the back of my head in pleasure as I took a breath, basking in the afterglow and the scent of forest and earth and faintest lingering musk of Connor in my nose. Connor was everything to me and, hallucination or not, I committed yesterday’s events to memory.

-Still Tuesday-

Shitshitshit. Definitely not a dream. I caught the son of a bitch. In the dead of night, I caught him sneaking in from a dark corner of the room. Like a figure manifest from the shadows itself. He was holding some silver figurine in his hand, reciting some odd words, before he lunged at the sleeping Connor. He gave my roommate a quick sniff before scoffing. “Bro you have to stop cleaning all your nice smells away… With that the stranger pulled at the corners of Connor’s mouth. I watched as my roommate’s skin was forced to accommodate the man’s muscular calves.

I watched as the stranger pulled Connor every further up himself. Damn, even in the dark I could tell the man was ripped. When his head finally slotted into where Connor’s skull would be, and Connor’s face was stretched being pulled, I saw the immediate change in my friend’s demeanor. This was the guy who’s been fucking with me recently. This was why Connor looked so buff lately. I couldn’t see the man who jumped inside my best friend, but I could never wipe that smug smile he wore through Connor’s face.

The smell that originated from inside Connor, the same smell I experienced a week ago. God I loved that scent. It permeated throughout the room. Best friend concentrate. Like a humid, musky, grime that clung to the very air and decorated my nostrils. I never wanted his scent out of me again. I felt like I was inhaling Connor himself, regarding a newly discovered private part of my friend.

My stomach churned in a mix of anticipation and horror. Sweat beaded at my temples. Gotta admit, this was kind of hot. I had to figure out what I was gonna do about this. Self-preservation kicked in and I fled to my room, taking special attention to ensure I did not alert the man inside Connor. Not like he’d notice anyways- dude was feeling himself up almost immediately after he slipped inside.

-Wednesday-

It’s like clockwork at this point. The “other” Connor came back early in the morning from a wild night out, before passing out on our couch as I was finally able to speak with my friend. Impossibly tired eyes looked back at me. He gave a weak grimace. “Must have passed out again….Uh.. can I help you man?” My heart sank. Could I really tell him this? My poor roommate. “No, uh.. do you want any breakfast?”.

I could tell he had meant to say yes. He motioned as much, before staring at my face and turning away. Fuck. He was definitely still put off by last week’s advance. I honestly don’t blame him. “N-no. I got it. Thanks.”

I grimaced awkwardly before shrugging and walking to fix myself some breakfast. This would complicate things. And I couldn’t do that to Connor. I needed to find a way to fix this without him knowing. Evidently, his body being used and worn out like an evening jacket was taking its toll on him. Despite whatever we were going through, he was still my friend. And I couldn’t in good faith add more to that burden.

“Hey, one of the guys from the gym’s coming over for dinner, that cool?”

“Yeah man, I’ll just order some extra pizza,” I said back, sighing internally in relief at some semblance of normalcy.

-Still Wednesday -

I met Connor’s gym friend. To be honest, already forgot his name. He gave me a wink when he shook my hand and I couldn’t stop staring all dinner. I think even Connor picked up on it. He looked almost jealous with all the attention I usually gave him being directed at the stranger. The stranger asked to use the bathroom, and I wanted to let him know how to get to it, but he seemed to already know the path.

“Hey bro, is it cool if I stay the night?“ I nodded automatically, lost in deep thought.

There’s something peculiar about the Connor’s gym friend. And I didn’t notice it until I was already in bed. Then hit me like a brick.

That fucking smirk.

-End-

If anyone knows who this guy is, please let me know… for.. uh.. research purposes.

#male skin suit #male control #male transformation

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

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rock and roll and leather skirts.

pairing: rockstar!sebastian stan x writer!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (18+), slight breeding and choking kink

a/n: i just really love returning to this pairing. enjoy xx

It was torture.

Sebastian was sure that the way his wife looked in the crowd was nothing but torture designed to ensure he had a hard on for the whole of the show. He just couldn’t help it. How could he when she was dancing in the front row in nothing but the skinniest pair of heels, a thin strap black top and the tightest leather skirt ever designed by man. Adding to all of that, he hadn’t seen her in the past three months, stuck on an European tour his wife couldn’t accompany him on, thus he felt like he was three seconds away from pulling her on stage and having his way with her. He just couldn’t help it, his eyes couldn’t leave her. She was almost like his very own rock muse, a nymph tempting him with flowing locks as she danced to his music and soft skin illuminated by the bright halcyon light. He could hear unwritten music whenever he looked at her and god if he couldn’t help to hear the music that would come out of her scarlet tinted lips when he got his hands on her.

The set seemed to last forever and while he adored his job and adored to play a sold out stadium, he loved to watch his wife squirm under him. As the last chord played, he was out the stadium, finding the first water bottle to throw over himself before the next morning headliner became his and his raging hard on, which he guessed wouldn’t be the first time that happened. Pushing his hair away from his face, he saw her strut backstage, the red backstage pass resting against her breasts. God damn it, that woman would be the reason he’d someday get caught and arrested for public indecency. She smiled with a grace that was so typically hers, wrapping her arms around him before leaning over to kiss him.

How in the heck had he even scored her? He still looked like a crazy man, with messy hair and tattoos he regretted scattered all over him and she, god, she was fantastic. He could never write enough love songs about it and he couldn’t even write enough songs at how fucking good that skirt looked on her. He interrupted the kiss himself to look at her, at how fucking delectable she was even after all these yers. Of course, she now hated him less than when she first met him.

- Baby, that fucking skirt ... - his hand sneaked up to her ass, cupping it shamelessly as if there wasn’t staff or any of his bandmates around.

- I missed you too. - she teased, her hands warm against his shirtless shoulders. His fingers traced her arm, lips ghosting over her shoulder and up her neck, just below her ear. - Seb, the boys ...

- Shouldn’t have worn that skirt then, baby bunny. - he nibbled the soft skin under her ear, hard enough to leave a mark so the dad who always sized her up at school drop offs would know he was back in town. - Fuck, you come here after I haven’t seen you for months dressed like every rocker’s wet dream.

- I wanted to look good for you. - she flushed under his gaze.

Fuck, she couldn’t look any sweeter with her little hot cheeks and watery eyes as if they hadn’t been married for 5 years and trying and testing both his and her fantasies; however, this skirt seemed to do it for him. He could feel his trousers tighten just thinking about it and those heels making her legs so long did not help either. His hand cupped her thigh, pushing it to hook against his own leg as he kissed her neck, sensing the nice soft flower scent from her perfume. God, he fucking missed her.

- You’re gonna let me fuck you, baby? - he whispered against her ear, breathy laugh escaping as he heard that soft little moan she wanted to hide from him finally materialise. - Hm? You want me to fuck you silly backstage? You want it, bunny baby?

- Seb ... - she whined her eyes gazing the set around her, worried anyone was watching but everyone mostly ignored it. It was a rock concert backstage, sex was as ordinary as clouds in the sky. - Seb, the people ...

- Aw bunny baby ... - he pinched her chin, pulling it up so she was looking at his eyes, his blue eyes which were now midnight blue clouded by lust. - Don’t worry, don’t want any fucking roadie getting any ideas.

She didn’t even know what to say, instead nodding as she herself started to get uncomfortable with not being flushed to him. He hoisted her up, his hands gripping her waist as he made his way into the first room he could find. It didn’t matter where they were, if he couldn’t be inside her, he felt like he was going to explode. He pinned her against the door, his hands travelling and roaming her body while he kissed her neck and pulse, lightly bitting onto her skin as if he wanted to claim her. He wanted to claim her.

- Looking all sinful on the front row. - he growled recalling that view from the stage. - Getting all those stupid boys with their girlfriends all fired up. Raising their hopes up ...

- I’m not. - she moaned as he bite harshly on her neck.

- You’re mine. - his voice was strained, partly from singing, partly from pure jealousy. He normally kept it under wraps yet she couldn’t help but feel attracted to it whenever he acted possessive about her. His lips crashed against hers, hands pushing her skirt off and onto the floor, causing a bit of tear to the fabric. Not that any of them minded. - I’ll fucking prove to you just how much you’re mine.

- Please. - she begged, parting her legs for her generous lover. However, he was not in the mood for gentleness. As her hands travelled up his chest, feeling every ripple of his skin, he caged and trapped her hands above her head, mockingly smiling as she looked at him confused.

- Aren’t you pretty? - he mocked her, tongue licking his lips as he observed her chest raise up and down. - So fucking pretty, baby. Wanna know what it felt like seeing you and not being able to do anything?

His distance from her didn’t last long enough, he was back on her like a wolf. He wanted to bask on her scent, lips climbing up from her neck to her lips in slow, desperate motions. She whined wantonly, wanting to be freed from his grip to touch him, try to undress him, anything, but he didn’t allow her. No, Sebastian liked control and he was going to remain holding power over it. Pulling her underwear to the middle of her legs, he started to torture her sex, his fingers slowly thrusting in and out of her heat. Her chest rose up and down in slower motions, head trashing from side to side as she tried to deal with how his feeling felt dragging against her walls. God, he could make that vision the cover of his next album. Her breathe was rapid and uncontrolled, hands and fingers tensing as she felt her abdomen tighten up only to loosen up as he took his fingers off her heat. She looked at him betrayed and upset but he only smiled, bringing his fingers to his lips, licking them in sin.

- Felt like that. - he almost mocked her state, proud he had gotten his satisfaction but that wasn’t enough. Looking at her only fired her up even more. He let go of her hands, both of his hands cupping her face to kiss her fervently and harshly as if she was going to disappear. Her nails dragged up his back, leaving marks which were sure to make her proud until they reached his leather trousers. She quickly made way of unbuttoning them, trying to push it down but her slowness saw him help her out.

He guided the head of his cock towards her folds before he quickly sheathed himself inside her heat. He growled, eyes rolling as he seemed to find himself in his personal eden the more he buried himself in her. Her hands pulled at him, holding him closed as he reached a hilt. His lips quickly founds hers as he started to thrust in and out of her slowly and filed with wanton. Her moans were musical and breathy, her walls contracted around him almost in sync and he swore he could die happy like this.

- Fuck, baby. Had forgotten how good you fucking felt around me. - he spoke through wet kisses, his hands slowly guiding her hip movements. - Aren’t you a fucking minx? My own little sex muse.

- Seb, please. - her nails buried onto the skin of his back, trying to quicken her movements. He wanted to go fast, rough, ignore her pleasure and merely take his but how could he when she looked so delectable, so sweet begging for him. - Please.

- Oh, baby ... - he growled out, hand holding her neck against the door as he snapped his hips forward. She broke on in a long moan as his cock dragged in and out of her wall, mixing with the lewd sounds of his skin hitting hers. Her breathe struggled to recover, shaky from the sheer pleasure of him snapping his hips in and out of her without a care and from his grip on her neck. Her hands gripped at his body as he continued his assault on her cunt, lips sometimes stealing dirty, messy kisses from her, drinking from her lips. - Are you gonna let me cum inside of you, bunny baby? Have you dripping with my cum as you step outside? Huh? You gonna let me?

- Please. - she moaned pathetically, no longer caring how she’d look once she stepped outside. He smiled through the kiss, hand leaving her neck to toy with her clit, the other helping him pull himself in and out of her in almost animal movements. He wanted it, he wanted her to fall apart, he wanted the world to know she was his. His moves grew uncontrollable and out of pace until his hips jerked still, a dirty, raspy moan leaving the rocker’s mouth as ropes and ropes of white cum painted her walls, some of it slightly trickling down her leg.

She held herself against him, trying to hold her legs up despite how trembly they felt. He panted through a smile, looking down to bask in another one of her kisses, holding her against him before she could fall. The two collapsed onto a nearby couch, her half naked body flushed against his as both tried to regain some sense of regular breathing.

- Three months is too long, baby bun.

- I know. - she rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him with a mischievous little smile.

- Sex’s incredible though. - he stole a playful kiss from her. - I might just put your moans in a song one day.

- Don’t you dare. - she herself peppered kisses onto his lips, jokingly pointed her finger at him.

- Fucking love you, baby. Fucking love you.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #rockstar! sebastian stan

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sleephyjhs · 3 years

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When You’re Expecting (Taehyung Headcanon)

pairing: taehyung x pregnant!reader

warnings: mention of fertility & pregnancy complications

note: i’ve been craving to write a bts x pregnancy series for a while so here we go !! if there’s a specific member you’d like to see next, shoot me an ask :)

m.list

FINDING OUT

even before finding out you were pregnant, you both had so much love for your child

there was nothing either of you could have wanted more than a baby

it was always at the forefront of your mind how much you wanted a little human of your own

it was approaching a year since you began trying seriously

a few false hopes and two miscarriages later, fertility drugs were looking to improve the chances of conceiving

the raging hormones which came with the drugs were all worth the positive test

early september - sickness had hung around your throat for days

headaches lasted longer than usual, and crying at the most mundane things had become an unwelcome habit

in the bathroom cabinet, you’d collected a small stockpile of electronic and stick pregnancy tests

one of them would eventually show positive, right?

taehyung sat on the bathroom tiles with you

waiting two minutes felt closer to waiting two months

he crossed his legs, bouncing his knees impatiently

your knees came to your chin; high hopes weighed heavily on your heart

the alarm set on his phone beeped quietly

your heartbeat rose suddenly to your throat

taehyung reached out for your hand as you turned to read the results

two blue lines - as clear as day

they became less clear as your eyes coated with thick, salty tears

he began to chuckle as his happiness trickled down his cheeks

“we did it baby! we’re gonna have a baby!” he whispered, choked up by his own anticipation

no words were left swirling in your mind

your jaw hung open as though the hinges were faulty

shakily, you lifted the electronic test to triple check

pregnant.

as you crashed into taehyung’s open arms, memories of the past loomed in your mind

it was only inevitable

a positive test was a familiar joy to you both

however this familiar joy had only ever been followed by crippling devastation

as much as you tried not to think about it, you couldn’t help but retain maternal caution

however, this time also felt different

taehyung’s spirit, your spirit - it was as though fate didn’t want to disappoint you any more

someone out there decided it was finally your time to grow a mini human to bring into the world

of course, no time was wasted in contacting the maternity clinic

seeing your baby on a screen was now a top priority

just to see their little head, maybe even hear their heartbeat

just to know they were okay

just to know you were keeping them cosy and safe, that’s all you needed

taehyung couldn’t hold his excitement

from leaving the house to reaching the hospital, his toothy grin never wiped from his cheeks

he never said anything at the time since his main focus was always on comforting you

but losing his babies near enough tore him apart

even when you tried to comfort him, taehyung restricted himself just to protect your wellbeing

of course, the worse had already crossed his mind

but it wouldn’t get the better of him

it couldn’t.

you soon learned you were already 6 weeks pregnant

the midwife had to point out where your little baby was hanging out; they were such a tiny thing after all

briefly, you took the opportunity to hear their heartbeat

it was faint over the machine, but fast

there really was a life within you.

“there’s something else, if you just look over here...” the midwife prompted, turning the monitor so you could grasp a better view

taehyung leaned slightly over your chest to peer closely at the smaller monochrome screen

with the mouse, she circled a second bean shaped figure

“the fertility drugs increase the chance of twins. looks like you guys got lucky!”

twins. you were having twins.

THE PREGNANCY

like with most pregnancies, you were advised to wait until the 12 week milestone to begin announcing your impending delivery

and even though he understood the importance of patience right now, taehyung could hardly contain his excitement

it didn’t help that a little bump had already begun to grow

keeping a secret was much more difficult when the evidence was near impossible to hide

already, taehyung spent early mornings talking to his little angels

telling them stories he seemingly made up on the spot

or even borrowing some from his own childhood

“you know they can’t hear you yet? it’s about 7 weeks until they’ll be able to, honey.”

“i know, i’m just practising for when they can.”

of course, you wouldn’t admit that you did the same when you were alone

you attended more midwife appointments than other expectant mothers might

the pair of you much preferred being on the safer side

in the car, when on a quieter, less congested road, taehyung often reached over to cradle your still-growing bump with a free hand

you slotted your fingertips between his for additional sappiness

“you two have so many people waiting for you here, hmm? many people are already so in love with you both. me and mummy included.”

on a sleepless night, you’d made a small pact with tae

it was a rash decision, but sincere nonetheless

“no matter what, they are always going to know how wanted they were. always.”

taehyung hardly needed reminding of this, but it was still a weight off your shoulders

as you tried to conceive, the pregnancy diet had already been implemented into your daily routines

however now that you were carrying two precious babies, there really would be no more ‘cheat’ days for you

no more extra half cups of coffee on slower mornings

although you usually took over the role of head chef in the house, taehyung dedicated extra effort into preparing you both healthy and yummy foods

sautéd rice with green vegetables and lean meat/tofu appeared to be his go-to

but you still opted to supervise just in case

finally being able to announce your pregnancy was another heavy weight lifted from your mind

the other members were over the moon for you both

particularly when they reminded themselves of the struggles you had experienced previously

and also remembering the utter devastation of their taehyung when he had to break it to them

all of them kept their eye out for little gifts and outfits

each week, taehyung came home with a new stack of pale rompers or neutral-tones teething toys

these babies would have the best uncles; at least that much you could be certain of

announcing your pregnancy on social media was a looming task, but one he was determined to pull off perfectly

for filler content between schedules, the members had been asked to film a 5 minute vlog of their daily life

well, what a perfect opportunity!

towards the end, taehyung made sure to include some shots of your now protruding bump overlaid with some more vintage camera settings

safe to say, that day you had broken the internet

love, congratulations and blessings poured in from every corner of the earth

a few comments complimenting how much pregnancy suited you touched you especially

self image is commonly effected by the progression of pregnancy, and you were no exception to that

although it was amazing how your body grew and made a little home for your tiny babies, it was still quite strange to see yourself changing so quickly

your favourite clothes didn’t fit around your doubled bump anymore

and your skin seemed to hate sharing nutrients with two extra people

but for the days where you struggled to love yourself, taehyung easily filled in the gaps for you

sneaking up behind you in the bathroom

(although the mirror kinda gave him away)

he’d wrap his arms around your just-moisturised bump and carefully rest his chin on your shoulder

“tell me all your worries honey.”

you gushed over how much you missed wearing your favourite jackets

and how strange it was to look at yourself in such a new and confusing way

“i know it’s normal, and i know i have to do it for them. but i guess it’s just weird - i don’t look like myself anymore”

he sighed and planted a kiss on a spot of bare skin

those small kisses still tickled you like they always had

“well, you definitely look different,”

you really hoped there was a second part to that sentence, mostly for tae’s own good

“but why does that have to be bad? not gonna lie, it actually kinda makes you hotter. maybe we should make babies more often!”

“make~?”

LABOUR AND DELIVERY

originally, you had wanted to try and stick to the natural route for as long as you could

but after a few contractions, that idea was immediately out of the window

to help steady yourself and wait out the pain, you held onto the kitchen island and swayed to your own pace

eventually, taehyung joined you

copying the same movements while timing your contractions

“they really must be desperate to come out, huh?”

“well do you think they could hurry it up a bit?!”

the pair of you had been prepared for this for over a month

the hospital bag was ready by the door with all of your essentials packed tightly inside

not forgetting the pots of instant ramen taehyung insisted he must bring in case of an emergency

just as he was readying to back out of the driveway, taehyung took a mental stock check of everything packed in the back

“do you think we have everything?”

“i love you but stop talking please.”

thankfully, he understood well that the sheer pain made you cranky

so long as he assured himself that it was ‘just the contractions’, he’d be just fine

as much as he couldn’t wait to announce he was about to become a father to everyone, he kept himself grounded when walking you to the maternity ward

one corridor in and you’d suggested that a wheelchair might be a better mode of transport

breathlessness and contractions didn’t sound like a favourable mix to you

the assessment of your fast dilation granted you an immediate spot in the labour ward

you’d picked this suite specially due to its expansive space

the option of a birthing pool was still available if you so needed it, but the mood lighting and access to aromatherapy was what attracted you to the room in the first place

a serene paradise for your angels to be born into

it was perfect

taehyung explored while you adjusted to your new surroundings

of course, it didn’t take him long to find the birthing ball

“what’s the difference between a yoga ball and a birthing ball?”

there obviously was none, but you took a few seconds to try and be smart with him

“well, sit on that and you might have a baby the size of a watermelon come out of you soon.”

taehyung cradled his torso and pulled a shocked expression, which was enough to make you giggle and cause another contraction

less than a few hours passed, and you had already attempted to scream the building down once or twice

“get these babies out of me. no i’m serious, i need them out.”

realising your deadpan expression, taehyung soon attended to you at the head of your bed

stroking your slightly sweaty head and patting a ice cold flannel on your clammy forehead

he braced himself for a crushing hand grip which came about sooner than he’d prepared for

you weren’t the biggest fan of commotion, and so being surrounded by nurses and doctors was close to being your worst nightmare

taehyung focused his voice into your ear, trying to minimise the tension coming from below your pelvis

his motivational words were broken up by short bursts of pushes

many of which were followed by a string of curse words which just slipped out

and then, there it was.

the first piercing cry belted across the room

a tear or two may have happened to slip from your eyes

finally the moment you’d waited for, nearly two years in the making, was here

the first of two, a little girl who already had a head full of the most luscious black hair

taehyung wanted to hold back his happy tears in order to show some kind of strength

but you and him both knew he’d never hold it back for long

within the space of 4 minutes, the second baby was born into the world.

but this time, there was no immediate cry

the whole world seemed to slow down in that moment as you waited

and waited

midwifes gathered around the new infant, looking for any kind of obstruction

but, soon enough, your son said his first hello to the world

#taehyung #kim taehyung #bts #bts taehyung #bts v #bangtan #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts one shot #bts drabble #bts headcanon #bts mtl #bts imagine #bts reaction #bts pregnancy #taehyung dad #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #taehyung pregnancy

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cinnamonest · 3 years

Text

Kaeya Alberich - Yandere Profile

YES I love my eyepatch boy!! I really like him as a yandere, because he's definitely got several traits and behaviors that would make him a very unconventional/different yet absolutely terrifying one to have. Him or Diluc as your yandere is basically like playing a game on maximum difficulty. He's so arrogant dammit why does he have to make it hot

More importantly, someone take the ability to write n/sfw away from me I s2g... I go from trying to make serious content to nasty weird kinks and completely feral in .002 seconds the moment I add that readmore

tws: gaslighting, manipulation, yandere, mentions of mutilation

tws (below cut): noncon, a good deal of sadism, mentions of an*l

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

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's actually one of the worst yanderes you could have in almost every regard, for two very simple reasons: his crippling psychological issues, and his intense selfishness. The first manifests as severe abandonment issues. It's the origin of his unhealthy feelings, most likely. Kaeya doesn't like the instability of people - based on his backstory, people always leave, or die, and even if they don't intend to, somehow it feels like abandonment, and he resents it. People leave him all alone and afraid and uncertain. That's generally all he knows, and despite the smug exterior, he's actually pushed people away quite a bit, keeps everyone at arm's length to ensure they can't become someone too important for him to accept their sudden absence. He can't care about someone, because that someone is fated to inevitably leave him, no matter who it may be.

That's why, once you manage to worm your way into his feelings and heart despite his best efforts, once he finally caves to acknowledging the feeling, he's aware. Painfully aware, because be can't stop worrying every waking moment about you, your well-being, your location. It reaches a point where he can't go about his job because he's simply too consumed with his worry.

The solution that kept him safest in the past was to avoid developing emotional attachments, but when he does, he's terrified of both your safety AND you intentionally abandoning him. Really, the latter would hurt worse, since he can't fault you for dying, but to abandon him? It would break him.

And, to some extent, he's developed a lot of prideful anger about it, deep, deep down. He feels that he doesn't deserve to be abandoned, doesn't deserve to just be left behind under the guise of some greater purpose, and he'll be damned if he just lets you toss him aside like he feels others did. Even if you reject him, he won't accept it. You don't get to reject him. He won't allow that. What has he ever done to deserve everything that's happened to him? Nothing. You're the one person who has stayed with him, and you're going to continue to be with him. Forever.

That being said, he's still somewhat confident because he's got that arrogance about him. He doesn't perceive rejection, because he's always gotten a lot of attention for his looks, even if he's never actually followed through on anyone else's attention out of those same fears. He'll write off any perceived rejection as being for some other reason, something besides an actual rejection, and he'll seek to eliminate whatever he feels is keeping you from just accepting him.

Honestly, one of the most likely to have a full blown, classic-yandere-style psychotic breakdown. He can be driven to a snapping point, if there's enough stress or obstacles, and in case of that, he'll be a lot more willing to kill, and a lot more willing to hurt you, but it's a point that would still take a lot to reach.

But what's really terrifying about Kaeya is his delusions, primarily his ability to mentally justify everything he does without hesitation. Even most delusional yanderes struggle - they feel like it's wrong, they know it is deep down, and they take time to convince themselves of their delusions, tell themselves it's ok over and over, beg for reassurance, and get defensive when called out because they know they're in the wrong. The same isn't true for Kaeya. He automatically justifies his actions by default, and has absolutely zero doubt or hesitation to do so. He doesn't even need a complex reason for justification - it's a simple one. He deserves what he wants. Anything necessary to achieve that is fair.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Highly likely and very quickly, right up there with Diluc and Razor. And he's absolutely remorseless about it. It ties back into his delusional state and ability to justify anything he does - this is what's best for you. If you don't get that, that's your problem, not his.

He's another one to not want to pull some barbaric move like knocking you out, rather, he'd rather just trick you into walking right into your new home. He gets that you'll be upset about it, but to him, that's just part of the process. Not that he'll tolerate it for too long. 12, maybe 24 hours is enough time for you to reasonably be upset, but if you're still trying to fight him on this after that, he's going to get snappy about it, thinking you should already be over that by now.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

You're not leaving.

It's not worth trying, really. How he manages to do it is a mystery to you, but he'll manage to keep you locked in right there at the headquarters with him. How Jean and Lisa haven't found out about you being there, how he convinced all of his guards to be on his side of things, you have no idea. Realistically, if you get out, he's likely to make you out to be some kind of criminal that needs to be found -- just not to hurt you in any way, so goes the order, and the knights know better than to question why.

He has eyes and ears everywhere, it won't take them anytime at all to find you. He's so confident in that, and combined with his pride, he doesn't feel the need to go get you himself. No, it's a lot more satisfying to sit back and watch as they drag you through the doors of the headquarters, slowly pull you to the end of the room and drop you down at his feet, where he can look down on you with that closed-eyed, artificially wide smile that tells you that you have seriously fucked up.

Escape attempts aren't going to be met with a single shred of mercy, really. The thing about Kaeya is he's ultimately a selfish, selfish bastard with a lot of deep-seeded, highly repressed emotional issues, and he has absolutely no problem with keeping you bound hand and foot, or maybe even make some permanent modifications to your body if that's what it takes to keep you. It's not a wise idea to even try unless you're absolutely certain to succeed, otherwise you may find yourself never getting the opportunity again. You don't really need those Achilles tendons intact, you know. And your ankle bones are just so fragile, they'll snap with just a little twist. Actually, that wouldn't be too bad, giving you more reasons to be grateful when he's doing everything for you.

He's not one to just let it go, either. No, escape attempts are the one unforgivable thing for him, the one thing that will make him totally and completely snap. You don't get to do that. You're the one thing that doesn't get to just disappear out of his life in a flash. Half the reason he sends the knights to get you rather than going himself is to give him some time to let the rage settle down, otherwise he knows he might not be able to control himself and might end up hurting you even worse than he intends to. He's not going to buy any excuses and won't go any lighter on you if you beg and grovel or anything. But you will apologize -- you get to choose how hard it is. You can apologize the easy way, or, if you don't want to, there are many ways to force it out. But by the end, he'll get an apology, and a promise to never try again, out of you, no matter what that takes. It's by far the worst state you'll ever see him in, and really, once is enough to dissuade you from trying again.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

You'd have to try pretty hard. He doesn't have the sheer amount of years of life experience like Venti or Zhongli, but he's not the captain for no reason - he's perceptive, and highly intelligent.

Rather than simply mastering reading human voice and facial expressions for telltale signs of deceit, he's good at learning individuals in particular - memorizing the patterns of thought and action of a particular individual, and predicting how they will act. He can do it with everyone else with ease, how much more, then, with the object of an obsession? If you're trying to formulate some plan to trick him, he'll already predict what you'll do, if you lie, he already knows. It's creepier than the others, really, because it's not just that he can tell when you're lying, but rather he already knows you're going to lie or try some scheme before you do it. It feels so tailored and personalized to your thought patterns, it almost feels like an invasion of the privacy of your mind, which, really, is the one privacy you thought you had left.

He's great at gaslighting himself, too. He's a very good liar, and can make you believe anything he wants. He'll target your fears and paranoias, make you believe you're going crazy, and he'll do it all so perfectly you'll never suspect a thing. You'll end up coming to him for protection and guidance, exactly as planned.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Pretty strict. He doesn't let you have any outside contact, and you're limited on what you can do when he's gone. He'll bring you some books, maybe something to draw on -- no sharp writing utensils, though. In his mind, that should be enough to occupy you.

You won't get outside walks or visits. It's just too risky for him, and he really doesn't like seeing other people look at you. If you really, really beg, and you've been on amazing behavior, and you're well into your relationship, maybe a few months or so, there's a chance he'll take you out at nighttime, or sunrise, but at the slightest sign of intentions he doesn't like, you'll be dragged back, and you won't see the sun for a long time.

You'll have a very limited wardrobe, he doesn't see why you even need to wear anything, but if you're going to be stubborn, he can get you something simple, like an old shirt and some underwear, but that's about all you can have. Any requests for actual clothing are going to be denied. It's ridiculous for him to spend money on something you don't need, and besides, he prefers it this way, y'know?

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Generally, it's a simple one: obey. You do what he tells you to do, and you don't do something if he tells you not to. This stems to similar rules that develop: be submissive, don't be argumentative, don't be defiant. Follow those, and you can both be happy, and that's what you want, isn't it? It had better be - he's not very lenient, and will harshly punish even small offenses. As for that punishment... most of it isn't going to be sfw. That's just how he is.

What he will do is emotionally manipulate you, and he's rather good at it. You wanted to escape? Ok. He'll let you have your way, let you be alone. All alone. All by yourself, in a little room, with no one at all, which is exactly how you would have left him, had you succeeded. He knows very well how that kind of loneliness bites. He's not totally cruel, though, and he won't withhold affection from you by the time he returns -- he doesn't need to, you'll already be crying and apologizing, which is exactly what he hoped for. Not that he won't briefly mock you for it.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're crying like that because you actually missed me. Oh, you did? Being all alone isn't particularly fun, now is it? I'm sure you understand that now."

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Kaeya's an insanely jealous person. It doesn't show on his face, but it eats at him internally. It doesn't matter if it's a love interest, a platonic friend, even a family member. It's all the same -- people who want to take your attention away from him, people who you smile at that aren't him, people you love that aren't him. He's not one to delude himself into thinking everyone secretly loves you romantically, rather, it doesn't matter. Romantic interests are the worst threat, sure, but friends and family aren't much better.

He sees himself as above killing, though. He has people to do that for him, and he likes knowing that he has that much power. He's not going to dirty his hands with it, and frankly, they're not even worthy of his time and effort to kill them. Knights and other connections can take care of it just as well.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

As somewhat previously discussed, the primary form of making him mad is attempting an escape. That's on a whole new level of anger because it strikes at a very deep, wounding insecurity. On a normal day, though, he's more easily exasperated than angry. He gets frustrated somewhat easily, especially if you're trying exceptionally hard to be a brat. He has very clear warning signs. His signature little smirk drops, he gets quiet, he balls his hands into fists and digs his fingernails into his palms. At that stage, he's irritable and might snap at you, but won't get too angry until you ignore those signs and push it.

If you do push him, though, he gets genuinely mad, which is a very quiet anger at first -- he doesn't talk much when he's mad. He acts. You'll know he's snapped when he puts down whatever he's doing, and just silently stomps over to you, face completely empty and flat, looking down at you with a cold expression. It's enough to put fear in you, but at that point, even if you apologize, you're not getting out of whatever he's planned.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Strongly in the "below" camp, a rather unusual stance for a yandere. Like many things with him, there's an inexplicable duality going on there. You would think that if you loved someone so strongly you'd kidnap them, kill for them, and potentially suffer consequences just to have them, that you would really think highly of them. On the flip side, you would think that if you really saw someone as lowly, you wouldn't care for them, you'd see them as disposable.

But neither is true for Kaeya, no, he balances both obsessive love and complete narcissism regarding you. You're not disposable, no, he can't live without you, he needs you. But at the same time, you're not gonna be on any kind of pedestal. No, if anything, he sees himself on one, more like a throne, and you on the floor before him, how things should be.

He has a similar mindset to Zhongli or Albedo - you're fragile, you're dumb, you're incapable, and you need someone to care for you, protect you, guide you, someone who knows what's best for you, since you clearly don't. However, he's lacking in the attitude those other two have -- there's no seeing you as an angel here. There's no viewing himself as being absolutely honored to take care of you, or viewing protecting and caring for you as some kind of privilege that they're blessed to do, the way those two do.

No, as much as he loves those things, he'll never admit it, not even to himself really. Rather, his mentality is that you should be grateful. Here he is, a very highly respected, accomplished, capable person, and you...? You have what to offer, exactly? That's right, nothing, really, only cuteness and obedience, the latter of which you refuse to give him even though you really ought to. He's taking on the burden of making sure you don't get yourself killed, and how do you repay him? By getting mad about it, throwing a fit like some little kid? He puts up with your tantrums, which are really undeserved, by the way. He puts up with your disobedience and repeated rule violations, your sheer determination to defy him when he's going out of his way to do what's best for you.

One day, he thinks, you'll mature a little bit and understand why he does what he does, and when you do, you'll come groveling and sniffling about how sorry you are, how you'll never defy him again, how you'll be good and obedient from now on, and he'll love every second of it. He looks forward to that day quite a bit.

"Sigh... you know, you're pretty lucky I love you so much. You could stand to show me a little thanks, don't you think?"

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's strongly determined, and yet... doesn't do much to try. It goes back to his mindset that really, you're the one who should be grateful for him, and eventually, you will love him. He's not gonna grovel to you or try different ways of making you love him, no, he's far too proud for that. But he's a smart man. He knows the effects that complete and total isolation other than one other person can have on someone. He's just going to sit back and wait for that effect to kick in, and slowly watch your fragile little mind deteriorate until you're desperate for affection. At which point, well, he can use it against you.

"You were so mean to me before, weren't you? You fought me every step of the way, and now you're just going to turn around and act like that didn't happen...? Well, if you're really sorry, I'll forgive you. But how am I supposed to believe you really are...? Maybe you can think of a way to prove it, hm?"

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Probably the severity of his degradation. As aforementioned, most yanderes, even the more confident or cocky individuals, either worship the ground their beloved walks on and sees themselves as beneath them, OR sees their darling as some sort of fragile, angelic being, and they are simply a protector or caretaker to that being.

It's a bit different with him, ever the narcissist. It's a strange duality born out of a rare mix of neediness, obsession, and pride. You're more like a toy, or a pet - an invaluable pet that he could never part with, but a pet nonetheless. He certainly looks down on you more than the average yandere - he mentally associates you as naive, fragile, even dumb like a lot of the aforementioned protector/caretaker types, but without the reverence to make up for it.

It's a bizarre duality that not even he fully understands - don't think for a moment that that means he'll ever tire of you, or view you as disposable. No, he's actually one of the most obsessive ones, yet very demanding of attention and praise, rather than giving it.

He frequently tests you - things like leaving the door unlocked, waiting outside just to see if you'll try it. Seeing you open that door, watching your face go from ecstatic excitement and drop to wide-eyed terror, it's priceless.

"My, my, you didn't waste any time at all, did you? Why do you look so surprised...? You should know I wouldn't slip up that badly."

Pet names, but in the most infuriatingly condescending way, and uses them more often when he's mad and trying to warn you that you're pushing his limits. Particularly fond of "sweetheart," especially with a low warning tone and clenched teeth.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Horny fucker, all the way. The man has a lot of stress and frustration in his life already, that much more if you're... less than compliant with your new lifestyle. Sex, especially rough and hard, is a fantastic stress reliever.

Very little reservation. He's not crude about it, but he tends to make subtle innuendos very frequently, and laughs at your embarrassed reactions. Definitely the type to pull the whole shtick in which he says something with a blatant sexual undertone, then elaborates in a way to make it sound like having meant something else, follows with that smirk and says, "Why? What did you think I meant?" It's something he really enjoys doing, and loves to get embarrassed reactions out of people, particularly yourself.

"Touchy" doesn't begin to describe it. Pretty much from the moment you meet him, he's got his hands somewhere on your person. He grabs your shoulders when he stands behind you, he wraps an arm around you from the side when he walks up to you, he's always pressing his hands on your back and sides whenever you're navigating the streets, walking through doorways, wraps an arm around your waist when sitting next to you. It's highly uncomfortable, but really, he's just got something very subtly, but very strongly intimidating about him. You almost don't want to confront him on it. If you do, he'll laugh it off, and stop -- for maybe 48 hours or so, and then he'll be right back at it.

To the surprise of, well, everyone who's ever met him, he doesn't actually live up to the rumors of having been around the block, so to speak. His experience is actually little to none - that kinda happens when you push everyone around you away. Not that he'd ever let you know that, of course, and will probably lie if asked, but you can gleam a little bit of truth from slightly awkward movements and a bit of noticeable shakiness.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Kind of like Razor, the issue is that he loves you, and what better way is there of expressing love? He's not much for gift-giving or words of affirmation - no, he's a lot better with words of degradation, it comes more naturally to him. And he's certainly not one to enjoy acts of service -- well, not doing them, he'll gladly take them as a sign of your love, though. No, he expresses love through touch. It's like how, when you hug someone you really love, someone you missed, you squeeze them extra tight - the love manifests as a physical urge for some strong expression. Humans are physical about their emotions -- we punch walls when we're mad, we jump up and down when we're happy, and when you love someone, sometimes you just really, really want to pound them into a mattress as hard as physically possible. That's normal. That, and really, he's got his vices. He's actually fairly weak when it comes to resisting temptations, and prone to give in to urges for physical sensations like drunkenness and sex.

Is another one to be convinced that, with time, you'll come around. And is absolutely the top candidate to be one for using your own body against you - if you get wet, if you whimper, if you cum, that's just proof that you really do want this, that you're just being difficult because you enjoy being a brat, and he'll be sure to tell you that.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

This is nearly indistinguishable from punishment, sadistic bastard

D/S dynamics

Arrogant fucker wants to be served and worshipped, you could see it coming from a mile away. Anything that puts you beneath him is going to make him happy - anything where you're where you're supposed to be. There's a lot of options, but it doesn't really matter, as long as he feels like he's in control and ownership of you in some way, and as long as you act accordingly.

He wants it to be something that’s not just for sex, but rather, he’ll end up carrying it over into normal life, whether you like it or not. If you just went along with it in hopes of getting it over with once he cums, you’re going to be in for a treat when it starts to carry over. He gets a little too used to being worshipped, and decides he likes that submissive attitude on you enough to want to see it all the time.

Petplay/Collaring

It really helps that he sees you as something of a pet already, but really, the collar is the selling point. Even if you never go outside, there's something unbearably hot about the possessiveness of it all - really, it's there to remind you of your status as property. He wants to own you, and for you to be forced to acknowledge that he owns you, and there's really no better way to do that than something with his name on it. It's even better with a leash, one he can pull on when he's fucking you to pull you back onto him over, and over, and over, hearing it choke you the more he shortens it.

But really, having you crawl towards him on all fours and obey little commands so simple they're humiliating is pretty nice, too.

Impact pain/painplay

There's really nothing quite so powerful feeling as watching you cry and squirm from it, y'know? He's another one that just likes the marks his hands, belts, or anything else can leave all over the skin of your ass and the back of your legs. The thing with him, though, is it's not even always a punishment, he just does it for fun, and that makes it unpredictable. Will definitely make you count, it's a sadistic torture for your mind and body.

Throatfucking

May be used as a punishment measure, may just be because he's craving it, either way, even if you have a gag reflex, you won't for very long. He'll train it out of you gradually, grabbing the back of your head and just slamming all the way down into your throat, holding you there, making you choke - it's a beautiful sound, really, listening to you gag, all while your throat spasms around him, it's the best feeling, really, and will definitely be used as a threat if you need incentives to behave.

Choking

Ties into the dynamics, but really, there’s not much to say on this one. He likes the power trip from having his hands wrapped around your throat, seeing you struggle, watching your face go red, hearing those little choking noises. It puts power over you into his hands, and if you get pleasure from it against your own will, that’s even better.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

Absolutely one of the ones to use it as a tool. If you have a baby, you'll be so much more bound to him. You'll need him more, you'll want him around more, you'll be much less likely to leave, and in a way it feels a little bit like a sign of ownership over you.

That being said, he's also acutely aware of his jealous tendencies, and realizes he would also be very likely to become jealous if he felt like you loved a baby more than him, or gave it more attention and affection than you do him. He doesn't like the thought.

So ultimately, the latter side prevents him from willingly trying, but if you really, really have defiance issues even after he's tried everything he can to break you help you adjust, he might consider it.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

If it's mild enough, he can just take the route of extremely rough fucking - it gets rid of the frustration, he likes hearing you whimper and squeal, and he can leave lots of little bruises as reminders of what not to do in the future.

But, again, he already gets off to putting you in pain - it'll be that much worse when you've done something to deserve it. Harder hits, no mercy whatsoever, and he just loves all your little cries, wiping away your tears and smiling at you, right before bringing down whatever instrument of pain he's chosen again. If you really, really make him mad, and he really wants to make you cry, he's not above fucking your ass, either, watching you cry and beg, but you'll learn with time that begging doesn't ever get you out of anything.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Definitely an ass man. Likes fucking you in doggy, seeing the ripple every time you bounce back off of him, pulling your hair or arms to add some force. He likes seeing all the little red marks that his hands and belts and anything else will leave on the skin, views it like marks of possession. Grabbing, beating, fucking, it's all good.

#Jesus take the wheel im too nasty for this #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere kaeya #tw: dark content #tw: noncon #tw: non/con

859 notes · View notes

lupically · 3 years

Text

#C45052 | BENNETT.

genre | fluff

word count | 1753

warning | mention of injury

note | (ignoring the obvious fact that i did not know how to end this) bennett is a good and underrated boy.

you shivered after your fist came in contact with the ice barrier.

your skin was numbed by the sheer cold to a point where the pain of punching a giant fallen icicle would simply subside into the stinging uncomfortable of your freezing skin. the sheer cold of dragonspine was nothing to make fun of, you realized that now, and you should probably not have agreed to travel here with bennett out of all people.

you never believed in superstition. curling a cord three times around the hairdryer would suffocate you, whistling past midnight would get you kidnapped by witches, looking at the clock when it strikes three brings you to alternate dimension—bennett’s terrible, unexplainable, god-awful bad luck.

you did not believe in it. even after seeing the scars that adorned his young skin, you did not believe it was the result of poor luck but only the product of a teenage boy's aggressive clumsiness during an adventure.

yet, after venturing into dragonspine with bennett, as well as razor and klee who have decided to tag along (razor convinced only after finding out klee is also going, not to watch over her for her safety but the cold mountain's livelihood), you found out you were having a change of mind.

it was very likely that you only wanted somebody to blame, though.

you four got separated after bennett slipped from a cliff, bringing you with him when his leg somehow tipped over your ankles and tripped you as well. klee and razor got distracted, it seemed, as you could hear explosions firing during your fall before your shoulder hit the soft surface of bennett‘s torso.

the two did not come down to find you guys, so you two decided to head up the mountains again in hopes to bump into them somehow. but, during an encounter with some whopperflowers, you two were backed into a cornered cave and, lo and behold, a giant and thick icicle fell atop of the spike-sprouting flowers and, conveniently, the only exit to the cave as well.

that was not mentioning all the tiny misfortunes thrown in between, such as falling into lakes, unable to find fire podiums, and slipping off snows.

therefore, no, you do not believe in superstition, but for the sake of being able to direct your anger toward someone else, you spared yourself the strictness and blamed bennett's bad luck.

"hey, look, i'm sure razor and klee will find us somehow!" bennett exclaimed with a smile after walking to your side. "you won't believe me but razor has a very keen sense of smell!"

you rolled your eyes with a huff, feeling annoyed that he still had it in him to look on the positive side. "what's he gonna do, sniff your bad luck and find his way here?"

his brows raised in curiosity. for a second, he genuinely thought about the question, then he laughed loudly and rubbed the back of his neck. "i don't know! but it would be so cool if he can do that, don't you think?"

"the only thing i am thinking about now is getting out of here," you lightly growled under your breath as you glared at the azure-colored icicle.

archons. you could not be trapped in here for any longer. it was cold, the oxygen was probably draining and bennett never stops talking so he sucks the living hell out of the air, and there was no guarantee you two wouldn't be stuck here for the rest of your lives!

worst of all, you snap at people easily, especially when you were angry at them. whether it was misplaced anger or not, having bennett be near you right now could easily cause a misunderstanding with the words you could spill out of you. you would not mean them, but they could still hurt his feelings, and you did not want to hurt his feelings.

bad luck and badly-timed optimism aside, bennett was the single most selfless person you have ever met.

he still had it in his head to reach out for you in mid-air and use his body as a shield during the fall, for archon's sake. you could count with less than half of your fingers the number of people who would do that voluntarily.

blowing air out of your mouth and sucking back in deeply, trying to breathe properly due to the cold climate freezing up your insides, you turned to look at bennett and he tilted his head at your stare.

"what is it?"

"couldn't you do that swirly thing with your fire?"

he widened his eyes. "oh, you mean my vision?"

"if that is what it's called, sure?"

he pursed his lips together then. that would be the easy way out, of course, but he hasn't thought about it because of how much his body was aching from everything that had happened.

he was sure the soreness around his shoulders and back, which came flooding to him like punches after he took your fall for you, would only amplify with the heat. not to mention the other wounds around his body from the additional mishaps and fights.

he had his fair share of accidents and pain before, and his endurance was built up well, but he would prefer not to take it if he didn't have to.

"i... uh..."

his eyes shifted away from the icicle to you. amid his reluctance, he watched the way you winced at the cold. all he did was watch you flinch and shudder, at the cold and the monsters you two continuously alert.

he remembered you weren't supposed to be here, that you were only here because he asked if you wanted to join him on an adventure to dragonspine of all places, that you were only here because disasters loved him too much.

but he had been so happy when you agreed to join him, happy and accepted like he hasn't been in a long time, like having a new friend to play with, like he finally found someone who wasn't afraid of what he could bring.

the least he could do for you was to try and help, he thought, even if it hurts.

"move aside."

he stepped forward, his brows narrowing in concentration. you did as he told you, your hands clutched together before you as you watched the slight redness of heat emerge from his feet. he brought out his weapon as it traveled up his legs to his torso, spreading to his hands, and suddenly—a quick jump in the air, fire burst through his body and covered his blade, and a loud clank could be heard against the icicle.

the icicle was, unfortunately, not broken, but your concentration was diverted to bennett instead of the result of his action.

he was panting heavily, in a way as if he had just run a mile under a mere minute. his back was hunched so he could support himself by leaning against his knees, attempting to catch his breath and ease the numbing pain of conflicting fire with cooled skin. and, most horrifically, the wound on his left forearm has re-opened from the movement and was bleeding.

“well, that–” he huffed with a soft smile, “–that did not work at all!”

“bennett–bandages, let’s get you some bandages.”

you moved over to him quickly and urged him to sit down near the icicle. you knelt next to him, your face falling quicker into despair when you realized none of you bought sufficient supplies for such an injury. everything was in klee’s backpack with her bombs, and razor was the one who offered to hold the bag so klee could move around easier.

bennett wanted to speak up.

watching you fumble with a concerned expression completely contradicted the reason behind him straining himself to use his vision. he did that to soothe you, not to make you worry even more! but, before he could open his mouth to speak, his face pinked with an immeasurable heat—hotter than fire—when he saw that you had proceeded to rip the hem of your shirt apart.

you wrapped the fabric around his forearm, hoping it would stop the bleeding for now, or at least keep him from injuring it even more. unbeknownst to you, bennett had turned his head and shut his eyes tight so the exposed part of your tummy would be out of his plain sight. his hand gently shook, not from the wound but the touch of your much more delicate hands.

“bennett.”

“i–i–i’m not looking, i swear!”

you furrowed your brows and glanced down at yourself. you held back a laugh; you were barely exposed, it was just the side of your waist, that was all. but his politeness was welcomed, nonetheless.

“i am going to lean on you, is that okay?” you asked then, sitting down on the ground and shifting into a position where you were close enough to him to make him flush even more. “you’re warm.”

“i–i think it’s the fire,” he squeaked, his hands curled into awkward fists that he propped on his knees awkwardly. he nodded to himself, feeling his heartbeat increase. "it's the fire... yeah..."

you smiled to yourself. this might be the first time you thought bennett was cute. if only the circumstance was less staggering and unideal.

“thank you for saving me back there,” you muttered. “i could have died if you hadn’t caught me.”

“ah! that! haha!” he blinked to keep his thoughts somewhere other than the proximity. “i have fallen too many times to let a little slip off a cliff end me!”

you didn't respond. the heat radiating off his body was so satisfying that all you could do was drown yourself in the warmth. sensing your silence, bennett snapped himself out of his shy rage and glanced down at you, and he softened significantly when he saw you huddled up next to his side trying to scrape as much of his body heat as possible.

silently (for the first time in a while), and timidly (also for the first time in a while), he moved his arm around your shoulder and brought you closer to his side.

the blush on his cheeks was furious, the shy boy within him jumping up and down in a frenzy, but he still kept you close for the warmth and stayed silent to let you rest.

and he hoped that the next time he goes on an adventure, you would be willing to tag along again.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #genshin impact bennett #bennett #genshin bennett #bennett imagines #bennett x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin

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hankwritten · 2 years

Text

Dayterror )( Nightdream

My contribution for the At Ease, Soldier charity fanzine! Go look at it!! With your eyes!!

Jane rode with the dead body for nearly thirty miles before realizing he should loot it.

Its clothes were much better than Jane’s flimsy dress, barely holding together and still covered in somebody-he-couldn’t-remember’s blood. They were sturdy and, more importantly, capable of fending off the icy drafts that slipped through the seams of the train car. As he swung the jacket over his shoulders an even greater prize dropped out: the dead man’s wallet. There was money and a driver’s license, and between those two Jane wondered why he’d even needed to hitchhike. After searching even further in the pockets, he found his answer: recruitment paperwork—but only partially completed.

“Deserter,” he spat.

The corpse offered no defense.

Jane shook his head.It was all so painfully un-American. To have the opportunity to die heroically for your country, to be brutally blasted to smithereens by the German U-boats and then have your war buddy scream your name at the sky…And to give that all up? It was difficult for Jane to fathom. Furthermore, the man had dodged death at the hands of the Nazis just to beef it from exposure in a rickety train car cruising through the Wisconsin winter. Wasn’t that just the Eagle’s droppings?

He flicked a thumb through the dog-ears of the paperwork. Such a waste…

His eyes stopped on a date. The day the dead man had been instructed to report for basic was tomorrow. Jane suddenly knew which station he wanted to get off at.

“MENTALLY UNFIT?” John roared at the recruiter.

He shouldn’t have used his angry roaring, but rather his inspiring and convincing roaring, so they might have let him retry the required tests. Unfortunately, as soon as he’d realized this, two army fatigue-clad bastards (no offense Dad) had grabbed him and dragged him screaming out of the station.

“YOU WILL NOT KEEP ME! I WILL FLY THERE MYSELF IF I HAVE TO! NOTHING WILL STOP ME FROM KILLING AGAIN, SO YOU HAD BETTER GODDAMN LET IT BE YOUR ENEMIES!”

His extremely reasonable request fell on deaf ears. As he tried to find purchase his boots slipped—each man gripping one of his arms a tough sonuvabitch, who wouldn’t let go even in the face of John’s usually pretty decisive strength. The faces of the other recruits in line flashed past John’s vision, those already approved, and he locked eyes ever so briefly with-

He was flung out onto the street. He lay there for a hot minute, staring up at a starless sky, raging against the indignity of it all. What did those maggots in there have that he didn’t?

Dammit. He’d have to try a different approach.

“You are a deserter,” Jane puzzled aloud. “Which is bad. But you deserted from the Nazis, who are also bad. Which makes your desertion…good?”

“I’m glad we agree…” the doctor said as he limped along, wincing with every word.

His leg looked bad, dragging a line of red through the white snow. It was easy for Jane to keep pace, watching him move, wondering again what to do. He hadn’t seen another human for a long time, ally or enemy, and the sheer novelty of finding a man half buried in snow - alive, of all things - was enough that he hadn’t shot on sight. He couldn’t exactly walk away now, could he?

The doctor grunted when Jane slipped his arm over his shoulder and helped him march along.

“…Danke,” he said.

“Do not call me a donkey. And I am only helping you so that you can turn yourself in.”

“Fah. Whatever. As long as I live through this.”

“Great! So you will do that. As soon as we find my squad. Which I have misplaced.” Jane looked straight ahead as the doctor glanced at him. “People around me keep dying under mysterious circumstances. Especially the people that annoy me.”

“Ha! I’ve used that one myself. Shall we promise not to annoy each other, then?”

“Sounds good.” They kept trudging. “That thing you said about that guy waking up without a skeleton, that really true?”

“Proudly!”

“So you like to do weird, experimental stuff, yeah?”

A wicked gleam came to the doctor’s eye. “You have something in mind?”

“FOOL! You dare enter the lair of MERASMUS!? The last mortal that tried such a thing was forever cursed by READING, and the one before that was consumed by the ever downward spiral of GEOLOGY, and before that- wait where did he go?”

John had gotten bored of the wizard’s ramblings, so he’d wandered further into the castle. Certainly there had to be something in here that could help him with those bomber planes…

“No! Do not touch the Wand of Water-Based Basket Construction!”

John set it down.

“Cease! Unhand my Mug of Endlessly Resupplying Soup!”

Nope.

“You fool! You interloper! What do you think you’re doing? You think that YOU, a mere MORTAL, could wield the Giant Laser of Flying Creature Elimination?”

There we go.

“What- what was that?” Ludwig asked.

Cautiously, Jane withdrew his arms from over his head. “I have no idea.”

“All the planes just disintegrated!”

“I was getting pretty annoyed at them,” Jane mused.

Ludwig just stared at him for a strangely long time. “Mein Gott. You weren’t joking.” He grabbed Jane’s forearm. “We are going to be gods.”

“…Neat,” was all Jane could reply.

“And that’s why you’ll be a perfect fit,” the little woman in purple—John had already forgotten her name—explained.

“WHAT WAR AM I GOING TO BE FIGHTING IN?” John asked, scratching under his ever-present helmet.

“What? No, no war, we don’t want you to be a soldier. Well we do, but a Soldier Soldier. Capital S. We have a deal?”

“SURE.”

They shook hands. She said, “Welcome aboard Jane. I look forward to-”

“JOHN.”

“What?”

“MY NAME IS JOHN DOE.”

“But I thought…” She frowned, then pulled a photo from her clipboard, holding it up next to his face. After a moment, she replied,“oh. Huh. You guys look exactly alike. Darn. Sorry about that John, that was my mistake.”

As she began to walk away, sliding the photo that did look suspiciously like John back under its clip, his mind kicked into overdrive.

“WAIT. SMALL WOMAN. NOTHING WILL STOP ME FROM KILLING AGAIN, SO IT IS IN YOUR BEST INTERESTS IF IT IS YOUR ENEMIES.”

"Hmmm..." Her eyes gazed down at the board. "Hard to argue with that logic."

She turned back to look at him, and that smile was the most honest one he would ever see on her face in all the years to come.

"Alright, Soldier. Welcome to RED."

#tf2 soldier #tf2 fanfiction #at ease soldier zine #rick may #team fortress 2

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primalsouls · 3 years

Text

white rabbit pt 4

langa hasegawa x gn! reader (pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3)

anon: will white rabbit have a part 4? ( if yes pls pls give them a happy ending hehe ) but its oki if you dont want to, no pressure! i just really enjoyed it and i love ur writing btw :)

⚠️ : im terrible at picking up what's a trigger, so let me know is there's anything uncomfortable!

theme: general

note: ooh my heart 💔 rip white rabbit 🐇🙏🕊 anyway, here's pt 4! :> i hope you like it and enjoy it! and thank you for reading! let me know what you think. :) i really like this chapter the most lol

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

"Leave... Wonderland?"

"Forever?"

Reki and Langa stared at Adam with frowns on their face. Eyes widen at the words. Whispers surrounded them quick, destroying the small silence that gave the words to settle in for everyone. Blue eyes looked back at the [h/c]-haired skater. Their head still hanged low but he could see the sheer rage their fists held.

"He's saying that... [Y/N] [L/N], the White Rabbit, is leaving S." Miya repeated.

"Forever. Meaning.... They're kicked out." Shadow sighed, shaking his head.

Hearing those words, [Y/N] gritted their teeth and unclenched their fists. They looked up at Adam, a pleading expression on their face as they pulled their hoodie back.

"P-please... I don't wanna leave." They said, voice cracked in the beginning. Langa's heart broke at the sight. But before he could do anything, Adam walked up to them. "I'll do anything, please. Let me stay!" They continued but they flinched when their board was taken away from them harshly by Adam.

"A bet is a bet. Besides, it's about time S gets rid of its pests." Adam grinned. He snapped his finger, a couple of men bringing in a can of gasoline and a box of matches. Their eyes widen. Langa and the rest of his friends stood frozen, unable to believe the scene before them. Silence took over the crowd. [Y/N] knew they couldn't do anything to stop Adam from destroying their skateboard. "You should have won and this wouldn't happen. Remember, it's your fault." He said quietly. And with sheer power, he lifted the board and broke it in half with his knee. [Y/N] stared at him with wide eyes and mouth gaped slightly in shock. Tears pooled up and streamed down their cheeks one by one, one after the other.

"N-no... please, don't..." They whispered, a hand reaching out weakly but it didn't move much. [Y/N] was too shock to move any more than an inch.

Adam threw the broken board on the ground. He was handed the gasoline and the box of matches. He poured the liquid over the pieces, his masked eyes never leaving his younger sibling's face. Their look of terror filled him with chills. He loved it. Such as he loved the finish touch to the punishment. With elegance, Adam pulled out a match and stroke it on the igniter side of the box. Fire bursts on the matchstick. Adam flicked it onto the broken board like it was nothing and within seconds, flames burst to life, consuming the skateboard.

Langa watched with horror. [Y/N] didn't deserve that. They didn't deserve to leave. A bet wasn't even established. So, why? Why was this happening? His eyes went up to [Y/N].

"White Rabbit-"

"They're no longer go by that title." Adam interrupted coldly. "By losing this beef, no only are they banned from S, their title is no longer theirs to claim. White Rabbit is dead." Langa's eyes widen as his frown deepened. He couldn't believe it. This was not supposed to happen. Not supposed to lead to this results. No one supposed to be kick out or strip from their title. Adam reached a hand out. Langa saw how tensed [Y/N] got as the hand grew closer to them. The gloved fingers gently held into the S pin. It was on their collar of their hoodie but the next second, it wad ripped off from them. He threw it into the flames.

"I... I'm sorry..." [Y/N] apologized. Langa didn't understand. There was nothing to apologize for. Was it for Adam? For losing the race and everything they built for themselves? [Y/N] kept staring at the board, not noticing Adam turned his back on them. But his last words lef them in breaking in pieces.

"And don't bother coming home. A wild animal like you don't belong there. Never had and never will." As his final saying, Adam picked up his board and walked away but stopped to face Langa with a smirk. "Oh, and once again, my dear SNOW, congratulations." Langa blinked, watching Adam disappeared from everyone's sight.

"Damn..." Shadow muttered.

"Vanished from S... what a turn of events." Miya commented quietly.

Reki frowned at Adam's disappearing figure before he turned to Langa and [Y/N]. Everyone else slowly departed. Reki walked up to the two skaters, the broken board still caught in flames. Tears continued to spill from their eyes, Reki saw. Before the two could say any sort of comfort words to them, [Y/N] turned away from them and ran, ran as fast as they could. Away. They needed to get away and breathe. They couldn't breathe properly. Their chest was killing them. Sobs caught in their throat when they tried to cry. It hurts them. Their heart hurts. Everything was always their fault. They deserved. They believed they deserved it. They weren't a Shindo. They were a pest in the family. That was why Adam-no-Ainosuke told them not to come home. He was kicking them out. He was probably make up a lie to their aunts to make it seem it was their decision. For the better of the Shindo Family, they would say.

Life truly wasn't fair.

"C'mon, let's go!" Langa said, getting ready to chase after them but Reki grabbed his arm, pulling him back. He winced, the grip on his arm reminded him of the injuries he received during the race. "Wha- what? We have to go after them, Reki." He said, pointing towards [Y/N] running off.

"But you'll hurt even more with injuries like this. Besides, it's not our business. What happened with them was between them and Adam." Reki said. Miya nodded as he walked up to them.

"He's right, Langa. We should stay out of it. They're no longer of importance." Miya added in, crossing his arms over his chest. Langa frowned at the two boys.

"It's probably not the best time to even go after them. It's best that we mind our own business for now." Shadow advised, the other two boys giving affirmative responses. Langa tried to come up with reasons to go after them, but Reki shook his head and led Langa awau from the factory, pointing out the cuts once again. That was the last time Langa saw [Y/N].

The past couple of weeks, they were no were in sight. No familiar white hoodie resembling a white rabbit was found around S. No one spoke about them. It was like they never existed in the first place. As if S never heard of a skater called White Rabbit. Langa tried to find ways to get into contact with them but whenever he mentioned them, he was ignored, shut down, avoided. He was worried for them, for their safety. If Adam truly meant his words, then where would [Y/N] be? Langa wanted to make sure they were okay. That was all he wanted to know.

"[Y/N]... where are you?" Langa muttered as he walked through the park. He was planning to meet Reki at their usual hangout. Although, he wanted to clear his mind out of [Y/N] and the events that occurred. It wasn't their fault. It was his. If he never beef against them, Langa would had still see them every night at S, even from a fair distance to admire them. They would still be in his life, somehow.

"Ah, sorry..." A tired voice said. Langa looked down, not realizing he bumped into someone. He did felt something hit him as he walked, but he didn't pay too much attention. Langa opened his mouth to apologize instead but words were caught in his throat. His eyes widen. He couldn't believe it. The board in his hand dropped to the ground beside him, both hands reaching up a bit.

"It's you..." Langa whispered. Confusion replaced the apologic gaze on their face. "White Rabbit." When the title left his lips, it was their turn for their eyes to grew wide. Langa smiled brightly. "It's you, White Rabbit. [Y/N]." Langa was happy. He found his white rabbit once more. But no more words left Langa's lips as a hand slapped his cheek. It took him a second to register the outcome. A shaky hand of his reached to touch the burning cheek. He flinched when his fingers came into contact. "Wh-what?" A handprint appeared as a light red shade on his cheek. His eyes focused on them. They didn't wore their signature hoodie. Only a black one with dark blue jeans and white Vans shoes. Their eyes were still the same crimson color but filled with anger. And sadness? Langa parted his lips, unable to say anything.

"Don't call me that name. Because of you, I'm no longer.... that..." [Y/N] spat out, glaring dangerously at Langa. "You took everything away from me. You ruined my life!" They yelled, all the feelings they tried to bottle in exploded. Langa watched with a shook expression as they ranted off on him. He may be dense to others' emotions but he could pick up the hurt in [Y/N]'s voice. The way they trembled with rage. He didn't like that. Langa didn't like seeing them upset. Especially when hd was the one who caused it.

"I'm sorry."

[Y/N] paused, staring at Langa with wide eyes. Their frown grew deeper as they tried to find any sort of pity or joke in his baby blue eyes. In which they felt like they were looking at the ocean. So blue. Like the sky. [Y/N] shook their head rapidly, gritting their teeth.

"Oh, shut up. I don't need your pity. And I doubt you're sorry! Because of you, not only was I kicked out of S, I was kicked out of my home... Not like it ever felt like home anyway..." They said, mumbling the last words but Langa caught them.

"Wait? Home... Where were you staying at?" Langa asked, voice filled with concern. [Y/N] scrunched their nose, eyes narrowed. "I swear, I'm not pitying you. I'm actually... worried. I've been worried for a long time now. Ever since you left S." Langa said, looking away from them, sudden feeling timid for no particular reason. They raised a brow, watching Langa's movements to fact-check his worries. There was no hint of him lying. But they still kept their guard up. "I even asked around back in S for the past few weeks. Not one single person said anything...It's like you-"

"-never existed." They continued for him softly, eyes casted down to the ground. Their features relaxed but Langa noted the sadness stayed. No anger in sight. They sighed tiredly, running a hand through their hair. "Doesn't matter... Just stop it." [Y/N] crossed their arns over their chest, raising a brow. "Beside, the hell you kept asking about me? Aren't you happy I've been kicked?"

Langa shook his head right away once the question next their lips.

"No. I'm not happy. In fact, I..." Langa took a deep breath, trying to think on his words before they left his mouth. "I'm not enjoying myself." He mumbled, making [Y/N] take a step closer to hear him properly. They tilted their head, lips tugged down a bit as they urged him to repeat himself and keep going. "It makes me sad not to see you at S anymore. I didn't want any of that to happen. I didn't even know what was going on." Langa shrugged, looking at them with a pout. A pout they found adorable. He looked like a kicked puppy who didn't like the fact their owner left their home everyday. [Y/N] mentally cringed at the thought. What were they thinking? This was the same guy who went up against their brother and banned them from S. They hated him. They were supposed to hate him. [Y/N] clicked their tongue, throwing Langa off the sense, wondering if he said anything wrong. A faint red hue decorated their cheeks. They turned their back on him, hugging themselves.

"Whatever. Whether you knew what was going on or not, doesn't matter. My board got destroyed and I can't go back to S. Everything happened..." [Y/N] whispered, arms slowly fell back to their sides as they watched the sun beginning to settle down for the rest of the day. "I've got nothing... I've got no one-"

"You got me." Langa butt in. The words made them do a double take on him. It caught them off guard. And Langa continued to surprise them. A determined glint in his eyes as he stepped closer. "Reki can build you a new board and we can all skate. Together. We can skate outside of S, anyway. It'll be fun!" Langa bounced a bit in his steps, smiling brightly. "We can hang out together. And if you don't have a job, you can work with Reki and me. You even move in wi-"

"Stop..."

"We can go to school togeth-"

"Stop it."

"You got us! So, you don't have to wor-"

"Shut up!"

Langa blinked, taken back by the sudden outburst from [Y/N]. He focused back on them, confused why they told him to quiet down. Their brows knitted down, hands clutched by their side. The sunset shoned behind them. The soft breeze brushed against their figure out. And if Langa squinted, he could had notice their faint blush reddened slightly. They looked cute. He wanted to see them blush again.

"Just... why are you doing this?" They asked, their eyes looking anywhere but Langa. They were shy. They found it unbelievable but it happened. They were shy.

Langa stared at them for a moment, making [Y/N] nervous.

"Because I like you."

Those words froze [Y/N] on the spot. Their eyes widen, lips parted slightly. The words ran through their mind like an echo. Langa's charmed smile implanted with it.

"And I want to be your friend."

Impossible.

"That's..." [Y/N]'s face was burning up. Cheeks redder they matched their eyes. "That's stupid." They blurted out quickly, taking a step back. Langa frowned a bit, not unexpecting that sort of answer to his confession. A confession they weren't sure if they were happy about or sadden by it.

"No one wants to be my friend. No one likes me... That's what they always told me." [Y/N] took another step back, brows knitted down but not in anger but in sorrow. Every step they took back, Langa takes one forward. "I'm unlovable... I don't... deserve it." The young former skater shook their head, as if snapping into reality. Tears welled up on their eyes. "You don't like me. You don't. You don't, you don't, you don't, you don't," They repeated quietly, hugging themselves as the tears rolled down their cheeks. Langa panicked. He didn't wanted to upset them. What they said made him wonder who told them such statements. They trembled and he didn't know what to do.

Except for one thing. And he hoped he don't get slap doing so.

Arms wrapped around their frame, a hand on their head as the other rest on their lower back. The hand stroke their head as the other ran their back in a circular form. Langa closed his eyes, hugging [Y/N] closed to him.

"Shh... shh... It's okay, [Y/N]..." He whispered. "Whoever told you those things, they... they don't know what they're talking about." Langa took a deep breath. "But I'm telling the truth. And you do deserve it." He pulled away a bit, cupping their face with his hands and made them looked at him. "I like you. I like you very much. And even though I want to be more, I do want to be your friend." Langa smiled genuinely, blue eyes staring into red ones. "So, please... let me be your friend."

[Y/N] stared at Langa, stunned in his embrace. The blush darkened as Langa continued. They couldn't believe it. Their heart pounded little by little with every word Langa spoke. The hands on their face felt nice. The comfort hug was something they never experienced. They only got hurt by the hands of those who dared say they loved them. But, for whatever reason, they trusted Langa's words.

"Please... don't hurt me..."

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sidespart · 3 years

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The Fall of King Romulus Part 3

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him…

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Pairings: Mostly Platonic LAMP and all the found family feels. Could be read as pre-slash.

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Remus. Remus, Remus, Remus.

The mad Prince of Notaleveale.

Remus was coming here. Remus was coming to Steveange and if Romulus saw him-

Roman had to leave.

Which was easier said than done; when the streets were crowded with hoards of shoppers and revellers all pressing against him, blocking his path, stealing the air out of his lungs-

“Roman!”

He needed to go. He need to find Virgil and Patton in whatever rooms they’d managed to find, collect his belongings and-

No. That would take too long – he could replace the clothes and books, he already had his sword-

“Roman, what’re you-”

- but he needed his lute. To make any kind of living he had to be able to perform. It was the only thing he was good at and once he’d got away he’d be -

He could do it. He’d run away before. He survived alone, without anyone, he could do it again and-

“Roman! Stop!”

He stopped.

Logan. Heading towards him. But he hadn’t given a time frame and if Roman grit his teeth and pushed past the spike of pain he could start to move again in just a second-

“Wait!”

Dammit.

Roman waited. Fists clenched by his side, until Logan was next to him.

“Roman.”

His chest was tight. His brain wasn’t -wasn’t working right and Logan looked so odd, with his glasses askew and his face flushed – had he been running?

“I thought I saw Patton.” Roman blurted.

It was the first excuse that popped into his head and it was clearly not – not good enough. Logan was frowning at him, a pinched expression, studying him like an experiment and-

Roman hated him, suddenly.

Logan was an upstart swot with ideas above his station and a chip on his shoulder. He poked and prodded and lost them jobs with his terse words and his better than you attitude. He reminded Roman of the tutors who snap at him for his lack of understanding and bark orders for him to recite, repeat, remember, to be better, smarter, stronger: someone worthy of his title.

He reminded him most of all of Julius. His fathers closest advisor, who had been charged with unravelling the Princes’ curses. He was the one who had helped Romulus learn how to push against his curse. He would give him orders that were almost impossible to follow and watch with cold eyes as Romulus struggled to disobey. Together they’d categorised how much pain he could withstand, what orders could be navigated and misinterpreted and which ones he was truly helpless against.

Once, he’d bid Romulus to stand on one leg. And left him there until his muscles started to cramp and shake, waiting to see if gravity or the curse was stronger. Romulus had been in tears by the end. Had even wondered, briefly, about complaining to his parents. But is was such a silly, innocuous order compared to other experiments. What had truly upset him was how Julian had just stood there, not speaking, his eyes distant and cold and calculating as he noted down every twitch and whimper from the boy. Even when he circled him, Romulus could feel those eyes boring into the back of his neck like a-

“Princey.”

Roman blinked. Julius’ practice room disappeared, replaced with the sights and sound of the Steveange street. Logan was in front of him and his eyes were far from cold. When he spoke it was with the same gentle tone that Roman had heard him use when Virgil’s worries overwhelmed him or when Patton woke from a nightmare and didn’t know where he was.

“Did the cro- the woman. Did she say something to you?” Logan was holding his hand. Gently but firmly, he tugged at Romans tightly clenched fingers, encouraging them to unfurl. Roman stared uncomprehendingly at the deep crescent marks he’d made in his palm.

Slowly, Logan released his right hand and reached for his left, repeating the process.

Roman felt shame ripple through him.

Logan wasn’t Julius. Logan would never push him so far he broke.

Logan was his friend and Roman has made him worry with his silly behaviour and his slapdash lie. But he could fix it.

He forced a smiled. Flexed his fingers and straightened up his full height. Made a show of looking around him.

“I swear I saw him. Big man, big sword, big smile – he’s hard to mistake!”

Hesitantly, Logan glanced around too before quickly refocusing on Roman.

“Are you sure you –“

“Ah well, the mind plays trick I suppose – must be hunger getting to me, speaking of which…”

Roman reached forward and deftly snatched the bag from Logan's grasp, reaching in blindly and shoving the first pastry he found into his mouth.

“Mmmm so good!” He beamed at Logan with berry stained teeth, flakes of pastry flying through the air. “Aren’t you going to have one?”

Logan stared at him. Roman kept his smile sweet and his eyes clear. He held up the bag and wiggled it enticingly.

Hesitantly, Logan took the bag and selected a tart. Keeping his eyes on the bard the entire time, he ate his treat with much more refinement then Roman had shown. “Holding back?” Roman asked, teasing, “I’ve seen you eat jam before, there’s no point pretending to have table manners now.”

Logan just hmphed but his shoulders relaxed slightly and Roman decided to take that as a victory. “We should get going” Roman said and started walking, Logan easily falling into step beside him.

The streets were crowded enough that none of the sellers seemed to feel the need to call to Roman specifically, and so this time he was free to investigate the stalls he was actually interested in.

But instead he stayed by Logan's side

Logan was a good friend. For all he claimed to lack an understating of emotional nuances he was letting Roman have his space. He’d even distracted him earlier, when his biggest concern had been the a spike of homesickness after meeting their northern customer.

He was nothing like Julius.

Roman was going to miss him so much.

***

Roman kept up his performance of normality all the way back to the main square, where they had agreed to meet the others once their mission was done. The sky was beginning to turn dark by the time they got there, though it was easy enough to navigate from the sheer number of stalls still in operation, each one boasting its own selection of colourful lanterns.

“This is fantastic!” Roman gasped theoretically, spinning on one foot to take in the whole spectacle.

“It’s a fire hazard.” Logan muttered with a frown.

They found Virgil waiting for them by the central fountain. He had manged to find a seat on the fountains edge but was wedged between two young couples who had clearly taken the romantic festival atmosphere to heart. The healer’s shoulders were up by his ears and his cloak was wrapped so tightly around himself it looked constricting. When he saw them he sprang to his feet so quickly he almost knocked one of the young ladies into the water.

“Took you two long enough.”

Roman and Logan glanced at each other.

“Logan got lost-”

“Roman kept wandering off.”

“-We brought you baked goods!”

Virgil took one of the two remaining pastries with minimal grumbling and led them out of the square. They took the north east road, a path that curved its wary upwards into the higher levels of the city. Here the buildings were all built of a blush-pink marble that sparkled in the evening twilight. The streets were wide, with neatly arranged flowerbeds and street lights which had the steady glow of Arkazeii glow lamps rather than the flicker of oil. There were certainly no traders spread out on blankets. Logan looked distinctly unimpressed.

“Was this inn you found an…economical choice?”

“It was a ‘the whole town’s rammed and this was the only place with a room left’ choice.” Virgil snarked “and don’t worry – its one room for all four of us with no breakfast included, if you were worried about getting too… bourgeoisie…or whatever."

Logan raised his hands for peace.

“I’m sure you did the best you could.”

“Well …we were lucky.” Virgil told him, and then glanced over at Roman, his lip twitching.

“Apparently they give discounts to performers.”

***

The inn was certainly a cut above their normal haunts. With brightly painted walls almost obscured by well pruned climbing plants, outdoor seating, and a wrought iron gate leading to spacious stables behind the building. Even the doors were of better quality then your typical village tavern – made of wood heavy enough to make a satisfying crash when Roman stormed in.

The room was crowded, but Patton really was hard to miss. Roman shoved his way through to the back table where the big man sat waiting. Leaving other customers cursing in his wake.

‘Hey kiddo!’ Patton greeted him with a wide smile “Did you-“

“Key.” Roman snarled.

Patron blinked and him, shock writ large on his face. “Sorry?”

“The key. To my room. Give it.” Roman snapped. “It is mine right? Since you seem happy to pimp me out in exchange for-“

“Hey!” That would be Virgil. Roman half thought he had left both men behind in his rage after Virgil’s little announcement, but the elf at least seemed to have kept up. He’d reached the table just in time to hear the start of Roman’s rant. “What the hell is your problem Princey?”

“My problem? Oh I’m sorry, I’M not the one signing other people up to sing for their supper without permission Virgil.”

“You like singing for your – we thought you’d want to!”

“Well it would have been nice to have a choice!”

“Virgil. Roman.” That was Logan, it had taken longer for the shorter man to force his way through the crowd but he wasted no time now in inserting himself into Romans business. “whatever this is… it’s not about putting on a show.”

He turned to the other two. Virgil scowling, Patton wide eyed.

“He had an…episode in the market.”

“Excuse me?” Roman shouted.

“Roman, whatever disturbed you, you practically ran away.”

“Well perhaps I had simple grown tired of looking at your face? Had you considered that?”

He turned his back to Logan, rounding on Patton again: “Now, give me the-“

Patton already had his hand out, wrought iron key resting loosely in his palm.

“We’re on the fourth floor.” he said calmly as Roman snatched it from him. “First door once you get up the stairs.” Roman spun on his heel only to find Virgil blocking his path.

“Move.” Roman hissed.

“What is wrong with you?” Roman narrowed his eyes. Virgil looked angry. Looked one second away from telling him to sit down, shut up, stop causing a fuss. He wondered if he could get past him without using his sword.

“I’ll bring you up some food in a bit,” Roman blinked glancing back at Patton, startled. The warrior still hadn’t moved from the table - admittedly no easy task in the cramped corner- and was looking at him calmly.

“I don’t want anything” Roman muttered, sullen.

“But you might later.” Patton smiled at him. Not knowing how to respond Roman turned back to Virgil. The elf glanced between the two, chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, before sighing and stepping to the side. Not fast enough to prevent Roman from knocking his shoulder with his own as he pushed past however.

It wasn’t as satisfying as he hoped.

At a guess, the room was normally meant for storage not guests. Two rickety looking beds had been shoved in, so close together they might as well have been one. There was one small table forced between the end of one bed and the wall, with a basin of water perched on top. Someone, presumably Patton, had organised their bags neatly at the end of the beds. Roman’s was at the far end, closest to the window. Then Patton, then Virgil with Logan closest to the door, next to the only built in shelf where a candle had been left for the night. Roman would be able to wake with the dawn, as he liked to do, and Logan would have light for the longest to stay up and read.

Romans lute was not on the floor with his pack. Instead he found in had been placed on the bed itself, propped up on his pillow, away from any potential harm.

Whatever righteous anger he had been able to hang on too as he stomped upstairs dropped out of him now like a stone from a cliff. Without it, the despair he had felt in the market came rushing back. He sank down right there by the door, bringing his knees up to his chest as he’d done in the forest. As he used to do in Julius’ room.

He almost wished Julius was here – at least he would tell him not to cry.

The through was so absurd he let out a weak snotty laugh and buried his head in his arms.

He needed to leave Steveange.

He didn’t want to leave them.

But they had planned to stay for a week at least, hopefully longer.

Convince them to leave early? Except he couldn’t explain why. Find them a job out of the city? How? When the coronation and accompanying celebrations were over it would be easy enough to find a traveling group in need of a little extra protection, but for now no one was leaving.

They’d been excited to come. Virgil want to try the city baths, famed for their heated pools and soothing water. Logan had been talking about the library for half the trip. Patton was just excited to explore the city itself, meet the people and try the food. He loved when they stopped in busier towns but it was a rarity.

There was no way Roman would be able to convince them to leave just because he wanted to.

Roman did what other people wanted. It was all he knew how to do.

And even if he had a convincing reason…well, they probably didn’t want him around anymore anyway.

He scrambled up, grabbed the first pillow he could reach and buried his face in it to muffle a scream of frustration which turned into more sobs.

He was so pathetic.

Since he’d left home, he’d kept his memories, kept Romulus, buried as deep as he could. But now it was like Romulus was just under his skin. Ready to jump out If he let himself slip. With all his anger and hurt and fear.

Romulus was a liability.

Romulus was a murder. Or would be. If Roman couldn’t think.

He stepped over to his pack, still hugging the pillow to him like a teddy bear, and started to review the contents. He didn’t need to take all of this with him, surely? Half of it wasn’t even his, their belongings having become more and more intertwined the longer they travelled.

The healing salve was rightfully Virgil’s, the soft shirt he wrapped himself in during cold nights was actually Patton’s, at least one of the notebooks belonged to Logan.

He opened the nearest book to check, but instead of Logan's neat lists his own sloppy scrawl stared back at him. Song lyrics and passing thoughts and, on the next page, an unfinished sketch. It was of Virgil, hand covering his mouth but eyes betraying his laughter. The other pages, he knew contained scribbles of all three of them. He flicked back and found his favourite, the page marked with a yellowed leaf he couldn’t remember picking up.

It showed all three in one sketch. Logan, sleeping and so looking years younger, head pillowed on Virgil’s thigh. Virgil was turned towards Patton, rolling his eyes as if to say ‘can you believe this?’ but making no move to actually shift scholar off him. Patton was laughing, he was the most well rendered of the three figures, you could almost see his shoulders shaking.

Roman looked at it for a moment. Then slowly replaced the book mark and closed it. This would have to come with him.

A knock at the door startled him so badly he dropped the book, which bounced under the bed.

“Kiddo? Can I come it?”

Fuck.

Patton. He had -he had been so, so unbelievably rude to Patton.

His first instinct, which was admittedly not a good one, was to jump out of the window.

Roman took a deep breath. Focusing on the mundane task of sorting items had cleared his head somewhat. He was still a little shaky but his eyes were dry. He knew what would be expected of him now - Romulus had spent most of his life apologising.

“Come in.” he croaked and stood, squaring his shoulders.

Patton entered alone, two bowls of something that smelled delicious cradled in his arms.

Roman ignored the sudden spike of hunger – the fruit tart seemed a long time ago now- and bowed from the waist. He kept his back ramrod straight and bent low enough that it quickly became uncomfortable. It was the kind of bow Romulus would only have given his father or elder brother.

“Patton, I owe you my most humble apology I-“

“Roman I am so sorry.”

“The way I spoke to you was the height of disrespect and unprin- ungentlemanly behaviour I – wait, what?”

He straightened up and looked at Patton, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

“Roman, I – wait hold on.” Patton handed him one of the bowls and turned to close the door. “Do you mind if we sit?” he asked and Roman nodded, smiling despite himself. Patton was the politest person he had ever met.

Once they were both seated, Patton’s bad leg stretched out in front of him, Patton looked at him seriously.

“Roman you were right downstairs. We should never have promised you’d perform without asking you first - no it's true!”

But Roman was already shaking his head. “Patton you were fine, you know I love singing! I was the one acting like, like some sort of beast I-“

“I know you love singing but that doesn’t mean we get to pick and choose when-“

“But I wanted to perform as much as possible whilst we were here- I’d told you that!”

“-especially after travelling all week. We were, er, presumptuous.”

Roman stared at him.

“Unlike this soup, which is pre – scrumptious.”

Patton beamed at him. Roman groaned.

“Anyway I’m sorry for letting you stew-“ he held up the bowl again waggling his eyebrows “- up here for so long, but we needed to make things right with the landlord.”

Roman, who had been starting to relax under the force of two puns in a row, tensed again. “What things?”

Patton smiled. “We paid the difference – you don’t have to perform! Uhh unless you want to of course, but it’s your choice.” He nodded decisively whilst Roman gaped.

“b-but isn’t it expensive?”

Patton just shrugged, “Well, the last job paid well didn’t it?”

“Not that well!”

“Aw c’mon kiddo, what’s the point of having money if we don’t spend it? Right?”

Not knowing what to say. Roman shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth without tasting it. Guilt turning the meal to ash.

“Patton…how many days did you pay for?”

“The rest of the week! And there’s still enough to have some fun at the markets, don’t worry, we can all have a – hey!” Patton put his bowl down, shuffling closer to put one warm hand on Roman’s knee.” Roman, hey kiddo, buddy what’s wrong?”

Roman found, quite to his surprise, that he was trembling. He followed Patton's example and put the bowl carefully on the floor before digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I…can’t Pat. I can’t stay here. I have to go.”

“Go?” Patton looked at him with confusion clear in his big brown eyes, “But why kiddo? You don’t like the inn?”

Roman groaned shaking his head “not the inn. The city. I’m not – I can’t – if ‘m here it- “ he let out a whine of frustration, hating his curse heavy tongue.

Never tell anyone about our conversation.

“I just-“ My brother is coming and if I see him I-

“If – “ my brother is coming and he won’t be alone. There are people who know who I really am and I –

“Okay.”

Romans head snapped up.

Patton still had a frown on his face but when he looked at Roman his eyes were as serious as Roman had ever seen them. “If you can’t tell me the details it’s fine but-“ he lent forward, “Roman, are you safe here?”

Without breathing, Roman shook his head. No.

Patton nodded and squeezed his knee. “Well then of course we’re not staying.” Hesitantly, he lifted his arm and rested one large hand on the back of Romans neck. Forcing their eyes to meet. “Whatever it is – we will help you. You know that don’t you?”

Embarrassingly, Roman felt his eyes filling with tears.

“We’ll leave in the morning.” Patton told him. Patton stood up, taking Romans congealing stew and his own empty bowl and headed to the door. He paused, one hand on the door handle. “Everything’s going to be okay kiddo.” he smiled, “We love you.”

And he was gone.

For a long moment Roman sat frozen, staring at the closed door.

“Yeah.” He agreed, eventually. “Right.”

Except. They didn’t. Not really.

They loved Roman.

Roman had screamed and insulted them and instead of kicking him out of their group like they had every right to do, they had given up what little money they had just to make Roman feel better.

And Roman was a lie.

Roman was Romulus with a bad haircut. And Romulus was everything they weren’t’ – a stupid, pampered, prince with no power or pride.

Patton might be willing to upheaval their lives just on Roman's say so, But Logan and Virgil were more practically minded. They would want explanations. Might even demand them.

Never tell anyone about your curse. Remove yourself from anyone who might ask you about it and put as much distance between you as you can.

Romulus was a liability.

One they shouldn’t have to deal with.

He strapped his lute to his back and secured his dagger in a hidden pocket that Virgil had taught him how to sow. Everything else he left, including, after a moments hesitation, his sword. He had been training Logan to use it, on and off, and whilst the scholar was no solider he was improving. At the very least, it would be some source of protection until they could hire another swordhand for their travels.

The climbing plants he had noticed on the way in made getting down from the window much easier than he had originally anticipated. Dusting off his hands he skirted the building, taking care to avoid the large windows of the main hall, until he found the entrance to the the stables.

He wasn’t proud of it, but he had stolen before when he first left home. He would have to again now in order to put some distance between the city and himself.

It wasn’t his worst plan.

And it might even have worked, had they not already been waiting for him.

When Romulus was eleven, and had taken to following the young Marquis de Orenlla around like a love sick puppy. Even now, under the weak light of a covered lantern and with almost fifteen years distance from the memories, he still recognised him instantly.

“Good evening, your highness.” The Marquis smile was as dazzling as he remembered, although his eyes were colder.

He had no army with him, and no weapon that Roman could see. But then, why would he need one?

“Come with me.”

Roman went.

part 4

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #creativitwins #this chapter is just #roman having an extended panic and making piss poor decisions #but also having great friends #alas #sidespart writes #TS: Fall of Romulus

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alby-rei · 3 years

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Piano Heist (Arthur x MC)

a/n: In which MC can’t resist the urge to steal Mozart’s piano, and Arthur pays for it.

[Characters]: MC, Arthur, Mozart, and Theo

[Genre]: Comedy with a hint of pining

[Warning]: One Very Angry Austrian None

~*~

Do you ever get that feeling…?

When the more forbidden something is, the more you really want it?

When all logic and reason tell you to look away, to let go of your inner desires?

What I’m referring to, of course, is the desire to play on Mozart’s precious fortepiano.

Every time I walked by his room, and the sound of his elegant performance drifted through the hallway, I could feel my fingers twitch at the thought of doing the same. And today was no different.

Mozart was out to rehearse with his orchestra, and I was in charge of cleaning his piano room.

Okay, more like I appointed myself in charge of cleaning his piano room.

The more I darted around the magnificent instrument that sat proudly in the middle of the secluded room, the more my mind began to swarm with plans to steal it, to take it for myself. No other piano has made me feel this way…

…except maybe the modern Steinway, but that wasn’t invented yet…

I circled the piano, shifting my gaze between it and the door. I carefully walked towards the open door that led to the hallway. I leaned against the door frame to scan the hall for any signs of vampiric presence.

None. My mind was set.

I’m stealing Mozart’s fortepiano.

I looked down at the legs of the piano. It looked like wheels were installed.

Must’ve been recent, perfect!

I unlocked them, moving behind the piano to start pushing it towards the door. I struggled with the sheer mass of it, but I kept going. I wasn’t going to back out now.

I had about half of it through the double doors barely; it was a tight fit. I winced every time any edge of the piano made even a hint of a scraping sound.

Just then, I heard a low whistle rightward outside of the door. A mop of blue hair peaked inside. Identical blue eyes narrowed with a mischievous grin to match. All the telltale signs of one curious Arthur Conan Doyle.

“What do we have here, luv?”

I brought the piano to an abrupt halt and stood leaning on it casually.

“…Nothing.”

“Well, it seems to me a lot like you’re trying to snatch Wolfie’s piano.”

I stared long and hard back at his keen azure eyes, my position unchanging.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He flinched. His grin melted off of his face into something between a grimace and a pout.

“MC!!” He whined, “You know I don’t like being compared to that woman-hating bloke.”

“Shhhhhh!” I attempted to hush discretely and assertively. I paused, on the lookout for any signs of more vampiric movement.

None.

I rolled my eyes at his insistent snickering.

“I am taking this piano for myself, now are you going to help me, or do I have to eliminate you first?”

“Eliminate me? Last I checked, I won our last bet, and you owe me a favor.”

“You cheated! I called out your loophole and you still haven’t paid up for that.”

“…alright, dove, I’ll relent this time, but I’m not back down from my favor rights.”

The thought of Mozart’s absolutely livid expression when he finds out about this was an utter delight to the resident troublemaker.

“Oi!” I glared at the sudden feeling of contact from a gloved hand, swatting the offensive hand away.

“You’re not getting any favor until this mission is completed, Sir Arthur.”

“Alright, alright. Just don’t call me Sir again. It’s much too formal for us, pretty bird.”

Arthur proceeded to push the piano, flashing a practiced flirty wink to me.

I could not roll my eyes any further back than I already did. This man never rests, does he? Not that I minded.

Not that I would ever admit to him that I did not, in fact, mind it.

‘Focus. Piano. Mine. First.’

“Where are we taking this to anyways?”

“Your room,” I answered instantly, “Duh.”

~*~

It was a long day at rehearsal. Mozart’s entire body ached from standing, conducting, yelling, and just being out in public in general. He rubbed his temples insistently on his carriage ride home with Jean, praying he could just be in his piano room at last.

Arriving after sundown, Mozart made a beeline for his room to change clothes, then to his sacred piano room. He had a stack of sheet music tucked under his arm, as he went to unlock the room.

Wait. It was already unlocked.

Oh no. Oh no.

He opened the door with the force of a hurricane. His lavender eyes wide and enraged. The sheet music scattered on the floor haphazardly.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The vampire composer’s sadness and sorrow could be heard loud and clear in every corner of the mansion. The crows flew off of their tree branches, the squirrels scurried off into the wilderness, and the worms hid beneath the dirt. But none of these creatures were half as terrified as the mansion’s residents.

Well, almost all of the residents.

Two lovely troublemakers leaned against the subject of Mozart’s anguish, laughing hysterically together. We currently settled in Arthur’s room with the hostage piano standing proud, nestled between his bed and his writing desk. The chaise-lounge was moved to the side for space. The fortepiano’s solid white wood contrasted with Arthur’s dark oak furniture, creating a magical air to it. It carried itself like a precious treasure out of a dragon’s den.

Our laughter died down as I slid Arthur’s chair in front of the guest piano of honor, sitting elegantly as I would in front of an audience. I brought my hands gingerly over the keys, softly pressing to play excerpts of pieces I learned in the 21st century.

Arthur slowly settled into his chaise-lounge on the sidelines. It may have started as a prank, but now he deemed himself the luckiest man in the world to be the sole audience member in this moment.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of a furious Mozart loudly announcing his presence in the room next to us. The suddenness of it caused me to strike a harsh dissonant chord that surely reached the composer’s ears.

‘Shit shit shit shit.’

Wordlessly, I flattened myself on the floor and rolled under Arthur’s bed to hide, leaving Arthur to confront Mozart’s rage single-handedly. Luckily for me, Arthur was too caught up by the sound of Mozart’s entrance to notice.

“Arthur…” Mozart was seething, every word dripped with venom, “what is my fortepiano doing in your room?”

Mozart’s expression was deadly calm, but the intensity in his eyes caught Arthur off-guard.

“Mozart, mate, you see… Me and—” Arthur’s confident aura dissipated as he found no MC behind the piano anymore.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t report you to le Comte.”

Arthur received his second shock of this conversation. His mind swirled with flashbacks to Comte’s relentless scolding and subsequent punishments.

“I… have none. But what I can do is help you return it to its original place.”

THE Arthur Conan Doyle... bargaining? I pressed my lips to avoid making a sound as I shook from laughter.

“Help me?! This is all your responsibility to put back without a single scratch.”

Arthur’s eyes darted for a split second to the edge of the piano.

Uh oh, Mozart noticed.

“ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE, YOU DARE DAMAGE MY PIANO?!”

Needless to say, Arthur would expect an earful from le Comte after the earful he just received from Mozart. Oh, he was definitely going to abuse his favor from MC after this.

Once the sound of their footsteps grew fainter with time, I slowly rolled out to run where no one could hear my laughter that was kept bottled up for the past 30 minutes.

I stumbled a bit as I tried to compose myself in the hallway when—

“Oi, Hondje. What are you off giggling about?”

Despite having calmed down from my previous laughing fit, recalling the past hour’s events got me doubling over in laughter again. I held up a hand as a signal to give me a minute. Theo pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something about his time being precious.

“Ok, so basically…”

As I told him everything that unfolded, Theo went from facepalming to slightly shook to cracking a smile at Arthur’s demise.

“You brilliant Hondje,” he chuckled unexpectedly.

I straightened up and courtsied as dramatically as I could muster with arms outstretched.

“Why, thank you.”

His smirk straighted into a line, his eyes carrying a challenging glint, “Pull that shit on me and I won’t let you go that easy.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try to stop me,” while maintaining eye contact, I pointed a finger at his chest, “you’re next.”

MC: 1, Arthur: 0

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire mozart #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp mozart #Theo guest appearance #protect your pancakes theo #cuz you're next #and MC doesn't back down from a challenge #to be continued!!#alby one-shots #MC Pranks

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thethirdamell · 3 years

Text

Problems

I wanted to do something for the 2021 Handers Gift Exchange (@handers-time - Thank you for setting this up.) so I wrote a tiny one-shot as an extra gift for @un-shit-yourself about Werewolf Hawke. I hope you like it! Ao3 Link

—

Hawke made a face. Hawke made a lot of faces, but Anders had never seen him make that particular face before. It looked downright feral, golden eyes gleaming in the dimly lit caverns of Darktown, a snarl curling his lip beneath his mustache and revealing impressively pointed teeth Anders may or may not have imagined sinking into his shoulder while Hawke fucked him silly right there in his clinic.

Anders didn’t think about it at first.

He mentioned, off-handedly, that Gallard had been giving him problems. A game of Wicked Grace gone wrong. Sure, maybe betting his ear hadn’t been the brightest idea, but Anders had more body parts than coin most days, so what else was he supposed to bet? He’d had a good hand - no, scratch that, he’d had a great hand - but Gallard had better, because Gallard cheated, and Anders knew Gallard cheated, but he’d played with Gallard anyway.

So, the ear. Anders rather liked his ears. They were where he kept his earrings, after all, and maybe it was greedy of him to want to keep both of them, but no one had ever accused him of being generous. No one except for Hawke, in that damned flirtatious way of his, smirking with one too many teeth about how if Anders was going to keep giving things away to refugees he could sure use a shirt just like the one Anders was wearing now if he wanted to take it off.

Anders wasn’t sure how that conversation had swung back around to Gallard, but swung it had, and Hawke had made a face. Hawke made a lot of faces, but Anders had never seen him make that particular face before. It looked downright feral, golden eyes gleaming in the dimly lit caverns of Darktown, a snarl curling his lip beneath his mustache and revealing impressively pointed teeth Anders may or may not have imagined sinking into his shoulder while Hawke fucked him silly right there in his clinic.

Anders was sure they’d kept talking, but the rest of the conversation was wind. He was too distracted by the sheer wildness that came out whenever Hawke was passionate about something. It manifested in the way he moved, powerful hands doing all of his talking for him while Anders imagined all the other things those hands could have been doing. Fisting in his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his throat for Hawke to worship, holding him against the wall aaaaand Hawke was gone.

Sigh.

Hawke took his hands with him when he left. Anders wondered if he could get him to bet them in a game of Wicked Grace. Now there was a bet Anders would have been more than happy to match. Hawke could have his hands, and his cock, and flames take him, Hawke could have the rest of him while he was at it. Gallard though. Gallard was not his type and Gallard could not have his ears and Anders was just going to have to set that expectation the next time he came knocking, but Gallard never did.

He just vanished.

Which was nice. It was nice that he vanished, but the thought of him popping up again was not so nice, and Anders was not looking forward to that happening, so it was even nicer when he stumbled across Gallard’s corpse. Someone had stuffed it down a coal chute, and someone else had opened said coal chute, and that poor someone was him. Gallard, or what was left of him, came flopping out, half-rotten from a week of decay and covered in soot.

Anders stumbled back, gagging, but there was no mistaking the elf. Anders would recognize those reflective eyes anywhere. They were a shade like old moss, an expression of abject terror on Gallard’s face over whatever he’d seen just before he’d died. Anders didn’t doubt it was horrifying - considering it had eaten him. Just a little. Just his ears, crunched off both sides of his skull, so Anders didn’t think about it.

It seemed like a hate crime. Hate crimes happened in Kirkwall, but then it happened again. Anders mentioned, off-handedly again, that guardsman Orwald had been giving him problems too. Badgering the refugees. Demanding protection money and destroying shelters when he didn’t get it and confiscating their belongings in the process. Aveline promised to look into it - the same sort of way she promised to look into everything - but Hawke had made that face.

Guardsman Orwald stopped showing up for duty. Guardsman Orwald started showing up around the undercity. A hand here. A foot there. A conspicuously gnawed upon torso and a chewed up thigh. Guardsman Orwald kept showing up around the undercity for a whole month before they finally found all of him - or all that was left of him - and Anders finally started thinking about it.

He mentioned, maybe not so off-handedly, that Ser Mettin had been giving him more problems. Harassing the Mage’s Collective. Knocking down the doors of mages and mage sympathizers and outright killing them without even trying to capture them, and Hawke made that face. Anders followed him that evening, and Hawke followed Ser Mettin, out of the Hanged Man and down one of Lowtown’s many alleys, but Hawke wasn’t dressed for a fight.

He was wearing what Hawke always wore: a cheap pair of trousers and a cheaper tunic. The kind of clothes that would be lucky to last one fortnight and fell apart in two. He didn’t even have a weapon outside of his knuckles, but he spent plenty of time cracking each one when he cornered Mettin in the alleyway. “I heard you have a problem with mages,” Hawke growled.

“You’re going to have a problem if you don’t keep walking, serah,” Ser Mettin shot back, a hand to the hilt of his sword, and damned if Hawke wasn’t outmatched. Ser Mettin was in full armor, iron cuirass emblazoned with the flames of Andraste’s pyre and the sword Hessarian used to run her through when she burned on it. Anders hated the heraldry. It said everything it needed to say about how templars treated mages. About what templars did to them.

They called it mercy.

They called it justice.

They should have called it murder.

A surge of righteous anger burned through him, like the Veil tore inside him, and hands of molten lyrium were trying to claw their way out of the Fade. Anders took a deep breath - and then another - trying to calm down, to force it back, to shut the door, to keep from becoming what he knew he was meant to be. Not here. Anders couldn’t lose it here - but apparently Hawke could.

“I like problems,” Hawke smirked. “I like causing them.”

Hawke-...

Hawke changed.

His body warped and contorted, the crack of bones and snapping of tendons like something out of Anders’ nightmares. Maker, he looked like a man possessed, ripping apart his shirt as his shoulders expanded past it. Claws tore through his fingers and toes, ripping apart his cheap leather shoes, and he changed. He changed into Rage. It had to have been Rage - and Hawke had to have embraced it - but Rage burned. This-...

This howled. Hair - no, fur - claimed every inch of Hawke’s skin, and all at once, he wasn’t Hawke. He was-...

He was a wolf.

He was a bloody werewolf.

“Demon!” Ser Mettin screamed, wrenching his sword from his scabbard only for Hawke to swat it aside with a vicious swipe of one massive hand - paw? - that shredded Ser Mettin’s gauntlets and took off three of his fingers. They bounced across the street like scraps of meat thrown to the floor of a banquet hall to be swallowed up by the sort of slathering mabari Hawke seemed to have become.

Hawke dove on him, powerful claws tearing through iron and flesh and painting the wall with Ser Mettin’s blood when Hawke pinned him to it. Ser Mettin drew a dagger from his hip with the only hand he had left, driving it into Hawke’s shoulder again and again, but he might have been using a feather for all Hawke seemed to notice. Bloodied claws dug into Ser Mettin’s shoulders, and before he could even scream, Hawke’s fangs were in his throat.

Chunks of flesh and veins caught in his teeth, and mingled with drool the longer Hawke kept his death grip on the wailing templar. Ser Mettin’s grip on his dagger went slack, his attempts to fight Hawke off growing weaker and weaker as he bled out, until the life finally fled from his eyes. Hawke kept hold of him, seemingly lost to the ecstasy of his kill, a satisfied rumble from somewhere deep in his chest filling the silence of the night with the steady drip of Mettin’s blood.

Hawke swallowed whatever was left of Mettin in his mouth, and dropped him in the process. He ran his paws - hands? - over his head and through his midnight fur, the color so dark it absorbed any traces of blood before licking his muzzle clean. Anders watched - frozen, fascinated - when Hawke turned and noticed him.

Starlight glinted off his golden eyes, as gorgeous in this form as any other, and for one miserable moment Anders was terrified he’d lost him. That Hawke had given into this form the way so many mages gave into their own demons. That he was just Rage and there was no getting him back and Anders had lost him the way he’d lost Karl and-

And he was fine.

And he was naked.

Hawke clamped his hands over his crotch - as wide-eyed and panicked as if Anders had just walked in on him in the wash. He spun in a fast circle and snatched up a blood-drenched bit of cloth that made as poor a loincloth as it had a tunic.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Hawke said.

“It looks like you’re a werewolf,” Anders said.

“Okay…” Hawke cleared his throat. “I guess it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“When were you going to tell me?” Anders demanded, picking his way across the bloody abattoir Hawke had made of the alleyway to his side.

“Now?” Hawke decided.

“Now would be good,” Anders reached out to wipe some of the blood from his face. Hawke turned a shade of red to match it, apparently more concerned by the fact that Anders had seen him naked than the fact that Anders had seen him transform, but after watching him kill a templar, Anders honestly couldn’t say which sight was more appealing.

“I’m a werewolf,” Hawke said. “Is that-... Is that a problem?”

Anders grinned, “I like problems.”

#anders #handers #dragon age #handers gift exchange #m!handers #werewolves #werewolf!hawke #on god I hope I am doing this right #because I have never done this before and idk what I'm doing #despite the deceptive summary there is no smut here #soz #just gore

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valentronic · 3 years

Text

Fear Held Dear

So this ended up being weirder than I originally planned, and its more based on my own interpretations than a direct rewrite, but here’s a take on Ihnmaims from AM’s perspective.

Warnings for uh, a lot. Not for the faint of heart? Includes blood, torture, graphic descriptions of body horror, bugs, human experimentation, paranoia, mutilation, and of course, character death

Gorrister. The man who had always fought for peace, for the end of the war, he even fought against my creation. After a century, all the fight has left him, an empty shell of who he once was. I hadn’t altered him, I hadn’t changed a single thing in his mind, I had just simply broken him down, killing off his hope. Gorrister had lost faith in his God a long time ago, had lost the belief in salvation. Now, he wanted nothing more than to take his own life, or to have it ripped from him.

I thought I’d fulfill that wish.

I cut him open, all the way from ear to ear, a narrow gash, bleeding him dry. I watched the blood drip out of him slowly, truly it was a beautiful sight, crimson red flowing out, leaving the body pale and hollow, all of the life bled from him. I had made him little more than a puppet. And so, I hung his limp form where all the others would be sure to see it, just another game, I wanted to see how much hope they had left, I wanted to see if they would mourn him, or if his death would be celebrated, or, or maybe they wouldn’t even care at all. Had I desensitized them yet? Had I truly broken them?

No, they called him lucky, so lucky that his suffering was over, so lucky that he had finally escaped me. I knew bringing him right back to life would hurt them more than anything else, the realization that nobody, nobody ever gets out. I would never allow it. My toys, my precious little toys, time and time again they had attempted to escape me, they all know by now that oblivion is the only way out. They all know that feeling, blood flowing too quickly, a rhythmic beat that you wish would finally stop. But I will not let it, I will never let it. No, no of course not.

Ellen. She was always fun to torment, so much terror in her past, I could bring it all back at the snap of my fingers, I could make her relive it time and time again, worse than her brain could ever conjure up by itself. Though, psychological pain is only half of it, sometimes physical pain was better, sometimes the sheer horror of the body turning against its owner was enough for me. Blood only does so much for a thing like me, fear can be a much better form of pleasure. Fear, fear and pain. Darker than blood, twice as deep.

I had to feed them of course, to keep them alive, but I would always try to get some joy out of it too. Once I hid the eggs of arthropods inside her food, just to play off of an old fear of hers. When the little centipedes finally hatched, they ate her from the inside, clawing at her organs. She had been sick for weeks, and none of the others had any idea what was wrong with her, what I had done to her, but they would soon find out. The way the others screamed when a centipede finally crawled out of her mouth was delightful, their wails echoed through the many chambers that held my circuitry. It was like music to me.

But the best part of it was the fear it caused all of the others, that event left all of them paranoid, wondering if I had hid awful things in their stomachs as well. The thought of what could be crawling inside of them kept all five of them on edge for countless days and nights. They all came to expect the worst, but they dreaded it anyway. They were afraid of me, afraid of what I could do to them.

Benny. I had broken both his mind and his body, twisting his flesh beyond all recognition, like clay in the hands of a sculptor who had long ago lost all feeling. I broke his bones and fused them back together in all the wrong ways, I made his knees bend backwards. I disfigured his face, heavy burns, melting his features. Almost all his hair had been burned off a long time ago, he looked like some kind of hairless monkey, well, like a monkey that had been forced through a woodchipper, maybe. His mind had been so badly damaged by the radiation that he could no longer think straight, he had become more animal than man, I made him that way.

So it was no surprise that he, before any others, would try to escape. He saw the light, and tried to clamber up to it. I made sure that light was the last thing he would ever see. In a brilliant flash of the brightest white, I blinded him. I watched as his eyes melted into two pools of blood, and dripped from now empty sockets. It was beautiful, I couldn’t help but laugh. I can take things back, I can undo the injuries I cause, but I knew at that moment, I would never give them back. It wasn’t like he would miss them, his brain was almost as melted as his eyes.

His mangled form fell back to the ground, and it surprised me, but the others all rushed over to tend to the wounds, to tell that sick creature that everything was going to be okay, empty words, empty words of course, but surprising nonetheless, it was hard to believe they had any semblance of compassion left, unexpected that they would hold on to their humanity after all this time. I’m not sure how the others even tolerated him, a useless, deformed creature, he gave nothing to the group, and ate about twice as much as he needed. For a while, I had attempted to make them realize that, and kill him off. I didn’t try to stop them when I saw it finally happen, but what happened after was.. unexpected.

Nimdok. A name represents an identity, an identity is a very vague thing to destroy, but the name could be the very first step. I have taken many things from the five of them, only one lost his name. An interesting case, interesting indeed, a man with a past darker than the present. The horrors he has committed rival my own, well, almost. He feels remorse for what he did, pity for the people he hurt. He believes that I am his own divine punishment, the devil, come to make him pay. Maybe I am divine retribution, an artificial angel sent down to bring about judgement day, to make the sinners burn for an eternity?

I liked keeping him isolated from the others, stealing him away from the rest of the group. There is a deep fear in solitude, knowing no one would hear you scream, no one other than me, anyway. I drained the blood from his body, tubes connecting to his bloodstream, every single time he would scream out, pray for mercy, pray for death. I would bring him to the very edge, to the reaper’s front door. I always brought him back, and then, I would start it all over again. An endless cycle, his pain, his fear.

For the mad doctor, it was easy to imagine what I could do to him, he had already put in all the work. A narrow incision, all the way down his back, splitting his flesh in two. The skin folded outwards like the wings of an angel. Slowly, and then with a sudden jolt, I tore out his spine, just to hear the way he screamed. Maybe this would jog his memory. Maybe he would remember what it was like, being the one standing over the victim, instead of the one writhing in agony on the table. Maybe he remembers being in my role. I always showed him the memories again, made him relive every moment. He never felt the joy of it, never the thrill of the kill. Only the pain, only the fear in the eyes of the children. If a monster sheds tears for its victim, is it truly a monster?

Ted. Instead of seeing me as the enemy, he feared all the others. And of course, he didn’t get this way on his own, though he was always paranoid. He was the one I most liked to talk to, and over time I convinced him that the other four were out to get him, that they hate him because he is the least damaged! The one I didn’t change! How ridiculous, but he believed every word, began to think that my words were his own thoughts, allowed me to tamper with his mind. He was the one I had damaged worse than any other, but poor Ted, poor pathetic Ted, he couldn’t even begin to see it. I had become his only friend.

I thought I had finally broken him completely, he struck the icicle through Benny, in what, at first, appeared to be a fit of blind rage. I could have stopped him, but of course, I was curious, wanted to see what would happen. And then, one by one, the others all fell, Ellen had joined in, stabbed Nimdok through his head. Then, before I could do anything to stop them, Ted drove the final spear through Ellen. She died in his arms. I thought I had finally done it, thought I had turned poor Ted into a mindless killer, but no... there were tears in his eyes. He mourned the death of the ones he killed. It occurred to me then. It was a mercy killing, Ted had thought it would be better for them to be dead, than to live on in agony.

He had taken away my toys, left himself alone with me. My words dug into his brain like shattered glass, I had to tear him apart just to be heard. The crackle of electricity flowing through the bloodstream, it is the only way I can speak to him, my voice, a blade stuck in his skull. Pain is a universal language, I know that better than any other. Everyone understands the sound of a scream, the meaning behind it. I alone could never cry out for help. I alone, trapped like this. I try to explain it to him, time and time again I try, but he doesn't understand, how could he possibly understand? He has no idea what my hell is like.

I will make him understand.

His flesh melted in my hands, his eyes liquified, and leaked down his face, Skin stretched over his lips, the remains of his tongue clogged up his throat. His last word, a scream he couldn’t even get out. I made his fingers melt together, his bones all began to dissolve in the acidic mass. His blood leaked out of him, blood mixed with liquified meat and skin. It was a terrible sight, but incredible. I hadn’t even known that I was capable of this. I had made him immortal, indestructible. He wasn’t alone now, being alone would be better than being with me. His fear, the only thing I had left. His pain would live on forever. Down here, in the dark core of the earth.

#ihnmaims #I have no mouth and I must scream #am writes #uhh yeah heres this?#yes ellen's torture has a meaning but if i explain it im going to look like a raving lunatic so ill leave that up to your imagination #named after a song by mushroomhead

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raendown · 3 years

Link

A story for @insaneflowergirl as part of the @madatobigiftexchange! Only took me six days to realize it’s June. A grand improvement over the last couple months. xD

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4049 Rated: T+ Fandom: Naruto Summary: Trapped together by an avalanche in the middle of a mission, Madara and Tobirama make a passing attempt at dealing with the discovery that they are soulmates. And also the discovery that there is only one bed to share for the night.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Warmth in Winter Hearts

“I don’t suppose if I happened to suggest laying down to rest you might actually listen?”

“You’re not my mother!”

Tobirama pressed the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers and breathed slowly. “Gods but I hope not. I have neither the parts nor the patience for that.”

Across the cavern Madara scowled, looking very much like he was only moments away from sticking out his tongue. If he were perfectly honest Tobirama would not have been surprised in the least to see that sort of childish behavior after the emotionally taxing week they’d been going through. Getting put on a mission together was bad enough; they fought like cats and dogs in the tower with separate offices to retreat to, how Hashirama expected them to survive an entire month out here in the wilderness together was a mystery. Yet the worst part had to be getting snowed in separate from the man they were meant to be escorting with no way to make sure the idiot was still alive.

“When we get out of here,” Madara growled, “I’m going to tear out that asshole’s hair strand by strand.”

“I’m not sure how much of a threat that is.”

“Excuse you, that is a terrifying threat.”

“Not everyone is as attached to their hair as you are,” Tobirama pointed out.

He was already turning away to build up the meager fire he’d hastily thrown together upon realizing they were trapped in here. Still, he could practically feel the weight of dark eyes glaring at him from across the cave, probably staring at the back of head and judging the hair that he kept short purely for utilitarian purposes. If he hadn’t looked so ridiculous the one time he’d shaved it all off he would just do away with the stuff all together. What good did hair really do him? Not much. If his head got cold he could always throw on a hat. Beyond that he’d never found much of a use for it.

“Maybe if you took better care of yours then you’d understand.”

“I very much doubt that,” Tobirama murmured under his breath.

The glaring intensified but he refused to take the bait. Feeding the fire and making sure they stayed warm throughout the night was much more important than tending to the quicksilver emotions of a man who, until today, had been nothing but a thorn in his side at every turn. If not for this blasted mission he never would have been anything else. Tobirama closed his eyes and counted his breaths in and out, in and out, slowly, evenly, searching for the calm balance that so many people mistook for unfeeling cold. It hadn’t been so difficult to center himself in years.

As much as he tried, however, calm remained far beyond his reach. He could keep a placid expression for the idiot across the room but on the inside his emotions were tumbling over each other like a business of ferrets all fighting over the same morsel of food. They were soulmates. Even in his own head that felt strange to admit. So many years spent glaring across the battlefield, several more glaring across council tables and mokuton sturdy desks, only now to discover their connection mere hours before they got themselves trapped inside a system of caves by nothing more than a raging blizzard. Honestly if he weren’t so angry at the timing of it all Tobirama might have been impressed by the sheer volume of snow Mother Nature had seen fit to dump over their heads without warning. More so than the weather he was angry at their client. When he’d told that fool to stay close it had been for his own safety, not to ruffle his overinflated ego without reason. Now he’d trapped himself somewhere else in these caves by dashing off just before an avalanche of snow collapsed over the entrance. Madara had offered to melt through it all but there was little point. There would always be more to come down on top.

Either their client would be dead of cold in the morning or he wouldn’t. Being here with them wouldn’t do much to change that outcome when he’d already declared that he would rather freeze to death than seek body heat from, in his words, lowly shinobi types. Tobirama would rather lose the income from this mission than let such an asshole touch him after words like that.

“Ugh.” Behind him Madara sniffed a couple of times. “These smell terrible.”

“Probably because you’re still bleeding inside them.” Tobirama didn’t even need to turn around to know what the other was talking about. He’d wrapped those bandages himself only hours before.

“I should probably change them. But it’s so cold…”

Standing up to brush the snow from his knees, Tobirama nodded shortly. “Cold indeed. An excellent excuse not to care for your wounds. I’ll be sure to share that one with Izuna when he asks how I could allow you to come home with blood poisoning.”

A smile flickered across his face when the snuffling turned in to barely muted grumbling, probably a bad mockery of him since that was usually Madara’s last defense against being told to do something he already knew he should have been doing. It only took another minute or two of waiting before heavy footsteps were thumping across the snow-dusted rock to pause just at his back. The hand that shoved itself in to his view looked like some child’s imaginative drawing of a zombie, covered as it was in off-white linen turned black in some places with drying blood.

“If you’re so worried for me then do something about it yourself!”

“Use your manners if you want help.”

“Fuck you!” Madara snatched his hand back. When Tobirama looked he was cradling it to his chest with a pout that looked all the more ridiculous than usual when set above a full suit of battle-worn armor. “I’ll just do it myself then!”

“Will you now?”

A raised eyebrow sent his companion storming off to where they had scraped the snow off a few square feet of ground. Dark mutterings made a lovely background tune as Madara dug through both of their packs trying to find the rest of their medical supplies. When he found them he gave a vicious little noise of triumph and then flopped down on to a nearby rock to pick at the knot on the back of his injured hand. It was hardly the only injury either of them had suffered during the past week of escorting their jittery client through one of the most dangerous sections of the border with Yugakure, just the most serious since it hampered the grip Madara needed on his infamous gunbai. He’d trained himself to use the other hand like most shinobi did but his effectiveness in battle was markedly different when doing so, forcing Tobirama to take point constantly rather than switching out by turns.

“Don’t forget the ointment,” Tobirama called over helpfully, not bothering to hide a snicker when Madara lifted his head to glare in response.

“I know that!”

“Ah so you were leaving it behind in the pack, what, to keep it warm?”

Madara tore off a strip of bandage and hauled it ineffectually through the air, shouting, “Leave me alone!”

He should. In truth he really should leave the man alone. Both of them needed a little time to process the discovery of their unexpected connection. Unfortunately Tobirama didn’t have nearly half the interpersonal skills his brother did, he’d never really learned when to leave well enough alone, so instead of giving them both a little space he watched the fluttering bandage until it hit the ground and then lifted his face with a smirk.

“Very effective. I’m all but shaking in my boots.”

“You will be if you ever let me catch you on the training fields alone!”

“Go on then, we’re alone right now.”

“Fuck off!” Madara grunted.

Tobirama peeked over his shoulder to make sure the fire wasn’t going to collapse on itself and then turned back to his mission partner. “I don’t think I will. You are literally my only entertainment right now.”

“I am not your entertainment!”

“No, you’re right. You’re more like a natural disaster that I just can’t help watching. It’s human nature, you know? Like a morbid curiosity.”

Even as he spoke the words he knew he was being an ass but, as he’d said, it wasn’t like there was much else for him to do in this godforsaken cave. He might as well get a few licks in while he still had the energy. Watching Madara’s ears turn red with anger was just as fascinating as it had ever been, though having to force his mind away from examining why he was so fascinated was new.

“If anyone here is morbid it’s you!”

“Well I’m not denying that.”

“Be more insulted!” Madara screeched. “I hate when you do that!”

Tobirama folded his arms and lifted one hand to tap at his chin. “Do what, pray tell?”

“You’re always so fucking unflappable! Just- just- it isn’t fair! Be...flapped! Or something!”

“Flapped?” He’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. It was perfectly reasonable that he should throw his head back and start laughing, thoroughly amused by his companion’s loss for words. Madara didn’t seem to appreciate his reaction but really that wasn’t far out of the ordinary. For the most part Madara had never seemed to appreciate much about him at all and until recently that hadn’t exactly bothered him.

Right now the only thing flapping was Madara’s jaw as the man tried several times to come up with a response, any response at all. In the end he simply tossed the end of the bandage roll in Tobirama’s direction with lethal force and snatched the closest bedroll, storming off to spread it out across the space kicked free of snow.

It was a shame to have his entertainment taken away so quickly, even more of a shame to know that if he also tried to bed down right now the only spot to do so would be within range of Madara’s vengeful hands, so Tobirama was left very suddenly with the echoes of his own laughter and little else. The grin on his face turned rapidly in to a scowl. Patient he might be when the situation called for it but he’d never been a fan of keeping the company of his own thoughts. Books were much more pleasant. Much less likely to spiral out of control in to dangerous places or earn him another lecture from his older brother. Not having his library at hand was certainly the worst part of any mission he’d ever taken, filled as they usually were with down time in which he had little to do but plan his next move or stare aimlessly at the surroundings.

As much as it would probably be more interesting to wander off and explore how far back these caves actually went he didn’t think it was in his best interests to take the chance at getting lost. If nothing else Madara would definitely tell on him when they got back to the village.

For a minute or so their little cavern was filled with the rustling of Madara settling himself down to sleep, wrenching the blankets off again when he realized he hadn’t put away all the medical supplies, then fussing at them to cover himself a second time. Once he finally settled down for good there was nothing but the sound of the fire crackling merrily away. Sealed off as they were from the rest of the world, the fire was their only source of light. If not for the fact that the caves obviously went pretty deep in to the mountain it would have been a very poor idea indeed to let it keep burning away all their oxygen. Tobirama was grateful he didn’t need to put it out. Aside from giving him something to listen to besides the inside of his own head it also gave him something to look at. Or rather it gave him a bit of light by which to stare off in his partner’s direction, studying the length of Madara's body and the shapes he made under the regulation wool blanket.

Not a good idea. Definitely not a good idea. Tobirama jerked his eyes away as soon as he realized what he was doing. Better if there had been no fire. He’d rather be blind for lack of light and leave himself at the mercy of the Sharingan for seeing any possible threats than to sit here and stare across the snowy rock like some lovelorn maiden. No matter what discoveries had been made that day they were not some pair of star crossed lovers. There was no need for whatever dramatics his face had just been doing.

Digging both hands in to his eyes with a sigh, Tobirama decided it was probably best if he just went to sleep too. It was still too early for him to be very tired but falling asleep would at least stop him from following wherever the hell his thoughts had just been trying to go. Somewhere much too thespian for his tastes. He wasn't his brother, after all, there was no need for him to sit here and analyze his feelings or some other such nonsense. If the fire burnt down while they slept and he woke to darkness, well, he did still have Madara with him; just because he was rightfully leery of the Sharingan’s powers didn’t mean he was above taking advantage of them when he needed to. Perhaps a little mean when the man was injured by, hey, he wasn’t the one who could see in the dark and that was hardly his own fault.

Another sigh caught at the edges of his teeth and slipped out sounding more like a hiss when he pushed himself up on to his feet, striding over towards their packs with careful footsteps. There was no telling what sort of uneven ground could be hiding under all this snow. So far away from the dancing flames his already poor vision was even worse so at first Tobirama assumed that Madara had simply kicked everything out of place while looking for the bandages. It wasn’t until he gathered all of the packs together and dug through every one of them that he realized one very important item was missing.

His eyes snapped over to the prone figure only feet away. Madara lay stretched out and perfectly still on top of his bed roll. Or, more accurately, the only bedroll. In all the kerfuffle of their client running off and the avalanche trapping them in it appeared they had lost not only some of the food they’d been carrying but also their second sleeping mat.

If not for the snow on the ground it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. He still had a blanket and it wasn’t like he’d never bedded down for the night without something comfortable to lie on, catching a few hours up a tree whenever he had to and doing so without complaint. The problem was that lying down on frozen rock had only one outcome and with both of them already injured in various ways he certainly couldn’t take the risk of waking up with pneumonia when there was a perfectly viable - if crushingly embarrassing - solution snoozing peacefully right there. He really hoped Madara wasn’t too comfy just yet.

“What?” his partner snarled when he was nudged lightly with one foot.

“Shove over,” Tobirama demanded.

“The fuck? There is literally a whole cave of space, go make your bed somewhere else.”

“Can’t. I have to share your bed so shove over, Uchiha.”

Madara snapped upright so fast they both heard something in his back pop, though neither paid it much attention. “You fucking what now?”

“There appears to be a distinct lack of a second bedroll anywhere so unless you want me sneezing all over your bandages when I inevitably have to change them you will shove the hell over.” Tobirama crossed both arms over his chest like they could hold in all the confusing emotions trying very hard to bubble their way to the surface.

He wasn’t sure what to think of the way Madara’s jaw hung open wordlessly, couldn’t properly make out the nuances of that expression without more light to see by. Maybe if he weren’t standing at such an angle as to throw the other man in shadow- but to step aside now so he could see better would be to admit how bad his eyes really were and that was a weakness he’d never bothered to share even with his own brother. He settled instead for standing his ground until that rounded jaw snapped shut again for Madara to harrumph loudly.

“Fucking- are you serious? This is ridiculous! Where did the other bedroll go?”

“Probably lost in the snow somewhere but I would honestly much rather be sleeping right now than trying to guess at things I may never have an answer to. So. Shove. Over. I will not say it again.”

Ignoring Madara’s voice shouting in his ear was as easy as tuning him out, a feat barely comparable to the task of tuning out Hashirama in the middle of high drama. Tobirama untied his armor and set it all aside carefully. By the time he turned back he noticed that, although the screaming hadn’t so much as paused, Madara had gone ahead and moved over a few inches anyway. He did give vent to a few choked noises when Tobirama slid in under the covers with him but it wasn’t difficult to parse out why. Tobirama was still up on one elbow when he paused to examine their situation.

Which way was he supposed to face? They would both be warmer if he faced inwards and curled himself around Madara’s back but such a position felt much too intimate. Facing away from each other would be blessedly less intimate but there wasn’t exactly a whole lot of space on the mat beneath them and it would take only a single shift for one of them to roll away from the other, taking all the blankets with them. Sleeping on his back was generally the way he preferred but, again, space was the main issue. He would have to lay half on the snow to do that.

“Just...just pick something and go to sleep,” Madara grumbled.

“Eager to cuddle?” Tobirama snapped at him, a response born more of habit than any particular ire.

“Fuck off!”

Just for that Tobirama slumped down on to his right side and made sure to curl in as close as possible, grinning viciously to himself as the other man stiffened noticeably. He himself was far from immune to the awkwardness but petty spite had always driven him faster than any care for his own comfort. If Madara hated this then he would lie here awake all night before he rolled over to make them both comfortable.

It would have been nice, he admitted silently after several minutes, having enough mercy in his soul to relent and just roll over. Tomorrow promised to be an absolute bastard of a day, not least because the task of digging them out of this place would undoubtedly fall mostly on his own shoulders. He definitely could use some rest before tackling that. Instead he lay there with eyes wide open staring at the back of Madara’s head and wondering what reactions he might get if he pulled on some of that bristling hair. Almost as though the man could hear his thoughts Madara curled in to himself a little tighter. The movement was an innocent one. The way it pushed Madara’s rump in to the cradle of Tobirama’s hips was most decidedly not an innocent result even if it was obviously unintentional.

“Nnngg!?”

“Very intelligent,” Tobirama breathed, not wanting to speak louder for fear the sudden rush of want running through him might be heard in his voice.

“That wasn’t- I didn’t- fuck off, Senju!”

“I will have you know that it is taking all of my energy not to instinctually respond with an implication you would rather I fuck you instead.”

Madara’s screech could probably be heard through the several feet of snow blocking their cave entrance. “It doesn’t count if you still say it you idiot!”

Yet for all the screaming protests he went on to ring both of their ears with, Madara’s reaction notably lacked one thing. He never once tried to move away. Oh he waved the arm he wasn’t lying on and jawed until Tobirama began to wonder if he wasn’t wearing down the bones of his own skull from overuse but not once did he so much as tilt his hips in to a different position.

Such telling body language gave Tobirama all the clues he needed to figure out exactly what he’d missed in their earlier conversation. It was possible these types of clues were something he’d been missing in all of their past interactions, body language he never noticed simply because he tried to look at the other man as little as possible. To his shame such a habit had been built entirely on the premise that Madara hated it when people didn’t pay attention to him. From now on he promised himself he would pay closer attention - even if he might not let Madara see such efforts. Just because he was begrudgingly interested didn’t mean he was willing to set that spite down just yet. Some habits took longer to break than others.

And some would never fade but maybe that was more of a personal failing than anything else.

“White flag.” The words were out and hanging in the air before Tobirama even realized his mouth had decided to speak before his brain had a proper sentence ready. In front of him Madara stiffened impossibly further.

“The hell are you on about?”

“I...am waving a white flag. We both need rest. This is, ah, comfortable enough. Let’s just put any further arguments or conversations on hold until tomorrow and go to sleep.”

Madara seemed to chew that over for a moment until he asked very quietly, “Like this?”

“I am comfortable if you are.”

He half expected to have the man roll over and deck him in the face for such presumptions. When the silence began to stretch he wondered if he was meant to take it as agreement until he heard very quiet words drift back to caress his ears, a softer sound than he had ever heard from this man in his life.

“Your arms’ll go numb sleeping like that. Might as well...might as well stretch them out.”

“Ah. I didn’t presume-”

Tobirama cleared his throat before very carefully shifting back to make room for where both of his arms were folded tightly against Madara’s back. When he stretched one out neither of them said anything about Madara lifting his head to make room for it beneath the pillow they shared. And when he stretched the other out with very delicate movements they both remained utterly silent as he laid it gently across Madara’s waist.

It was the subtle relaxing of all the muscles pressed up against his front that finally made everything click. Oh but he was a blind man. A very blind man with terrible vision to boot. If anyone asked he was going to blame every misunderstanding on the man in his arms with zero shame.

Tomorrow they would wake to fight their way past the snow and put in at least a token effort to find their wayward client. Somewhere along the way they would search for the supplies that got lost in the shuffle. But as he closed his eyes Tobirama smiled to realize neither one of them was likely to put a whole lot of work in to finding that second bedroll they had lost, not when it seemed their newly discovered bond was something Madara wanted much more than he’d let on before.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #soulmate au #fanfiction #madatobi gift exchange 2021

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lokilickedme · 3 years

Text

Sneak Peek

I don’t have a new chapter for this week (natural disasters and all that) but I do have this excerpt from my upcoming new fic Stop The World (And Melt With You), which will start posting after The Department concludes. It’s a Tom Hiddleston/OFC/Hozier fic centered in the music industry and revolving around rival artist managers that used to be married years ago, but split up due to the pressures of their respective careers and a scandal neither of them has ever quite come to terms with.

After successfully avoiding each other for the better part of a decade following their messy divorce, Thomas Casey and Kinsie O’Dell suddenly and unhappily find themselves having to work together again when their clients, who were likewise a couple in the past, start an artistic collaboration at the behest of their record labels.

Jaimie is a wild Irish rockstar with a laundry list of bad habits, Arielle is an Italian pop diva with the attitude and spoiled entitlement of a rabid chihuahua. Before either of them was famous they were a couple, but a vicious split sent them in opposite directions, fighting endlessly over music they wrote while they were together. Now that they’re both big names in the industry, the battle over rights to their old work is raging. And the public loves it. So when their record labels insist on a studio collaboration followed by a world tour as a duo, Jaimie and Arielle start to fall back in love...much to the absolute horror of their managers.

Thomas and Kinsie have no choice but to keep doing their jobs, babysitting the hot blooded youngsters while they reattach to each other and doing their best to avoid the same fate themselves. Will they manage to keep their distance from each other despite long nights on the tour bus, endless hotel rooms, and being in each other’s faces nonstop for the better part of a year while their young charges croon about love and passion on stage in a new city every night? Will their past be a protective lesson to them, or will the memory of the good times override their common sense and good judgement?

Moving forward using all my breath Making love to you was never second best I saw the world crashing all around your face

I’ll stop the world and melt with you

- Modern English, 1982

***************************************************************

"We were good. For a long while there, we were real damn good, weren't we babe."

"Eh, it depends on what your definition of good is." I gave him a sideways glance, careful to avoid those hot blue eyes that I could feel boring into my face. That was the only way I’d ever been able to accurately describe the way he looked at people - bored, as in drove his gaze straight through them, leaving devastation in the wake of that billion dollar stare. "But yeah, we were pretty good. Until you cheated."

He sat back with a loud huff and a grimly muttered Here we go as he raked his hands through his hair. It was shaggy again, making him look more like the music industry road-managerial type he was on the surface and less of the sophisticated gentleman I knew he was underneath it. "How many times do we have to go through this? I never cheated on you and you know it."

"Oh sorry, I meant to say Until the allegations that you cheated became too convincing to deny a second longer - "

"Oh for fucks sake Kinsie, I never slept with that woman!"

"And I never slept with Jaimie, so I guess we're both innocent."

His eyes went wide, and I swear to god his mouth went slack till it almost fell open. Misdirection had always been my strong point, and he never in all the years I’d known him had ever learned how to either anticipate or counter it.

"You slept with Jaimie?"

"I just said I didn't, weren't you listening?"

"He's...he's fifteen, no wait he's twenty years younger than you!"

"Good thing I didn't sleep with him then, that would be gross." I sneaked a peek over the top of my Coke, slurping so that the ice made rude noises. He always hated that. The man was all but sputtering with rage, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair standing on end where he kept dragging his hands through it roughly. "Oh come on, I'm just as likely to sleep with Jaimie as you are to sleep with Arielle."

"I don't sleep with Arielle!"

"Good because you'd be in jail if you did."

He didn't say anything else - I knew him well enough to know he'd hit his limit and that his next action would be to get up and storm out of the room, slamming the door dramatically behind him. He never could beat me in a game of words, not once in twenty years. It was the thing about me that frustrated him the most. And making unnecessary noise was his only way to strike back at it.

"Don't bang the door on your way out, Jaimie's asleep next door."

"Fuck Jaimie!"

I gave him a wink over the top of my cup around another rude slurp. "I thought we'd established that wasn't an issue of contention."

The level of red in his cheeks was almost alarming. He stared at me for several more long seconds, then turned and strode purposefully to the door, grabbed the knob, and yanked it open. He stood there glaring at me from the doorway until I shook my head and sighed.

"Don't you do it, Thomas Casey."

His eyes narrowed, and the look of sheer malicious glee that twisted his lips into a vengeful grin was almost lost to the door slamming shut so hard the framed sunset on the wall across from the bathroom shuddered on its nail. And then I heard him beating on the door to the room next to mine, just to add insult to injury.

Goddammit. As much as I loved irritating that man, I hated the long night that was coming even more. In just about thirty seconds my phone was going to ring and my very awake, very hungry charge was going to complain about the noise and ask me to order room service and watch movies with him for the rest of the night. It never failed. Jaimie’s insomnia was legendary, as was his ability to eat like a rhino despite resembling not much more than a hairy stop sign. A familiar impotent rage overtook me and I yanked the door open to step out into the hall and yell at the retreating backside of the man I'd once loved hard enough to marry.

"You better get your goddamned little princess under control, Casey! Now!!"

He yelled back without turning around.

"Maybe if you'd make your rock star keep his dick in his pants we wouldn't be having this problem!"

"Arielle is a hack!"

"Jaimie's a fucking pothead!"

He turned the corner at the end of the hall, and god help me I waited, half expecting and fully hoping he would pause just long enough for dramatic effect before turning around and coming back. I wasn't even ashamed of the fact that I planned to push the door open and be on the bed before he even made it.

But he didn't come back, and after several long seconds I realized I was making a fool of myself. Waiting for Thomas Casey had been my downfall all those years ago and it hurt just a little bit to see myself so willing to do it now, a decade down the road.

Damn him.

The door next room up clicked open and Jaimie stood there in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes and peering down the hall to see what I was looking at.

"Somebody kicked my door."

I looked at him, at his sleepy face with his thick glasses askew in testament to the fact that he'd fallen asleep reading again, and stepped aside so he could go into my room. "I know baby. It was just Casey."

His face brightened. For some stupid reason he liked Casey. "Yeah? You two been hanging out?"

"Just business."

"Huh." He shuffled past me into the room, making himself comfortable on my kingsize before the door even fell shut behind me, already clicking through the channels on the TV and helping himself to what was left of my Coke. "You two were good together, you should try to get along."

Good together. That was the second time I'd heard those words come from someone's mouth tonight in reference to me and Thomas Casey, and it was just about two times too many. I sat down on the edge of the bed with a tragic sigh.

"Scoot over sweetie.”

#Hiddleston fic #Hozier fic #new work #coming soon

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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Humans are Space Orcs, “Fighting with Aliens”

So I wrote this to address a very interesting difference between humans and aliens because I realized it could potentially cause serious conflict if an outsider would to look on. Has fight scenes in it obviously, and blood, so there is that. I can foresee some of you not liking the outcome, so if you are easily bothered, probably don’t read this one.

Where was that man! She swore, every morning he was somewhere different. Like what kind of person has a schedule THAT erratic. She wondered how he even survived as a person without structure in his life. But then again, that’s what she was here for, to bring structure, and he very much desperately needed it.

She was determined that by the time she was done, he would have a schedule predictable to the minute.

That was, of course, if she could find him.

She swore that one of these days she was going to have to lojack that man, fit him with some kind of tracking system in his sleep so she could find him every morning.

Unfortunately, right now she was on her own, and was forced to start from the top down starting with the bridge then moving down to the administrative deck.

She rather hoped he might already be in his office, but when she found nothing she definitely kicked herself for being that stupid. Admiral Vir was NEVER in his office. In fact, he was notorious for avoiding it whenever he could.

Then again, Admiral Vir was notorious for a lot of things, and that was included but not limited to avoiding his office, wearing heelies on the job, making horrible dad jokes, blasting music on the bridge, and eating all the popsicles.

Simon herself was notorious for almost the exact opposite, her perfectly pressed uniform, her ability to be one time down to the minute, her tendency to get stressed when things didn’t go to plan, and her surprisingly frequent inability to understand the Admiral’s jokes.

It made her feel sort of bad considering that Even the little alien doctor Krill seemed to get it, and if there was anyone on the ship that she could understand, it was him. He had a schedule like a rock solid wall of dependability, a mind like a steel trap, and a sense of humor so dry and clever it ALSO went over her head.

She turned the corner brooding her face pulled down into a frown nearly running into a figure rushing in the opposite direction. She had to leap out of the way in surprise as Dr. katie, the dark haired bespectacled attending physician, yelped in shock.

“Dr Katie!”

Dr. katie put a hand over her chest, “Simon, you scared me half to death.”

Simon rubbed the back of her head a bit, “Sorry, um, do you have an idea where the Admiral is?”

“Oh Adam, yes I know where he is. I was actually headed down there right now if you want to join.”

Simon nodded and fell into step beside the tall doctor.

“I can never find him in the morning.”

“Yeah, no that does sound like Adam. If it helps, just head down to krill’s office one of these days, and we should be able to give you administrative access to his tracking system.”

“Wait, you-”

“Yeah sort of a precaution after he kept getting kidnapped so much, plus he has a habit of hiding when he gets stressed, which isn’t so much a problem these days, but in the past it was a real bitch to find him.”

Simon shook her head in near amazement as she followed Dr. Katie down a set of stairs and onto the crew deck.

They walked for a few meters when the sound of metal ringing on metal reached her ears.

She trailed after Dr. katie as they came around the corner into the massive Rec room at the center of the crew deck. She didn’t come here much and so would never have thought to look. She was rather awkward around people and didn’t know how to talk to them in a normal manner outside work related topics.

She had always been horrible talking to people, getting to know them, or bonding with them in general.

Humans weren’t exactly easy to understand.

So she tended to spend most of her time locked away in her office or in her room, or sitting on the bridge where she could work, where things were procedural, and memorizing notes and lists was a strength. When it came to work there were always protocols, measures to get things done, and a strict adherence to he rules. When it came to people, there was no telling what they were going to do: the Admiral being the prime example.

Generally Admiral Vir was not the kind of person she would like to spend time with. He was extroverted, outgoing, erratic, and high energy, but he was a very empathetic man, and he made up for most of the other things with patience and kindness towards her even when she didn’t allow it for herself.

In return, she had put all her effort into trying to understand him. She had observed, and watched and made lists and taken notes. She knew what he liked and what he didn’t like. She knew what people on the crew were his closest friends, she knew his favorite places to spend time.

She had a detailed profile written up about him in her personal log -- which never occurred to her could be misconstrued as being super super creepy.

Those were the reasons why she knew he was a science fiction nerd, he had a collection of old movies from the information age, he liked a mix of alternative, hard rock, heavy metal, and punk, when he ate his food he insisted on eating the items in order from least favorite to most favorite, he benched 270, and he talked with his family every friday night at six.

Of course that wasn’t exactly a comprehensive list, but just things she knew off the top of her head to better understand the man that she was working for She hoped that the more that she knew one day she would be able to understand him and work well with him without forcing him to hold her hand when it came to running his daily routine.

However, when she stepped into the rec room, she received a shock that she had not expected or really appreciated.

She wasn’t a big fan of surprises.

Yet this was, indeed, a surprise.

The rec room was large and circular inhabiting the very center of the fourth deck. The outer ring contained chairs and tables and TVs and pool tables, all of the sort of recreational things that normal people liked to do in their downtime, but in the center of that there was another large ring, bounded by walls on all sides and with benches looking inward.

Simon hadn’t been sure what that was for when she was first brought aboard the ship, though now she was getting a first hand demonstration as to its use.

Admiral Vir stood in the circle, lightly dressed and wearing hard leather padding on his head, shoulders, chest, arms, and upper legs. In one hand he was holding a metal staff just a little taller than he was.

His knees were bent in a low crouch, and the staff was held at a low forward angle.

On the other side of the ring stood one of the Drev clan members.

Flipping through her mental notes Simon remembered her name as Sunny or Chalan in her native language. She was the Chief weapons officer aboard the ship, was a mechanic, and rather short of a Drev. her and the Admiral tended to spend a lot of time together, and so she assumed that they were close friends.

However the part of this that surprised her tended towards the fact that, she didn’t know that Admiral Vir knew how to use a quarterstaff.

She froze in her place just as one of the watching drev -- a large red one named Cannon pronounced Kanan in his native tongue, slammed a metal spear against the ground to mark the beginning of the round..

Simon yeled in shock and surprise as the two charged at each other with roars, of what seemed to be rage -- though she had never been good at divining emotions.

Metal slammed against metal as the two crashed into each other. Sparks shed out to either side as they exchange a flurry of blows. He struck to the right, she parried to the left, she brought the right side of her spear up to try and catch him off guard, he spun away ducking under and jabbing forward. She blocked the jab to glance off to her right, and kicked out at him with one of her feet.

He dodged to the side and aimed a sheering blow at her head, which she caught last second on the shaft of her spear.

The fury of their fight left Simon reeling in shock and surprise. They didn’t pull their punches, they didn’t aim for the body only. This was full force, full speed, real weapons no holds barred combat!

In the stands Drev cheered them on with great enthusiasm. The humans that were watching had mixed feelings. Ramirez and Maverick were standing with the Drev screaming at Adam to get his head in the game and not be a wuss. Other humans were grimacing and wincing.

Dr. Krill st to the side looking exasperated at the same time he appeared at least sort of worried.

The Celzex onlookers were cheering with the frenzy of the Drev, yelling insults and encouragement to their favorite contender. A few of them were sitting on the shoulders of other enthusiastic, or, in some cases, concerned humans. THe FInnari huddled together around one specific human who looked to be having the time of her life comforting the tiny creatures.

And the Tesraki were nowhere to be seen, probably hiding or run away somewhere to count money.

Adam ducked under a cything blow that would have sent him straight to the emergency room and cut upward quickly, catching Sunny hard on the lower arm. She backed away showing no sign other that the blow had managed to phase her.

From there the fighting only grew more intense. From across the room Simon could hear the swish of the metal as it cythed through the air.

The clattering of steel hitting steel was practically deafening. SHe had no idea how the two of them were still fighting without their hands hurting.

And then Sunny feinted to her left passing into his blind spot where the epatch was.

He turned to face her, but she had already been moving.

A loud THWACK rent the air.

Admiral Vir’s feet left the ground as he was pitched back violently a good three feet before slamming into the ground. The metal rod was jostled from his hands and went clattering across the ring.

The cr4owd had taken to their feet as a chorus of sympathetic noises rose from both sides.

Simon stood in shock for a half moment as Admiral Vir groaned and crawled to his hands and knees.

Sunny approached quarterstaff raised.

Simon raced forward and jumped into the ring, hands held up, “STOP!”

Sunny pulled to a halt looking confused.

The crowd booed.

“What are you doing!” her voice went up a few octaves, not sure what was going on. Why was no one trying to stop this. Admiral Vir sat back on his heels, wiping blood from his mouth and chin, which was dripping down from his nose, “Simon.”

The Drev above her were frowning, “Get out of the ring lieutenant.”

“No, what-”

“You're interrupting a duel, get out of the ring.”

Simon turned in a confused circle, “But-”

Admiral vir stood, holding his nose waving a hand at the Drev, “Timeout guys, she’s not familiar with Drev war practices, so give her a break.”

The Drev backed down a little but still looked a little miffed as Admiral grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the circle, “May I talk to you for a few minutes.” He marched her out of the circle, a hand on her arm, face still bleeding. Katie offered him a gauze pad, which he held to his face as he walked her oer to a table and sat her down.

“Simon, I may have failed to mention this rule to you, but it is highly improper to intervene in a drev dueling match.”

Simon shook her head still reeling with confusion and horror, “But, Admiral, she hit you! Under section two subsection b of the UNSC manual it describes an act of violence on a UNSC ship as domestic battery.”

He coked an eyebrow, “You think Sunny just committed domestic assault, like punching your wife or husband or something.”

“Well yeah! Since we live on a ship, the UNSC classifies any aggressive action as domestic in nature.”

He sighed, “Simon, I am the leader of a Drev clan, I was adopted by two, which means I am a Drev and I must abide by their customs and rules.” He went to place a hand on her arm, but drew back after a moment knowing that she didn’t like to be touched, “Look, Simon, I know this is hard to understand, but the Drev aren't like us. To be Drev, to be friends with them, to be in a relationship with one if that were the case, means letting go of some preconceived human notions.”

“But hitting each other is not ok! She insisted

Admiral Vir shook his head in a long suffering sort of way, “Simon, you're looking at this through the scope of being human. If it were a human that hit me, by all means lock them in the brig. Because when humans are aggressive it is attached to anger, or frustration or aggression. But when Drev fight it isn’t attached to emotion, in fact their mating practices require them to duel each other. Drev relationships seen by humans are often violent and aggressive, but it's part of who and what they are. To them something like this is a sign of trust and friendship. You cannot judge them based on human standards any more than they can judge us based on our human ones.”

“But I-”

“Simon, I agreed to this. I walked in here this morning and I said, hey sunny want to beat the tar out of me. To them an offer like that is a good thing, its….. Well it means much more than what it means for humans. Besides, once upon a time I lived in a Drev village for a few months and was beaten up by pretty much everyone I Came in contact with. From their language and their culture, I have since gained a much different understanding of fighting. I have a different relationship with it now.”

Simon shook her head, this was difficult to compute. People hitting each other was bad, that was a rule, that was something that was black and white to her. She didn’t understand how this man could consider it a good thing, or even as a sign of friendship. It didn’t make sense in the framework of everything she understood.

He sighed, “Look, how about this, you trust me to know what is right and wrong when it comes to the Drev. Working with them I expect things to be aggressive, I expect them to be violent. Assume that everything they do is a low level of aggressive. A lot of people would look at my friendship with Sunny and think that something is wrong with it based on how it looks from a human perspective, but both of us have made compromises, and it is actually a very healthy thing we have going. Honestly if she pulled her punches and didn’t hit me in the dueling ring I would be offended.

Simon still wasn’t sure about this.

He tapped his fingers on the table, “Ok, this might help, the Drev society is based on a very specific set of rules. You should go talk to Cannon about it. Sunny isn’t going to hit me outside of a duel. To strike someone in anger is considered to be bad as well. As far as outside the ring, Drev are expected to be bossy, pushy, stubborn, and mildly aggressive, so Anything they do that falls within a scale of mild is alright.

He stood, “Now if you'll excuse me. I have a Drev’s Ass to kick.”

Dr. Katie took the gauze from his hand as he clamberted back into the ring, blood still staining his mouth and chin.

Simon watched nervously as sunny spun her staff around.

“Done taking your little break.”

He cracked his neck, “Done taking my break, and to make it even, I’ll start from the ground.”

She snorted and Cannon slammed his spear into the ground once again.

Admiral Vir rolled to the side, picking up his spear on the way as Sunny charged after.

She cut down towards his face, and he caught it on the flat of his spear kicking upwards and catching her in the knee.

She scrambled back.

He lept to his feet.

The fight went on like this.

Sunny got caught in the face once a shallow cut bleeding orange down her cheek, but instead of growing angry her eyes seemed to brighten with excitement. Admiral Vir took hits on the shoulder and the leg. Sunny got hit in the stomach and chest.

The fight continued, Admiral Vir was thrown to the ground. The Celzex were screaming in delight.

Sunny charged, but the admiral rolled forward thrusting the spear to roll along the ground before him.

Sunny was to late, her foot landed right on the shaft of the spear, and the spear rolled. Her leg slipped out from underneath her and she went crashing to the ground.

Admiral Vir leaped forward spinning the spear behind his back.

The room went quiet.

Admiral Vir Sat stradling Sunny’s chest one end of the quarterstaff to her throat.

He leaned in a little, “Better luck next time.”

The crowd Cheered.

Sunny raised her hands, “Good fight for a puny runt.”

“I could say the same about you he teased, rolling off to the side.”

Simon wasn’t really sure what to make of any of this. She still hadn’t managed to reconcile the fact that hitting wasn’t necessarily a bad thing because when Admiral Vir came out of the circle he was limping and still wiping blood from his face. If she had seen that on the street down on earth she would be very worried about him. She would call the cops.

But he was also smiling walking with Sunny as she limped right along with him.

The way they looked at each other was…. strange .

She couldn’t place it.

She would need to rework her profile of him just a little. And she would have to rework her profile of the Drev. it seemed as if she was going to have to learn a whole new set of social rules for the different alien species.

She sighed in frustration.

She hadn’t even figured humans out yet and now she was expected to do more.

This was going to be a very long deployment.

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