#if we ever have to eat the rich i am sparing him and that’s that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

escapetheshark · 3 months

Text

Genre: smut; angst; supernatural; horror

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem reader

Word count: 2,8k

Warnings: adult language, smut, blood and gore, raw meat, masturbation

Summary: Tired of being exploited, two low-wage workers bond over their desire to eat the rich. Quite literally.

A/N: I don't know, lads. Happy late Halloween? This is pretty disturbing by SKZ fanfic standards, you have been warned. Dead dove, do not eat. It is chaptered, but it's gonna be short and I promise I'll update Off The Deep End soon.

Chapter 1 of ?

The rat race. I am not caught up in it. What I am caught up on is the need to afford basic necessities. I have no desire to climb the ladder, I simply desire to exist comfortably. But comfort does not desire to exist in me, as is proven by the excruciating torsion in my spine, as I pick up yet another wet rag off the floor. It's been a particularly difficult day between bags full of dirty linen, wet towels and toilet brushes. It aches, it canes, it's hot and sticky and uncomfortable and I have no choice but to endure it, even though I'm tired and hungry.

"Excuse me," it's faint, the voice. Like its owner can sense the sleeping bear within me and does not wish to disturb it. I don't spare it any mind as I lazily shift to the side to allow him to pass, glancing at the dress-pants-clad round buttocks as the man pushes his little mini-bar trolley through the corridor. Nice, I catch myself muttering, the glance turned into a gaze. The encounter is quickly forgotten, however, as a ping on my phone snaps me back to reality - oop, there goes gravity. Sadly, there is no mum's spaghetti this time. Can you please bring down the linen bag from the 5th floor? The sigh that leaves my throat is more like a pterodactyl screech as I saunter away into the storage room.

It's hard not to sulk into the barely comfortable chair, staring at the plate full of dried-out croissants - guest breakfast leftovers, pondering whether or not I should just wrap one of them in a napkin and take it home, like a bottom feeder who can't afford fresh croissants from the bakery. Which is true. Still, having to acknowledge it so blatantly makes my head hurt. Fuck it, I'll put it into the toaster for dinner.

"Rough day?"

"As rough as all other days," I shrug, not sparing the man even a look. But he demands to be looked at when he loudly places a mug on the table in front of me and sits across from me. It's the mini-bar boy, still wearing his pristine white button-up shirt, yet his clip-on bowtie has gotten lost somewhere and the two top buttons are undone, his milky skin peaking through. "You?"

"Yep."

I can't help but stare at his neck, skin supple and pale, prominent veins adorning it so purely. I get horny when I'm tired and angry, maybe that's why this random co-worker I hardly ever talk to, who doesn't even look particularly appetising to me most of the time suddenly seems like one hell of a snack. The whole damn meal, even.

The steam from the hot drink he's placed in front of me fogs up my glasses as I inhale the scent of lemon herbal tea, the fancy stuff we have for guests that we're not supposed to drink ourselves. "Cheers," I simply say, looking at the man.

Perhaps it's awfully cliché, but it does feel like time has come to a halt now that I've sat down for a minute and put down the mop. I haven't dared to look in a mirror yet, but I can imagine my hair completely out of place and dishevelled, my face red from the heat and exertion, eyes dead behind my thick glasses. In front of me, however, Chris - I'm pretty sure his name is Chris - looks nearly immaculate with his carefully combed hair, perfectly rosy cheeks and a slight glint in his eyes. He must have a good home life, I think to myself, or he doesn't watch the news.

"I spend 8 hours a day cleaning beautiful bathtubs, yet I go home and take a 5-minute shower in nearly cold water because my water heater has been fucked for God knows how long and these cunts don't pay me enough to pay rent and bills, get groceries and get shit fixed."

Chris seems caught off-guard by my sudden statement and I'd feel awkward if I wasn't too exhausted to fully care about a co-worker's opinion. He takes a sip of his tea and I do the same, both hands holding onto the warm mug in an attempt to keep them busy. "These shoes are so fucking uncomfortable," he confesses, his eyes on mine, a certain mischief glistening on them. "I spend 8 hours a day pushing around a trolley full of expensive alcohol, yet I go home to shitty supermarket beer."

"Touché, friend!"

He glances at his wristwatch before leisurely getting up, walking to the sink and washing his mug, then grabbing his jacket and backpack off a shelving unit full of other employees' personal belongings. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, friend. I have some shitty beer to drink." I look at my watch too and let out a beastly yawn. The bus is a few minutes away and it's way too cold to wait at the bus stop, so I sip my tea slowly while mindlessly scrolling on my phone, desperate for some kind of stimulation or excitement, but all I see are photos of babies, cats, dogs and food.

It's dark by the time I get home to my overpriced, tiny and desperately needs TLC studio apartment and my stomach is growling, I haven't eaten in Lord knows how many hours, save for the dried croissant, and even the uncooked mince in my fridge is starting to seem appetising. Cooking is exhausting, ordering in is expensive, the grocery store is a bit too far away to justify walking just for a frozen pizza, and the dairy is closed by now. What else do I have? Stale bread, half a pot of vegemite, no butter… Why is that raw meat actually feeling like it would go down? No cooking time, no clean-up. Is raw pork really that bad for you? That's crazy, maybe what I need is a shower, a four-finger self-loving session and to just fucking sleep. Sleep for dinner, a poverty classic.

Porn is useless these days, ever since I read that article about how porn stars are mistreated and the websites are full of non-consensual bulshit, I can't even watch it anymore, let alone get off. My fucking hunger for knowledge always ruins my life… I could go read some smut, but I always end up criticising the poor grammar and spelling and unrealistic scenes instead of getting wet. I haven't fucked in a while, so I don't even remember what that feels like, what a cock looks like, the warmth of someone's fingers pushing inside of me, stretching me out… Chris. The hot mini-bar boy from work. He has nice fingers, right? Despite being short and kind of average, he's generally easy to look at. Just some guy, but he has dimples when he smiles and there is definitely a glint of mischief in those brown eyes of his, not to mention his arse looks phenomenal in those black dress pants he always wears. Yeah, Chris will do. The awkwardness of thinking about a co-worker while masturbating doesn't last long, it eventually fades when my finger easily finds the exact spot in my clit that makes it feel good. Normally, I'd half-heartedly rub on it for a while until it makes my walls clench around nothing and call it a day, but today I'm in the mood to prolong it a bit, make it a bit of a show. Where did I put my dildo? I haven't used that one in a while and it was far too pricey to be collecting dust.

My stomach growling is slightly distracting, even with my arsehole full and my clit being fustigated by the calloused pads of my fingers, hips rotating as I desperately try to swallow the dildo whole, my pussy throbs around nothing, empty and wet. Why I chose today to try shoving something up my ass is a mystery, but I couldn't help it, it's like I've been possessed by some kind of hungry monster who won't be satisfied with a 5-minute session of clit rubbing accompanied by some run-of-the-mill vaginal insertion. No, today I crave more, insatiable, for whatever goddamn reason. I have to cover my mouth with my free hand, lest my desperate groans alert the neighbours, and the second I imagine Chris lying on top of me, cock where the dildo currently is, biting my neck, I crumble. It travels up my body like lightning, I've never come this hard in my entire life and I can't even process how I feel about it as I see those white dots behind my shut lids.

Fuck!

Everything feels fuzzy when the alarm inevitably pulls me from the sweet embrace of unconsciousness. I forget about my weird dream almost immediately, but not before noting that I should probably never go to bed that hungry again, because it definitely fucked me up. At least it's the last day at work before my regularly scheduled time to do chores around the house, also known as days off. There's a weird smell floating around the apartment, but I chalk it up to mould or some kind of plumbing issue that will never get solved before hopping in the shower, my arsehole is still sore from last night's treatment. What got into me, I will never understand. I'd rather forget about it, but the ache won't let me. There's blood circling the drain, I'm not sure where it could be coming from. Did I cut myself? Is it my period? Did I tear something inside me when I stretched my sphincter with a dildo? What the-

Along with the blood, I see blurry chunks of… something. Meat? Am I peeling away? Panic starts to set in as I search every inch of naked skin for a deep cut or something, is it my ass? Is my ass actually that badly bruised it's somehow peeling away? The smell gets more intense the more chunks fall into the drain, causing it to clog, water pooling on the floor. I bend down, my body squeezed against the too-narrow shower walls, I can't see very well without my glasses but I hesitantly reach my hand towards the drain and it feels absolutely abhorrent, the texture is so nasty I nearly add vomit to the mixture. I bring it to my nose, the stench is beyond agonising. Is this- is this mince pork? Why is there minced pork on my drain? I can't handle it anymore, and I feel my insides spill on the shower tile, unable to flow anywhere, I can barely breathe and my head is spinning.

By the time I come to my senses, I'm lying on a bed that isn't mine, and I know this because the mattress feels way too thin and the air doesn't feel stuffy and mould-ridden. I hear voices around me that I don't recognise and opening my eyes is futile since I have no idea where my glasses are. I try reaching out for them, surely they'd be on some sort of bedsible table, but I immediately feel a sting on my hand and something attached to it.

"Oh you're up," a female voice says, but all I can make out of the woman is her small stature and the fact that she's wearing something teal-coloured. "Here," she said finally handing me my glasses so that I could see my depressing surroundings - a hospital room, sterile and blunt as they tend to be. "You fainted in the shower, so we got you on IV and just let you sleep it off, we'll need to run some tests just to make sure there's no underlying condition, which doesn't seem to be the case according to your history. You should be released hopefully tomorrow morning."

Although I can definitely see more clearly, I still have no idea what is happening. The last thing I remember is vomiting in the shower, and then I woke up here. I'm not sure I have the energy to piece together the little clues I have, or even think about any clues whatsoever, but I find myself hungry again. My head pangs as I painstakingly get up from the cold hard hospital bed and I drag around the IV in search of a vending machine or a canteen or anything I can eat, my legs weak as the room slowly spins around me. The only thing I can smell is blood and it makes my stomach hurt even more. I get back to my room having found a couple of cardboard-flavoured protein bars, a can of coke and some crackers, but my hunger remains unquenchable and I can't figure out why my stomach won't stop hurting, and I surely don't even wish to think about how I ended up in the hospital to begin with, how would someone even find me in the shower passed out in a pool of my own vomit, and how mortifying the thought of being found in such condition by an actual human being even feels.

By the time the nurse brings me lunch, I am starving like a wolf. It all looks and smells unappetising, nevertheless, I swallow without chewing, inhaling the flavourless rice and meat, using my bare hands to shovel it into my mouth, barely able to take a breath in between. Thankfully, the nurse left and the curtains that separate my section of the room from my neighbour's are drawn shut, or they would think me an animal. I consume the meal within seconds, something I've never been able to muster even at the top of my hunger, yet I crave more. I'm nowhere near satiated and I wonder if I can ask for another portion, but the lack of seasoning does throw me off. My stomach grumbles again, and the last time I tried sleeping it off I ended up in this predicament, plus I'm missing work which means my pay will be even more nauseating than that soggy broccoli I just wolfed down. Speaking of work, when the nurse comes back to retrieve my empty tray, she brings news of a visitor. There he stands, not tall yet somehow mighty, painfully average looking yet the reason I shoved a dildo up my ass last night - I think it was last night, at least.

"How are you feeling," he asks, still standing there like a looming demon, hands in his pockets. This is the first time I see him wearing street clothes as opposed to the penguin uniform. I want to ask why he's visiting me at the hospital, given that we're merely co-workers and have barely exchanged any meaningful conversation in the past few months.

"I'm- I'm alright, I guess. Why are you here?" He chuckles for some reason, dark eyes piercing as always and those pretty dimples of his making an appearance. What he says next leaves me in a state of disarray I've never felt before, humiliated to the bones.

"Well, I did find you naked face down in your own spew, so I thought I'd check on you and make sure you're alive."

And he laughs. He laughs like he knows I'm utterly degraded, IV stuck in my hand, weak and trembling as he confesses to having found me in that state and somehow taken me to the hospital.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone about the raw meat. That's our dirty little secret." And he winks, a shit-eating grin I wouldn't have imagined on such a wet towel of a man.

I'm blinking, fully panicking but afraid to make it a spectacle, I can feel sweat running down my back and my pussy tightens in discomfort. Raw meat? I don't remember any- What exactly happened? The weird dream comes back to me, where I crouched by my open fridge and gobbled down that leftover raw minced pork like a goblin. Then my shower drain clogged in whatever weird bloody substance… No no no no, this can't be real…!

Chris seems amused by my panic as he approaches me, sitting on the fragile hospital bed beside me and leaning in so close I can feel his breath caress my skin and smell his breath when he whispers right in my face. "The cravings. I have them too. You'll get used to it." He leaves at once like he didn't just shift my entire world upside down and make me feel the most humiliated I've ever felt in my entire life. Next, he's gonna tell me he also found me with the dildo up my ass and whimpering his name? But the cravings… What cravings? And he has them too? I feel dizzy and I keep thinking this too is part of that weird, never-ending dream. Come on now, where's my alarm? I'll gladly go to work just this once.

To be continued

#neverendingdreams #n.sft #fanfiction #disturbing #idk how to tag

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space-writes · 1 year

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🎻

(britta you sent this like five minutes after i went to bed TT_TT)

Classics 🎻: a scene that is so timeless you have kept it in your latest drafts in some way shape or form

(for this ask game)

so I did do classics here, but given I've already posted Sorrow's intro, i'm gonna be indulgent and post 'Lucian Gets Scammed By Children (Part The First)'

also, since this is a pretty fun snippet and i figure you'd enjoy it, valloroth tag list, i am waving at you: @cherrybombfangirlwrites, @memento-morri-writes

“Spare some coin, sir?”

Lucian glanced down to see a pair of dirt-streaked, raggedly dressed human children peering up at him. Their grey-green eyes were huge in their pale little faces, gazing with hope as they held out their hands.

“Coin?” he said. The taller child nodded.

“A copper or two, if you’ve any to spare,” she said. “Only for a bit of bread today for me and me brother.”

Lucian gasped. “You mean you haven’t eaten? But it’s past noon!”

She shook her head, tangled hair flying.

“Not today sir. Not...not most days.”

Lucian was outraged. How could such a clearly prosperous town as this let its children starve? Valloroth was meant to be better than Infernus! He pulled three of the four remaining silver from his coin purse.

“Here.” He crouched to press the coins into the little girls hand. “Find someplace safe to stay and eat well. If I had somewhere to take you I would, but I’ve only just arrived here myself.”

The girl eyed the silver as though it might bite her. Her brother leaned over to peer into her palms.

“Flippin’ heck!” he exclaimed. “You rich or something?”

“Or something,” Lucian said evasively. He straightened up, wishing he could do more. But the House Everent treasury had not held much Vallorosian coin and it vanished up here a lot faster than he’d expected. “But, you two live here don’t you? Could you point me in the direction of a tavern, or a guildhall or some such place? Somewhere that I could find work?”

The girl cocked her head.

“Do we look old enough for ale or swords to you?”

“I don’t know, how old are you?” Lucian asked. The girl opened and closed her mouth a few times, then shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter. Probably you want to try the Indigo Goblet. Just keep on going that way,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Old dwarvish place. You can’t miss it.”

“My thanks.” Lucian gave them a polite bow and hurried off in the direction the girl had indicated.

If the enthusiastic noble had glanced back he would have seen the girl and her brother share an incredulous glance before adding the silver to a bulging coin purse hidden beneath the boys ragged shirt. Whilst her brother was tucking the frayed ends back into his trousers, the girl watched after the departing infernii with a shake of her head.

“Tourists.”

#ask game #c: lucian #this is so rough but i refuse to get rid of the running gag of Lucian getting conned by the same children throughout the book #he's such a sheltered baby #valloroth blogging #ask games

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edelweissacermacrophyllum · 1 year

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To what end?

Genesis 47:13-48:22, Proverbs 3:1-10, Matthew 16:21-17:13

The story of Joseph hasn't ended quite yet but it is, in this section, rather reminiscent of today. There has been a famine in the land and the ruling class has all the food. So once they have bled the people dry of their money, they sell food to them for their livestock and land. Finally, it recounts, all of Egypt was reduced to servitude because of this. I am entirely in favour of eating the rich, so to speak. More to the point, the food that the Egyptians sold their lives for was theirs initially before it was taken. They worked for it and the government took heavy taxes during the good years so that they would not starve in the bad ones. The government did its job but then used that food as leverage to enrich itself. It's hard not to see Joseph as a villain here, especially given current events.

Let's be clear, this is partially aimed at pharma companies and vaccines. Vaccines work. There was a good and reasonable response to the pandemic. Now, when Moderna et al have their product, bought and paid for by governments of people, they plan to mark up the price a ludicrous amount. Also, the people who don't have the shot yet are the poor in developing nations, so there's that too.

To what end do people do this? To die surrounded by their coercively acquired goods?

Jesus, in this section, begins to predict his own death. I wonder what it would be like for an immortal God to know they were going to die. For myself I find the fear of suffering more compelling than the fear the inevitability of death, which I think is pretty true to my generation. Jesus, too, seems afraid to suffer when he begs God to spare him this plan. But it works out in the end, I suppose. As Dr. Manhattan said, "Nothing ever ends." I don't entirely subscribe to that theory, because we know that everything ends, and in each specific case, everyone ends. I know standard dogma is that all humans live forever, but that's a weird, spiritual type thing and I have no category for it.

Speaking of which, the transfiguration happens in this passage too. I guess that it must be for the disciples' benefit, or maybe for Jesus as he draws comfort from the humans who were before. But maybe not. Maybe there's some super weird spiritual thing that I can't perceive that is also going on. That's fine. But I think I would totally be Peter here, asking what I could do instead of just appreciating the glory to which I was witness.

#bible in a year #transfiguration #Jesus #Joseph #eat the rich

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angry-geese · 3 years

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Sage

nanami kento x reader

warnings: none! sfw. entirely fluff, this will quite literally rot your teeth. gn!reader though there is mentions of them being pregnant. aside from that gn pronouns are used.

notes: some dad!nanami and domestic fluff

word count: 1,435

Nanami settled into being a father better than he thought he would.

You were another jujutsu sorcerer, working with Gojo at the time. Your meeting with Nanami was only by chance. The two of you bonded over bullying Gojo. Though you found him much less annoying than Nanami did, you still made it known how you didn't appreciate his antics.

Slowly you wormed your way more into his life. The two of you frequented the same bakery. Early mornings turned into getting pastries together. You offered to pay the first time. He had your order memorized. He picked up little things about you that you hadn't even noticed yourself. Nanami was observant. He didn't intend to memorize these things—he wasn't certain why he was watching you—but he did. The one day you showed up late he had your order waiting for you in his arms. Since you were still under the impression he didn't like you, it was surprising.

The next day he had your order waiting for you.

No matter how many times you offered to pay him back, he always refused. Reluctantly he enjoyed your company. Though you weren't officially partners, Gojo usually ended up sending you on the same missions. Working together turned into spending time together outside of work. Much of your free time was spent at his home, or him at yours. The two of you were inseparable.

Nanami made it known he'd never date a coworker. He was awfully vocal about his distaste for work. The last thing he'd ever want was his personal and work life crossing over. But he made an exception for you.

He realized he was too far gone when he couldn't imagine life without you.

You were always calm and collected and strong in a way he could respect. The jujutsu world was never kind to you, but you took whatever it threw at you with grace. He respected you before he liked you. But when he fell for you, he fell hard.

His confession wasn't anything grand, but he still tried to make it special. After a mission, he invited you out to dinner. The place was a bit fancier than what you usually went to. He insisted it was a special occasion.

Nanami was almost too nervous to get his confession out, but after a few drinks he managed.

To be honest, you were under the impression you were already dating.

Dating wasn't all that different from the way things were before. You were a bit more affectionate around him. You had no problems with draping yourself over his form. Or giving him a kiss without warning. Anything to bother him while he worked. You two would move in together almost instantly.

His plan always was settling down. The idea of a family was scary, but appealing. The typical life of a jujutsu sorcerer—or any normal life at that—wasn’t for him.

From the beginning he wanted kids. You did too—eventually—there was a mutual agreement on it. You weren't exactly trying for one, but you weren't trying to avoid it either. If it happened, it happened, that was your logic. The two of you were well off enough financially to care for a child.

You would find out about your pregnancy not long after.

You didn't tell Nanami for a while. While you knew he would be happy with the news, it never felt like the right moment. You wanted to surprise him with it but the moment to do so never presented itself.

Gojo—of all people—spoiled the surprise. Really it was an accident. You made an offhand comment about missing going to bars. As a joke, he asked: "what? Are you pregnant?"

There was no way you could respond without outing yourself. It was a bit embarrassing that your coworker found out before your husband. Nanami took your silence as a yes.

Upon hearing the news, he was ecstatic.

The second he could, he quit. The jujutsu world is no place for a family. He would be content with never seeing another sorcerer again.

He would hardly leave your side for the next nine months.

Nanami would tag along to each and every one of your doctors appointments. God forbid you lifted something too heavy, or were on your feet too long. He was always on your case about pushing yourself too hard. His presence was suffocating at times, but you knew he meant well. If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask and he’d bring it to you. You tried not to abuse this power too much.

The two of you decided to keep the gender a secret until your child was born.

A few months later you'd have a girl.

Eventually one of you would have to go back to work. Maternity leave wouldn't last forever. Your “normal” job paid enough to support the three of you. You weren't rich, but you made enough to live comfortably. Nanami agreed to stay home and take care of the baby.

He took to being a stay-at-home father better than he thought he would. Being a househusband was a better fit for him than any office work. A deep fear lingers in him that he’ll be a bad parent; the same doubts that any new parent has. He’s not nearly as bad as he says he is. You make sure he knows that.

"She's so little," he says, "am I doing this right?"

The idea of being responsible for such a small and fragile thing scares him.

The tiny bundle rests against his chest. A tuft of soft blonde hair is visible from under her yellow cap. Nanami smooths a hand over her head, fixing her hat. He can't stop the smile that spreads across his face and she chirps happily. Her pudgy fingers reach out and wrap around his much larger one.

"It's a baby carrier, how complicated can it be?" You ask.

The instructions look like they're written in Greek.

He notices your confused look and says a weak: "I told you"

The parts look nothing like the picture. Her baby carrier is a mess of straps and unnecessary clips. You can't tell what parts are spares, or just things you've left out.

It's oddly stressful.

Since when were these things so hard to put together?

"It looks nothing like the picture." He says.

"I mean, it doesn't look wrong." You say, a bit irritated. “As long as it keeps her in one place I think she’ll be fine.”

He fixes her hat one last time.

The walk to the bakery isn't a long one. When you two were looking for a house, you found one nearby. Nanami has your order memorized, and orders for the both of you. He’s made plenty of midnight trips to this place; you had cravings for some pretty strange things. You get your usual order of a coffee, a filled pastry, and a loaf of bread you plan on saving for breakfast tomorrow.

You gather your things and sit on a nearby bench to eat. Although it feels like such a little thing, this feels like the first time you've been out since you had the baby. Being away from work has made you both a bit stir crazy.

"You're dropping food on her head." You say.

A small "oh" leaves his mouth before he picks up the crumb, popping it into his mouth.

"Ken' that's gross."

He looks at you, then down at her, then back to you.

"Yeah."

He smooths a hand over her head. She squeals in delight, her pudgy hands outstretched. Nanami still can't get over how little she is. Months later he's still shocked that something so small is his. He acts like she's the most fragile thing on earth. Constantly you have to remind him that children are a lot more resilient than he thinks. If the baby is crying, he’s usually the first to console her. Even on nights that you offer, he refuses. He’ll stay up for hours reading to her.

He never thought he could love something so much. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, then yours. Moments like this are fleeting. He hates to get sentimental, but moments like this are fleeting. Before you know it, your kid will be all grown up and that thought terrifies him.

You lean your head against his shoulder. He almost seems surprised by it.

“We should hit that bookstore on the way back.” You offhandedly mention.

“Do you have room for more books?” He asks.

No, but you’re getting more anyway.

#jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami #nanami kento #nanami fluff #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff

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mandoinevarro · 4 years

Text

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun.

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose. Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga. “Who’s they?”

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you. You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames your knees with his legs “—armchair.” Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you? Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander @hellomothermoon @newyorksins @leo-moon @benedrylcumbersnatch

#the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando smut #mando x reader #mando x you #star wars smut

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bokettochild · 3 years

Text

Of Gramma’s and Pie

Saw a prompt about Wild and Legend baking pie together, so here we are I guess...

Should this go in the Bunny Merchant’s Fluffy Adventure’s collection? It’s not exactly Ravio centric....

“So, you claim the vet can bake.”

It’s morning and the heroes stopped by again last night, wounded and tired and all too happy to sip warm cider and cocoa while Ravio bustled about and worked with Mr. Hero to organize sleeping arrangements for them. The sun rose long ago, but most of Mr. Hero’s family is still asleep, and when he’d last checked he’d found Captain Hero Sir Jr. dozing on Mr. Hero’s bed with young Wild curled into one side and Tune curled into the other, Mr. Rancher spread out over the top of them like some sort of strange blanket.

Mr. Chosen Hero dozes on the couch, sailcloth wrapped around him as well as Mr. Hero’s favorite blanket, and the veteran hero lies collapsed on the floor (but suitably surrounded by cushions) at his side, the older hero’s hand hanging down to where Mr. Hero clings to it in his sleep, the edge of the quilt trails over the top of him, and Ravio seriously doubts that his housemate will be waking any time soon.

Fortunately, he’s not pressed for company, what with Mr. Traveler Hero happily inspecting the garden outside and humming softly, and Mr. Smithy busily mending the front door that he’s been nagging Mr. Hero about for years now. The tune of their work mixes with that of his own as he mixes up fresh bread dough to bake for breakfast.

Mr. Captain Hero Sir had stumbled into the kitchen mere minutes ago, pouring himself a cup of coffee from Ravio’s beloved Hytopian-press, and sipping it slowly as he sits at the table and watches Ravio work

The statement is out of nowhere, but Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s blue eyes sparkle over the rim of his mug, and Ravio can only smile back. “Yes, Mr. Hero is an excellent cook!”

“Really?” The captain doesn’t sound the least bit convinced, cocking a brow and giving a smile that screams doubt. “The vet, Mister I-Burn-Any-Food-I-Touch?”

“Mr. Captain Hero Sir!” Ravio exclaims, a hand drawing up to touch his chest in a sign of offence. “You speak so cruelly! Sure, Mr. Hero never mastered campfire cooking, but he’s a talented cook!”

The captain continued to stare and smile in unbelief.

“You should taste his pies.” Ravio sighs, determined to convince his friend. “Light buttery crusts, sweet tender centers, just the right balance of spicey and sweet...” He can already taste the thick gooey richness that is mincemeat, eyes sparkling at the thought of molasses, and stomach growling loudly at the mere hint of apple pie. “I’ll ask him to make you one,” He chirps as he snaps back to attention, shooing Sheerow away from his bread dough and offering his little friend a raisin to keep him busy. “What’s your favorite pie, Mr. Captain Hero Sir?”

“Oh no,” Mr. Captain Hero Sir shakes his head, laughing lightly. “I don’t like pie.”

From the bedroom, Captain Hero Sir Jr.’s snores cut off abruptly, Wild kicking lightly in his sleep and Tune’s brows twitching. In the living room, Mr. Chosen Hero starts awake and Mr. Hero stirs slightly, brow furrowing and nose wiggling at some disturbance.

Three sets of eyes stare at Mr. Captain Hero Sir, one through the window, another from the door, and the third practically in the captain’s face as Ravio darts forwards and slams his hands on the table. Coffee sloshes out of the mug and onto his sleeve, but he’s too busy staring down his old friend to care.

“You don’t like pie?!?!?!”

“Um...” Mr. Captain Hero Sir pulls away, wincing at the sudden noise and glancing nervously at the bedroom door. “No?”

He’s torn, half of him utterly horrified and half wanting to order the captain to go sit in a corner and think about what he’s said, as if his friend is a naughty child, and the other worriedly wondering if Mr. Captain Hero Sir even knows what a proper pie tastes like. “But...how?”

Mr. Captain Hero Sir shrugs, almost calm, as if his words aren’t critical to their friendship (they aren’t, not really, but Ravio had thought the captain had more sense than this). “It’s just not something I enjoy. If I wanted to eat fruit I’d go buy some, if I want crunchy bread I’ll buy some, why on earth would I mix them?”

“I sense a disturbance in nature,” Wild and Captain Hero Sir Jr. both stand in the doorway, the younger sleepily rubbing his eyes as the words leave his mouth with a yawn while his elder looms behind him, face shaded in the shadows of the doorway. “What’s happening out here?”

Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighs in resignation, letting his head fall into his hands as he whispers something unintelligible under his breath, but Ravio doesn’t spare him an ounce of pity as he points an accusing finger the captain’s way. “Mr. Captain Hero Sir says he doesn’t like pie!”

Four heads shoot up to stare at the man in question, the sleep fading from Wild’s eyes and Captain Hero Sir Jr. sighing in what can only be disappointment with his older brother/father-figure. Over in the living room, Mr. Chosen Hero has shot up to stare in something like shock at the captain, Mr. Hero’s head rising up next to him with a glower that makes them all shiver.

“Who said what in my house?”

“I don’t like pie.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir reiterates, and Ravio genuinely has to stumble back, hand on his brow as he looks at the captain.

“My own friend! Speaking such words of sacrilege! Such disrespect and sin! Why? I trusted you, Mr. Captain Hero Sir!”

The man in question sighs again, loudly, shaking his head. “You don’t need to make a big deal out of it, it’s just pie, it’s not even-”

“Just pie?!?” Two heroes shout en tandem, Mr. Hero practically vaulting himself over the couch and Wild stiffening indignantly.

“It’s not ‘just pie’!” Mr. Hero protests. “Have you ever eaten pie? Have you never-”

“Pie is sacred.” Wild nods sagely, eyes sharp and firm as they meet the captains.

“See?” Mr. Hero motions to the younger hero. “Pie is sacred! You do not disrespect pie!”

The disagreement turns into a full-blown argument and Ravio can only watch in ever growing shock at how defensive some of the heroes can be about their opinions; Mr. Captain Hero Sir tiredly reiterating his disagreement while the others each travel through the five stages of grief on repeat, Mr. Hero eventually scowling darkly and uttering the words that silence the others.

“I am gonna to make a pie so lip-smackin' good you’ll be on your knees repentin’ for your sins.”

And Mr. Captain Hero Sir looks all the more tired at the words, rubbing his head at the beginnings of a country twang in Mr. Hero’s voice as the veteran turns to Wild, eyes flashing indigo as they meet eerie cornflower blue. “Wild, I’ll need your help.”

“Why?” Ravio whispers, looking between the two.

“Because,” Mr. Hero runs his hands through his long hair, the locks still messy from sleep and left uncombed for days. “I still haven’t been able to recreate Gran’s recipe for apple pie and Wild’s my best chance at figuring out what I’m doing wrong.”

The merchant blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. And stares at his friend. “Doesn’t your grandmother live just down the road a way? Only an hour or so? Can’t you just ask her?”

And as eyes turn to Mr. Hero, the other boy waves him off, ears tainted pink as he turns to the kitchen cabinets and starts searching. “Nope, not tryin’ that. It’s been five years or so an’ she’d only be upset with me for not getting' news to her ‘bout anything. I’d rather save her the bother of fussin’ and worryin’.”

“You-” Mr. Captain Hero Sir is the one who looks outraged now. “You don’t keep your grandma up to date about how you are? What kind of a grandson are you, vet?!?!”

“A terrible one.” Mr. Hero sighs into the cabinet, and while his voice is resigned his ears droop ever so slightly, making the captain pause in his scolding.

Green meets royal blue as merchant and captain exchange a worried look, before both nodding as a silent conversation is spun between them, Mr. Captain Hero Sir plucking up his coffee mug and retreating, and Ravio following behind a few minutes later after making sure his bread is in the oven and that those in the kitchen are fully distracted and properly attired (it brings him no small amount of joy to see Mr. Hero don the frilly bunny apron he gave him last holiday season).

“We’re contacting that poor woman.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir murmurs as soon as the two of them are clear of the kitchen. “She’s got to be worried sick about him.”

“Who?” Mr. Chosen Hero is still blinking sleep from his eyes, but he looks between them with curiosity.

“Legend’s Gran.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir, explains. “Turns out the vet hasn’t contacted her in something close to five years, and now feels awkward about trying.”

“Oh.” Mr. Chosen Hero murmurs sadly. “Poor vet!”

“Poor Legend’s grandma!” Mr. Captain Hero Sir , brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “She’s got to be worried sick about him! Imagine if Wind’s granny didn’t know where he was for five years! She’d be sick as death with worry!”

“We need to contact her.” Mr. Chosen Hero breathes, eyes wide.

“Agreed.” The other two nod.

Mr. Chosen Hero’s hand is the steadiest, and his script the most elegant as they work to scribble out a letter. Originally, Mr. Captain Hero Sir had wanted to forge the letter and present it as being from Mr. Hero himself, but Mr. Chosen Hero had rejected the idea, claiming that doing so would only cause problems. “I’m a master of letter mischief.” The Skyloftian claims with a twinkle in his eyes. “You don’t write a letter for someone, or you’ll just cause trouble. Trust me. The best way to do this is honestly.”

At the doubtful expressions of the other two he adds on, only slightly sheepish. “All other methods are excellent ways of destroying relationships, again, trust me on this one. If we present it as Legend’s words, he’ll just get mad at all of us, and if we lie, then they’ll both be mad and likely hurt. But if we tell her the truth, that Legend is hesitant to reach out because he thinks she’ll only be upset, then any decent granny would either reply or wing it over here as soon as possible.”

“That’s ‘hoof it over here’.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir corrects with a grin. “But you’ve got the right spirit, Sky.”

The other man smiles up at him from his seat, eyes twinkling with trouble. “We share a spirit, so...”

The captain cuffs the back of his friend’s head, missing as Mr. Chosen Hero ducks, giggling softly and smiling as he turns his attention to the parchment and ink that Ravio had provided for their mission. The quill stills just above the paper as Mr. Chosen Hero pauses, biting his lip and looking up at the two of them. “How should I address it?”

The captain blinks, and Ravio watches as the man frowns down at the blank parchment. “...I don’t know. Does Legend even have a last name?”

“Lon.” Ravio chirps, moving to grab a letter laid at the top of the desk and pointing out the words scrawled on it in Miss Princess Zelda’s hand. Link Lon, the paper reads, and both of the heroes blink at it incredulously.

“Lon? Like-”

“Miss Malon?” Mr. Chosen Hero breathes, and the two exchange a glance.

“Miss- Oh!” The merchant brightens. “You mean Grammalon?” Again, he darts across the bedroom towards one of the shelves, the heroes’ eyes following his motions as he selects a framed picture from one of the shelves and presents it to them.

He watches in amusement as their eyes grow wide, Mr. Chosen Hero setting down his quill and reverently touching the picture.

“Is that Time?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir breathes, brows cocked as he bends over to study the picture that now lies in Mr. Chosen Hero’s hands.

“Is what me?” And there the kid/not-kid is, standing in the doorway with raised brows and a curious tilt to his head (some things never change).

“Time, Legend has your picture on his wall.” The captain chuckles, confusion still apparent in his gaze as his younger brother/son crosses the length of the room to stare at the picture.

Sure enough, the picture, faded and grainy, displays Time’s smiling face, free of markings or scars, with both eyes shining in a smile as what appears to be the younger version of the hero stares out from the photo, arms wrapped around an older woman with equally bright eyes and long windswept hair.

“That’s Mr. Hero’s Grammalon.” Ravio chirps as the three stare. “And her grandson, Mr. Hero’s ancestor, Sir Hero Raven.”

“Hero of Ravens?” The three heroes look at each other in confusion, and Ravio has to bite back a giggle at their stupidity. All Heroes were the same it seemed.

“Hero of Labrynnia, but his name was Raven. He’s Mr. Hero’s ancestor and mentor, but don’t let on that I told you!” He whispers, conspiratorially while the three adult heroes blink at him in confusion.

“Legend had a....” Twilight breathes

“How did his ancestor mentor him?” Sky wonders aloud.

“Are they still at it?” Legend grumbles as he stirs the dry ingrediants, gaze turning to where Wild stands by the cabinets, ears perked towards the bedroom door.

“Yep.” The champion replies, climbing on top of a shelf to reach something located higher up. “How do you even reach stuff this high?”

“Same way you are right now.” legend smirks, violet eyes never leaving the champion, waiting for the second he slips and sighing softly with relief when Wild hops easily down. “Don’t tell Ravio though, he’d scold me for putting me feet on things.”

Wild nods and the two return to their work, stirring and mixing and measuring and generally existing within the same space as they work.

It’s nice having someone to cook with, someone who isn’t fussy (although he does enjoy working with Ravio) and a person who’s daring enough to try nearly anything to make a recipe perfect. The vet and champion work in an easy dance, darting past each other and reaching over around and past in order to get what they need, falling into an easy pattern as Legend reaches for the cinnamon to hand to Wild just as the champion hands him a stack of pie pans to place the crusts in once their ready.

It’s easy to melt into the lull of the work, and he’s nearly lost in slicing the apples the right way when Wild’s voice begins to waver with an all too familiar lilting tune that has violet eyes shooting up to stare at him.

“Where did you learn that song?”

“You like it?” Wild offers a weak smile, and the vet can only nod slowly as Wild’s attention drifts back down to his work. “I think my mother taught it to me, I don’t know. It plays in my head when I work, and sometimes when I cook.”

“You too, huh?”

At the champion’s confused stare, he elaborates. “My Gran hums the same song when she works the farm, I’ve known it since I was a tot. Guess I never figured that our weird...” He gestures airily, careful not to scatter flour from his white-dusted fingers. “Family, I guess, that we’d all probably learn it.”

“Where did it come from?” Wild cocks his head, eyes imploring and ever so wide that it’s hard for Legend to remember he needs to look up to meet them instead of down.

“Great Grammalon.” Legend answers easily. He doesn’t know why the words spill from his mouth or why he’s so open with the kid, but Wild isn’t teasing and there’s no one else about now that Four’s moved on to join Hyrule in inspecting the bee hives out in the back. “It’s the family horse song, something of a lullaby too.”

“Does it have words?” Wild presses, curios and open, drawing a short halting laugh from the vet with the innocence of a face that has many times before been twisted in smiles that would make Hylia shudder.

“I recken’ so, never learned them though, just the tune.”

And Wild nods, content with his answer as the two return to their work. When the song drifts over the kitchen again, Legend startles to find that his voice is joining in, humming a soft melody to Wild’s lilting voice, the tune weaving about the kitchen and making every motion and task feel like a dance. They’re both light on their feet, both nimble and quick, both seamless in their motions in a way that makes it so much like a dance that Legend’s nearly lost in it.

In the bedroom, Twilight blinks awake to help write a letter to a forlorn and forgotten grandmother, while, in the kitchen, the vet and champion work to a tune that rings familiar in more than just their own ears.

Come breakfast time, when the others are awake at last and everyone has tumbled into the kitchen, they find Wild clapping the flour from his hands over the top of an already dust covered and violently sneezing vet, who’s smile stretches just as far as the champions as he wipes apple juice slick hands across Wild’s tunic, from the shoulders to the waist, snickering wildly as the younger hero pulls back with a soft whine of complaint.

“You two have been busy.” Time chuckles as he walks into the room, wiping ink from his fingers across Legend’s white dusted apron.

“Twilight, your kid needs to be controlled.” Legend promptly deadpans, earning a hurt look from the champion.

“But we just had a bonding moment!” Wild protests.

“You can’t deny the magic of bonding moments.” Time nods sagaciously as Wild embraces the vet, further covering the vet in flour and now juice as Legend rolls his eyes, but there’s no missing the little smile on his face or the gentle way he pats the arm that wraps around his front as Wild nuzzles into his flour coated hair.

“Mr. Hero!” Ravio’s startled shriek sounds, an envelope fluttering to the floor as he freezes, green eyes widening in horror. “What in Lolia’s name have the two of you been doing!”

“Legend spilled the-” The champion is cut off by a fast-moving elbow to the stomach, making him wheeze lightly as Legend reaches above his head to muffle the kid’s voice.

“Wild knocked a bag of flour off of the top shelf. Don’t worry he- yech!” The vet surges forward with a horrified expression, only to fall forwards into Wild’s arms where they’re still hooked around his chest, the champion’s tongue lolling out of his mouth with a dopey grin.

“Licking the hand? Really Wild?” Twilight shakes his head.

“That’s disgusting!” Legend shivers, wiping his hand off on his once pink but now white apron.

“The vet knocked it over.” Wild says sweetly.

“You lil’ shit!” Legend scowls upwards at the hero holding him, but when Wild’s eyes meet his there’s a glimmer of something mischievous in the vet’s gaze. “How would I even reach that?”

The champion only grins, a bit feral and entirely insane, and squeezes Legend closer. “You're a gremlin too!” And this time when the champion nuzzles again his hair with a delighted growling Legend only sits there in the embrace, covered in flour and wearing the most hideously frilly and pink apron any of them have ever seen, a weary but fond grin pulling at his lips.

“What’s with the letter.” The pink-and-white-headed vet questions, cocking a brow and leaning back in the embrace of a beaming Wild.

“It’s um...” Ravio flushes, darkening continuously as Legend continues to stare at him. “It’s...”

“It’s a letter to your gran.” Warriors pipes up, sipping a second mug of coffee as he sist at the table. “Poor woman deserves to know you're okay.”

The vet stiffens in Wild’s hold, earning Warriors a glare from the champion as well as the vet for ruining the bonding cuddles. “I told you to let it alone.” Legend scowls, hands fisting in his frankly hideous apron.

“And I know what it’s like to be a parent who doesn’t know where their kid is.” Warriors returns evenly, eyes softening slightly. “Privacy or not, you’re hurting someone else, and if it means not respecting your wishes in order to set an old woman’s heart at ease-”

“Okay!” Legend snaps, before sagging back against Wild, going very nearly limp and running is hand down his face as the champion looks down at his cooking buddy with concern in his gaze. “Just- What did you guys write?”

“We told her you’re okay.” Sky offers. “You’ve been traveling and doing things for the royal family and others and you were feeling guilty over not talking to her. We told her why you hadn’t visited, based on what you said earlier, and we said that we’d try and talk to you about it when we could.”

The vet nods slowly, a frown creasing his face where he’d been bright and smiling moments before. “Okay.”

“Are you alright with us sending it?” The gentle hero presses cautiously, and at Legend’s nod of the head Sheerow is already whizzing over to accept the letter from Ravio’s hands before whizzing back out the open window with an eager noise that has Legend shaking his head with a hint of a smile.

“Come on,” Wild hefts the smaller hero in his arms like a child with a puppy. “We need to force feed my dad some pie!”

There was no escaping it, Ravio’s bread was set aside and the only food available was three crisp and warm apple pies, which disappeared almost immediately.

Warriors repented of his sins.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #apple pie #lu ravio #lu legend #lu wild #lu warriors #lu time #references to #mamalon #sir raven (legend of zelda)#I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR!!!!#fluffics #warriors is wild's dad

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angeltreasure · 3 years

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Hello friend, sorry if this is a silly question but could you explain what the Eucharist is and why it is important? I’m in the beginning of my journey and feel so overwhelmed by google. Have a beautiful day 😊💛

I’ve been saving this ask for a while so this is so exciting! I apologize for my lateness. I usually answer right away but we have had trouble with the WiFi setting up. Anyway! Welcome Anon!!! I am so excited for your faith journey!! Welcome. 😊🙏🏻

Don’t worry, this isn’t a silly question at all. No, it’s a very good question! I am a Catholic, so I will be explaining my Christian denomination believes what the Eucharist is. In fact, this is a VERY important topic to learn about. I will give you my answer then give you some quotes and videos. Hope you enjoy.

The Eucharist IS Jesus Christ. You know how traffic lights are different colors? Red for stop, yellow to caution; slow down, and green for go? Well, you must understand if you choose to join the Catholic Church that the Eucharist is not a symbol. Although the appearance is a wafer bread and tastes like one, it is not plain like a traffic signal. When a priest blesses the host at a Catholic mass, the host transforms into the body of Jesus Christ. You will not see Jesus appear in the priest hand when he raises the host up for that blessing, and you will not taste human flesh when you eat of it. The veil between this world we live in and the afterlife block us so the appearance and taste remain as a wafer host but the substance has really changed into the body of Jesus Christ. Eating the bread means Christ becomes a part of us and makes us stronger in faith! ♥️

Here’s what the Bible says about the Eucharist, taken from my favorite New Testament book called Matthew. I will color the specific verse in the story as red to help you understand what we believe. In the story, Jesus and His disciples were preparing to find a place for Passover. There is a lot to unpack since you are very new to the faith, so I will skip right to the verses of what Jesus spoke. [Passover: “Passover is a Jewish holiday that honors the freedom and exodus of the Israelites (Jewish slaves) from Egypt during the reign of the Pharaoh Ramses II. Before the ancient Jews fled Egypt, their firstborn children were "passed over" and spared from death, thus dubbing the holiday "Passover."”]

….. “While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” - Matthew 26:26-29

You see, at this point in time, His disciples did not fully understand the mystery surrounding what was to come. After this night, Jesus was betrayed by Judas (one of His followers) gave His life to die on the cross. In doing so, He saved us from the punishment of all of our sins and opened the gates to Heaven. Back in the past, animals were often given up a sacrifice. Jesus Himself was the perfect sacrificial lamb for slaughter in order to save us from death. This image is the very best that I love that describes the Eucharist Transubstantiation.

I love this one too…

So when you eat the blessed Eucharist and drink the blessed wine done by a Catholic priest, you really do consume the substance that is Jesus’s body, blood, soul, and divinity. Ever hear that phrase, “you are what you eat”? When we consume Jesus, that doesn’t mean we are cannibals, become God, or re-sacrifice Jesus. It means we become a better reflection of Jesus.

Catholics believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist because Jesus tells us this is true in the Bible: ““No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them, and I will raise them up at the last day. It is written in the Prophets: ‘They will all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard the Father and learned from him comes to me. Very truly I tell you, the one who believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which anyone may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” Then the Jews began to argue sharply among themselves, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Your ancestors ate manna and died, but whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.” He said this while teaching in the synagogue in Capernaum. On hearing it, many of his disciples said, “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?” Aware that his disciples were grumbling about this, Jesus said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you see the Son of Man ascend to where he was before! The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you—they are full of the Spirit and life. Yet there are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus had known from the beginning which of them did not believe and who would betray him. He went on to say, “This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless the Father has enabled them.” From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.” John 6:44-66

Fun facts!!!:

Eucharist: “is a transliteration of the Greek word eucharistia, which is itself a translation of the Hebrew word berekah. All three words have the meaning of thanksgiving, or praise for the wonderful works of God.”

Bethlehem: the city where Jesus was born means “House of Bread”!

Transubstantiation: “the conversion of the substance of the Eucharistic elements into the body and blood of Christ at consecration, only the appearances of bread and wine still remaining.”

I saw a poll that only one third of Catholics really believe in Transubstantiation. If you decide in your journey to become part of the Catholic Church, please do not ever forget the words Jesus spoke about Himself to His people and those who read today. He truly is present as the Eucharist and wine.

Did you know there is evidence that the Eucharist is truly Jesus?! They are called Eucharistic Miracles. There are sooo many stories from around the world of bleeding Eucharists that scientists and such have actually tested in their labs to find real they had human blood down to a specific blood type AND material evidence of finding human heart tissue not healthy and strong but distressed! Blessed Carlo Acutis (a young man that passed away that is currently in the process of sainthood here on Earth) created an amazing website that collected examples of Eucharistic Miracles. (See link below.) This subject itself is just extra icing on the cake but don’t fall down the rabbit hole so you don’t feel overwhelmed.

youtube

Bishop Barron on the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist

youtube

Explaining the Faith - The Eucharist In Scripture

youtube

Explaining the Faith - Eucharistic Miracles: Scientific Proof

youtube

The Veil Removed, what really happens during a Catholic Mass

I could give you so much more but this was just so wonderful to be able to teach you. Know that it’s ok to feel overwhelmed. The topic of what the Eucharist really is and why it is so important is so rich in history and traditions. I hope I was able to satisfy your curiosity. If you ever have any more questions about it, I highly recommend reading sections about it in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (revised edition) but more importantly, reach out to a Catholic priest or bishop by calling them, e-mailing, or even dropping by in person. I am not part of the clergy at all, so talking to a Catholic priest or bishop, you will be able to answer any more questions you have to the Eucharist and they will explain it so well. If you are interested in wanting to know more about the Catholic Faith, I strongly suggest asking about the RCIA, free classes offered by your nearest Catholic Church which will allow you to explore what the Catholic Faith is and answer any questions you have. No pressure though, but just know we are here for you. I am so happy you were chosen as well by God! I will pray that you have a wonderful, exciting journey! God bless and you have a wonderful day/night as well.

#asks #Eucharist #host #transubstantiation #Jesus #Catholic #Catholicism #beliefs #thank you #reference

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jungwonenthusiast · 3 years

Text

Field Trip

A/N: I’ve been working on this pic for a while, I hope you guys like it :)

Pairing: Jake Sim x fem! reader

Word count: 5.2k

Genre: fluff, high school au

Warning: mentions of virginity loss and porn, occasional swearing, nothing else I think

“How many shirts should I take?” Jake asks you through your phone.

“Uhm, we’re there for three days so take four just incase.” you reply and you pack your suitcase as well.

You two were preparing for your five day field trip to New York which was happening tomorrow.

You packed your favorite jeans and hoodies and even a dress just in case. You can't help but romanticize the hell out of New York after being stuck in this small town all your life.

“How many pairs of underwear should I take?” he asks again and you giggle. He’s like a kid sometimes. “How many times do you think you’ll change your underwear?” you say while sitting on your suitcase to get it to zip closed.

“Probably three but I’ll take four just in case.”

“What a quick learner.” you say and you hear him scoff.

Jake has been your best friend since elementary school when you scraped your knee during tag and he took you to the nurse’s office. He’s been a sweetie since day one.

“I doubt I’m gonna get any sleep tonight,” you sigh. “I’m too riled up.”

“Same,” he sighs. “I wonder how many flashers we’ll run into.”

You laugh. “Why is that the first thing you think of you creep.”

“Hey now,’ he chuckles. “I thought that was the stereotype.”

You hop onto your bed and pick your phone up, it looks like Jake’s doing the same. All you can see are his eyes and a bit of his nose bridge. His dark hair has started to grow out and it was poking at his eyelids.

Your phone pings with a text from Jake. It’s a horrendous screenshot of you climbing over your phone to get into bed. You gasp.

“I’ll kill you.” you tell him as he’s holding in his laugh. “I will do it.”

His laugh bursts out of his throat, jolly and warm. “Why I love it.”

“I hate you so much. Delete it.”

“No way,” he bunches his brows. “You have an entire photo album dedicated to bad pictures of me.”

“And I also have an entire album dedicated to good pictures of you.” you roll your eyes.

“You do?” he asks. “That’s a bit fangirly of you.”

“Me? A fangirl? Maybe Madeline but not me.” you scoff.

“Madeline?” his voice perks up. “She likes me?”

“Yeah, I thought you knew this.” you swear that you’ve brought this up before. Maybe he just forgot.

“Nuh-uh.” he says.

“Well...” you say. “do you like her back.”

“I mean she’s nice but,” he hesitates. “not really.”

“Why not? She’s smart and super pretty. I'm so jealous of her hair.” you say. Madeline was a tan ginger girl with curly fiery hair down to the small of her back.

“You have nice hair.” he says nonchalantly.

You touch it and rub it between your fingers. “It’s whatever.”

He scoffs. “You’re too hard on yourself all the time.”

“I’m a teenage girl, I can’t help it.” You defend yourself, but he isn’t lying.

“I’m bored, can I come over?” he says suddenly.

“Tonight? We have school tomorrow.” you reply.

“Maybe I’ll just sleep over.” he says while turning over in his bed. “I don’t think our parents would care.”

Sleepover? You two hadn’t done that since you turned eleven.

“Where would you sleep?” you ask him, already imagining how this would go.

“I don’t know on the floor.” he shrugs.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor I’ll feel bad.” you argue.

“I don’t care, I’m the one who suggested it, plus I miss you dude, I wanna hang out.” he says and you smile.

“I saw you on Friday.”

“Yeah, a whole two days ago.” he gets up off his bed. “Okay I’ll be there in ten.”

“What-” you start but he cuts you off.

He brings the camera up close to his face and he flashes you a smile. “Bye!” he hangs up.

Your palms feel a bit sweaty and you brush them off on your pants. Why am I nervous? You guys have had plenty of sleepovers before but the rest of the boys were always there, probably passed out from beer or a sugar crash.

You tidy your room up a bit and prepare a little blanket bed on the floor right next to your actual bed.

You hear knocking at the door right when you expected, Jake was hardly ever late.

“Hola~” he says as he walks in with his backpack on. He takes his shoes off before skipping over to your room. You giggle to yourself.

He falls back onto your bed with a big sigh. “I missed being here.”

“Why? There’s nothing cool here. Your house is way cooler.” you say and he smiles.

“Well I can’t deny that,” he shrugs and you punch him in the arm. “you’re the one who said it.”

“We get it rich boy.” you roll your eyes and sit down next to him.

“I’m just playing,” he sits up. “you know that.”

“I hope you showered after practice,” you say. “I don’t want you stinking up my bed.”

He whips his head to you, looking a little bit offended. “I am very clean alright? Here smell my hair.” he shoves his head into your face.

You let out a strangled noise and try to push him away. “Okay, okay!”

“No smell it,” he keeps his hair up in your face, it’s tickling your nose. “smells like mangos right.”

Admitedly, he's right. It smells like mangos.

“Yes it does,” you squeak out. “now please respect my personal bubble.” you spread your arms out and create an imaginary bubble between you two. He tries to tug at your arm but you bellow in a robot voice. “PERSONAL BUBBLE PERSONAL BUBBLE.”

“Fine, fine.” he falls back onto your bed again, laughing. “Lets watch something.”

You follow suit and tug your laptop into your lap.

“Hold on,” you get up and close your window, it was starting to get too cold.

You shimmy under your covers and pull up Netflix.

“Scary movie?” you click on the horror section.

“Sure but you probably won’t be able to sleep.” he teases and you roll your eyes.

“That was years ago.” you start to scroll through the movies.

“Mhm, and I’m never letting you live it down.” he says with pride.

During freshman year the gang decided to go to Jay’s house to watch It together and it freaked you out so much that you went to sleep in the boys room rather than the guest room.

You click on Hush, a movie you’ve been avoiding because it’s about one of your biggest fears, a home invasion.

“I thought you hated this movie.” Jake says, crossing his arms. “I do, but I need to face my fears eventually right?” you click on it and get up to turn the lights off.

Jake soon gets under the covers as well. You both cringe and slap each other every time your feet touch.

“Yo yo yo yo watch out!” Jake whispers and pulls his hood over his head, something you both do when you’re nervous. You weren’t wearing a hoodie so you settled with a spare blanket and draped it over yourself like a cloak.

“Oh shit,” you whisper. “look behind you!” you yell at the main character.

By the end of the movie both of your bodies are stiff and sore from being so tense for two hours straight.

“I thought she was gonna die.” you sigh and you shut your laptop.

“Nah, they couldn’t kill the main girl.” Jake says, comfy and cuddled up in your duvet. “She was so smart.”

“Yeah she was.” you yawn and then kick Jake in the side. “Go to your bed.”

He groans. “It’s warm here though.”

“Go and I’ll make pancakes tomorrow.” you say.

He perks up and follows your orders.

You relax into your mattress, but you miss his warmth next to you. You ignore that.

Your alarm goes off at 6:30 and Jake sleeps right through it.

“How the hell does he get up in the morning?” you whisper. “Probably Leila.”

He’s sleeping on his side, cuddling a stuffed animal he must’ve stolen from your bed while you were asleep.

You stretch your back before washing up.

Jake’s POV

My serene sleep is interrupted by pokes at my shoulder.

“Get up poop.” she says. I almost forgot that I was at her house. I crack my eyes open to find her crouching next to me.

“Good morning.” I croak out.

“You stole ginger.” she points at the stuffed bunny in my arms.

“I was lonely.” I say before sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “What time is it?”

“7:30,” she says holding in a giggle. “go wash up so we can eat.”

“What’s so funny?” I ask her as she walks away. “You’ll see when you look in the mirror.” she says.

My eyes widen. Did she draw a dick on my forehead or something? I thought we swore to never do that.

I scramble to her bathroom to meet some gnarly bedhead. I have no clue how guys have good messy hair, my hair is either boring and flat or just messy.

“Jesus.” I say to myself and try to run my head under the sink.

I brush my teeth and secretly use her facial cleanser.

“So fancy.” I whisper while lathering it up on my face.

I can already hear her voice in my head when I’m drying off saying “don't forget to put lotion on, and face lotion, not body.”

A stack of pancakes is waiting for me in the kitchen, just as she promised.

“Thank you mom.” I say to her before digging in.

She sits across from me with her own plate of flap jacks. She looks so pretty this early in the morning. Her face is fresh and sparkly and her eye bags somehow just make her prettier. It’s cloudy out and I can tell she’s cold she way her body is bundled up in her chair.

I still remember the moment I realized that I liked her. It was seventh grade and we were at our town’s annual fair. She got a bit sick after a ride with a lot of loopdey loops so I stayed behind with her while the rest of the boys continued to go on every ride they pleased. She told me to go with them and that she didn’t want me to miss out but I said that it was fine and that I liked hanging out with her anyway. She smiled her bright smile at me and rested her head on my shoulder for a moment. Then she threw up on my shoes. Like projectile cotton candy, funnel cake, and other miscellaneous fair food vomit. And I didn’t even get that mad, I was more concerned for her. After that I figured I liked her, because if it were Jay I would’ve beat him up.

“Did you have any nightmares?” I ask her and she shakes her head.

“Nah, I dreamt that Sunghoon married a dolphin. It was weird.” she sighs.

I choke on my pancakes. “A dolphin?”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “his name was Jerry.”

“And it was a guy too?” I hold my chest, trying not to choke.

“Don’t judge their interspecies homosexual marriage. It was beautiful.” she laughs and takes a big gulp of water.

I’m almost crying at this point. “Best dream ever. I can’t wait to tell Sunghoon this.”

“No!” her eyes widen. “He’s gonna think I fantasized about it or something.”

“What?” I cock an eyebrow. “Everyone knows that dreams are uncontrollable sometimes.” “Still it’s weird. Imagine if someone told you that I dreamt of you marrying a dolphin. It’s be weird.” she says through a mouth of pancake.

“Did they have kids?” I cackle,

“I don’t know. How would that even work?”

“Maybe they had a surrogate or something.” I suggest.

“Oh god,” she shakes her head, smiling. “we need to stop. I feel like I'm violating him.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Should I wear this shirt or this sweater.” she asks me as we’re getting ready in her room.

“Sweater. It’s probably gonna be cold.” I say while tugging socks on.

“Shit you’re right. Then I won’t be able to wear this dress.” she holds up a little dress that flows out a bit from the waist.

“Bring it anyway and maybe you can wear it for a second so I can take pictures for you.” I suggest and she smiles.

“Good idea.”

We both settle of hoodies and jeans and say goodbye to her parents before hopping in my car.

We get to school right when people start getting on the bus to the airport. We throw our luggage into the bottom carrier and get in line.

“Yo!” I hear a familiar voice call as we get on. “We saved seats for you guys.”

Jay, Sunghoon, Heeseung, Jungwon, Sunoo, and Niki have already gotten comfortable in the back of the bus. Niki was already asleep. Y/N couldn’t help but pat his head before settling down next to Jungwon. The bus wasn’t a school one but one of those fancy ones they bring out once a year.

I sit down next to Sunghoon and dap him up.

“What’s up.” I say while putting my backpack down by my feet.

“Tired.” he says. “Valentina kept me up all night.”

I raise an eyebrow and he smirks.

“For real?” I ask and he nods. “No way.”

“Yeah way.” he says and holds up a fist.

I fist bump him and pat him hard on the shoulder.

“You’re a man now Sunghoon.” I congratulate him and he snickers.

“What does that make you then?”

“I’m taking my time alright? I’ll get there eventually.” I say, a little embarrassed.

I look back to check out what she’s doing when we start to drive off. She’s fast asleep with her cheek pressed against Jungwon’s shoulder. He looks like he’s about to dose off too. Cute.

Sunghoon and I watch a couple episodes of Death Note before we arrive at the airport. Sunoo shakes Y/N and Jungwon up.

She’s still groggy as we walk into the airport and grabs onto my arm for leverage. My heart jumps a little. It’s not often that we touch despite how much I think about touching her. I could stare at her back all day. She could ignore me for the rest of my life and I’d still be happy to be in her presence. Mental note to all of you: do NOT let your feelings get to this point.

Soon we’re on the plane and she chooses to sit next me. I silently celebrate. Sunoo and Sungoon behind us, Heeseung and Niki next to us, and Jay and Jungwon in front of us. Sunoo pokes his head over her seat.

“Do you have chapstick I can borrow.” he asks with his blonde hair flopping over his forehead.

She digs into her bag and hands him a small tin of lip balm.

“Thank you!” he says and she nods.

“Are you that tired?” I ask her.

“Mhm,” she sighs and shuts her eyes. “I forgot to drink coffee this morning.”

I put in my AirPods and start to watch Lady Bird. She looks over and takes an AirPods out of my ear.

“I wanna watch too.” she say and puts it in her own.

We take off for the six hour trip and soon Y/N is sound asleep. Her head kept dropping forward so I pushed it up and pulled it to rest on my shoulder. This was not on purpose. I can’t help but snap a picture of her and add it to the good pictures of her album. She looks so peaceful and comfortable and gorgeous. I lay my head on hers for a moment before continuing the movie.

Y/N’s POV

After two hours of unsatisfying sleep, and hour of gossip with Sunoo, and three hours of chit chat with Jake you finally arrive. You sit up and stretch as best as you can in the plane. You pull you backpack onto my back and get you luggage down from the overhead bin. It’s already five p.m. when we get off and your stomach is growling.

We take another bus to the hotel and you can’t help but admire the city life as we drive there.

You’re roomed with two other girls at the hotel but you don’t even bother unpacking. You know you’re gonna be in the boys’ room anyway.

Mrs. Gilroy gave us tonight to do whatever we wanted as long as we were back at the hotel by ten p.m.

You sneak into Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon’s room as soon as you can. And when you get there, it’s already a mess.

“Good lord.” you say as you’re met with clothes all over the floor and mini bottles of liquor on the beds.

“You guys are drunk already?” you scrunch your nose and drop your stuff in a corner of the room.

“No.” Sunghoon says to you lazily with a little smirk on his face. You can’t help but giggle. Sunghoon is pretty adorable when he’s drunk.

“Are you drunk too?” you turn to Jake and he shakes his head. His pink cheeks give him away though. “You’re all bad liars.”

“Lets go swim.” he says excitedly.

“There’s a pool? I didn’t bring a swim suit.” you say, bummed.

“Can we go later, I’m hungry.” Jay says and you agree.

“Me too.”

Jake tugs at your arm. “Come on~ we can order room service or ask Jay to get us something.”

“We can get you guys something.” Sunghoon says, pulling a hoodie over his head.

“Please?” Jake looks at you with shiny eyes. He’s and adorable drunk too.

You purse your lips and sigh. “Fine. But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Just wear shorts and a shirt.” Jake says as he tugs his swim trunks out of his suit case.

“I didn’t bring shorts because you said it was gonna be cold.” you complain, crossing your arms.

“Uhm,” he stops for a moment. “you can wear my boxers then.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Huh?”

“What?” he looks at you. “They’re basically shorts. And they’re clean.”

You hesitate but then comply as always. He tosses you a pair of black Calvins.

You steal one of Jay’s shirts and make your way into the bathroom to change. You’re wearing a simple cotton bralette which should be fine for the pool. You bundle up the rest of your old clothes and stick them behind your backpack before heading out with Jake.

The pool is empty and huge and is only light by the lights inside.

“It’s so cold.” you rub at your arms as Jake sets your towels down at a seat.

“I’m sure the pool is heated.” he says and dips a toe in. “Yeah, it’s warm.” Before you can even reply, he tugs his shirt off and canon balls in. You turn your face to avoid getting splashed.

“How is it?” you call out as he emerges from the water. He shakes his hair around like a dog.

“It’s warm so come in, you look funny standing there.” he teases and you roll your eyes. You kick your sneakers off and try to make a peaceful jump in but you didn’t realize you were in the deep end. It takes you a moment to get your senses together and swim to the surface.

“Why is it deep?” you say, a bit out of breath.

Jake giggles at you. “Remember when we used to play and you were the mermaid and I was the-”

“Turtle companion.” you finish his sentence. “Yes, as clear as day.”

“Why couldn't I be a mermaid too? Why was a I a lame turtle.” he fusses.

“I’m sorry okay?” you laugh. “I was a mean child.”

“Yeah you were. I’ll never forgive you for shoving that clump of dirt in my mouth.”

You burst out laughing, flailing your arms in the water to try to stay afloat. “You deserved it!”

“I did not!” he protests.

“You cheated in handball! It was one hundred percent deserved.” you say, swimming over to him.

“I barely cheated!” he calls out, starting to swim away from you.

“Barely? I would’ve won and been champion of our grade if you hand’t pulled that shit!” you say, still laughing and swimming after him.

“Why are you chasing me?” he says while hopping around the pool where he can touch the ground.

“So I can shove another clump of dirt in your mouth.” you try your best to get him but your heavy cotton shirt is holding you back. You don’t let it stop you though.

You finally get to him and tug his arm. He yells as you push him underwater. He finds the ground though, and shoots up soon after.

“Are you trying to drown me?” he looks at you, astonished but giggly.

“Maybe.” you shrug before tackling him again. It had been a while since you two wrestled like this.

You’ve got him under water for a bit until he finds your rib cage and plunges you in. It’s hard to hold your breath while you’re laughing. You feel around for him and pinch his thigh only semi hard. He lets you go after that.

“I won!” you celebrate with your fists in the air.

“You used pain, that isn't fair.” he rubs at the area that you pinched.

“Don’t be a sore loser. I won fair and square.” you cross your arms. “Fine.” he admits his defeat. “that pinch hurt though, come kiss it better.”

Your face twists. “Nuh uh.” you say plainly.

“Please?” he asks. “I will drown myself right now.” You laugh at him.

“I will do it!” he insists.

“Okay, okay! I’m not to going to kiss your leg you weirdo but I’ll give you a hug.” you float over to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I even pinched you lighter than I normally would.”

“I’m sensitive.” he says into your neck and you giggle.

His arms feel so right around your waist and you struggle to decide when to let go, so you just don’t, and neither does he. He holds you decently tight and you feel him pat your back.

You’ve hugged plenty of times before but it felt a little different this time. Probably because you’re pressed up against his bare skin. It makes you feel a bit sheepish.

You pull away from him. “Feel better now?”

He nods with a smile. His cheeks are pink, but this time it’s not from the liquor.

Jake’s POV

I can’t help but feel disappointed when she lets go of me.

I shouldn’t have patted her back that's a dad thing to do.

Her makeup has started to run down her face which makes me giggle.

“What?” she asks.

“Your mascara is making you look crazy.” I say and her hands fly to her face.

“Shit I forgot I had it on.” she attempts to wipe it away but all it does is smear it across her face.

“Here,” I say and float over to her. “I’ll help you.” this was not on purpose.

I hold her face as gently as I can in my hands and rub the runny mascara off with my thumbs. I dip my fingers into the water to get all of the bits off.

I want to kiss her so badly, but I know that I’ll never do it. Sometimes I get irritated at myself for not being able to confess. I think Jay and Sunghoon get irritated about it too.

“You talk about her all the time man just ask her out.”

I don't know why I can’t do it. If she rejects me she’ll do it nicely and things would go back to normal pretty soon. But I don’t think I could live knowing that my feelings would never be reciprocated. Sometimes I get a feeling that she likes me too but I can never be too sure.

“All gone.” I say and she thanks me.

She lets her self float on her back. She has a small smile on her face and she’s so pretty I could cry. There have been multiple times where I nearly cried over how much I like her.

“What are your thinking about?” I ask.

“You know I never know how to answer that.” she bleats. “My mind always goes blank when you ask.”

“Well try to remember what you were thinking about then.”

“Us.” she says plainly. “Us?” I questioned. “What about us?” “I don’t know, just how I met you guys and how happy I am to be friends with you all.” she says.

Oh. She meant all of us.

“Yeah me too.” I agree, trying not to sound down. “Who’s your favorite?”

She snorts. “I don’t have a favorite.”

“Of course you do,” I say. “and it better be me.”

“Why would it be you?” she jeers.

I frown. “Because we met first.”

“I’m kidding, of course you’re my favorite.” she admits.

“And why is that?” I egg her on and she rolls her eyes.

“Because we met first.”

I sigh. “Is that all?”

“Mhm.” she says.

Y/N’s POV

You’re met with InNOut that Sunghoon and Jay got and also a room full of teenage boys. The younger ones were laying on their stomachs on a bed together, watching something on a laptop. Sunghoon and Jay were trying to watch t.v. You say trying because of the furious clicking on the remote.

“What the hell are you guys trying to do?” you and Jake plop onto the one empty bed.

“Trying to find the porn.” Jay grumbles.

“Infront of the children?” you look over at the younger ones.

“They don’t care they’re watching YouTube.” he says, still clicking.

You take a bite of your burger. “You have an endless arena of porn on your phone why do you want the t.v. one?”

“The t.v. makes it special.” Sunghoon says.

“Weird.” you mutter to yourself. “They’re probably gonna make you pay for it too.” Jake chimes in.

“Do you think it’ll go to the school’s credit card or whatever?” Jay asks with wide eyes.

“I don't know but if it does they’ll know it’s from our room.” he says through a full mouth.

You grab pajamas out of your bag and head to the bathroom to shower.

You come out feeling fresh and the younger ones have gone back to their room now.

“My turn,” Jake says, walking into the bathroom.

You sit next to Sunghoon on his bed and start scrolling through your phone.

“Should I get this sweater or this one.” he holds his phone up to you and shows you light blue sweater and a black one.

“Second one.” you say.

“Really?” he questions. “I feel like it’ll make me look emo.”

“You should become emo honestly. It would look good.” you reply and he chuckles.

“You’d have to help me with my eyeliner every morning.”

“Yeah,” you giggle “wait can I do it right now? I wanna see how you’d look.”

“Right now?” he cocks a brow and you nod. “Okay but don’t give me raccoon eyes.”

“I won’t I won’t.” you rush over to your bag and bring your make clutch to the bed.

“Hold still.” you tell him as you give him smokey winged liner.

“It tickles.” he says, trying not to blink too much.

“Beauty is pain.” you clean up the wing with your nail.

In a couple minutes you’re done. “Finished." you say.

“Lemme see.” he grabs a hand mirror from your clutch and holds it up to his face. “Hold on. This looks kinda good.”

“Right?” you had to admit it; he looked gorgeous.

“Why are you so pretty?” Jay says from his bed.

Soon Jake came out of the shower and it was hard to deny how good looking he is especially with his damp hair. How could someone make a t-shirt and sweats look so good? He dumps his laundry by his bag.

“Does Sunghoon have makeup on?” he asks, settling onto his bed.

“Yeah doesn’t it looks nice?” you ask and he agrees.

“Y/N are you gonna sleep here or in your room.” Jay asks.

“I thought I would just sleep on the floor here.” you suggest and he furrows his brows.

“No that’s mean. Share a bed with someone.”

“You should sleep with Jake.” Sunghoon elbows you in the side and you shoot him a dirty look. “We all know he wants you to anyway.”

“Fuck off Sunghoon.” Jake looks over at him with a piercing stare, a contrast to his pink cheeks.

“Is it okay if I do?” you ask him and he nods.

“Yeah for sure.”

Sunghoon snickers.

“I hate you.” Jake scowls.

After a couple hours of watching movies and horsing around it’s nearly midnight and your eyes are getting heavy.

You crawl under the covers and scroll on your phone a bit before trying to sleep. Despite how tired you are it’s hard to sleep with the boys chatting and snickering to each other.

“Can you guys quiet down?” you ask them.

“Sorry.” Jay says.

After maybe an hour of sleep, you feel someone get on the bed. Probably Jake, you think to yourself. His little sighs as he gets comfortable are cute.

“You awake?” he whispers.

“Mm?” you turn on your side to face him. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” he says. The room is dark but the moonlight helps you make out the outline of his face.

‘What’s up?” you ask.

“Nothin.” he says and you giggle.

“Okay weirdo. Go to bed.” you close your eyes, stilling facing him though.

“I’m not tired.” he says.

“Count sheep.”

“That never works for me.” he sighs. “Sing me to sleep.”

You try to slap him in the arm but you end up hitting his face. “Oh shit sorry!”

“Ow!” he whines. “Why do you keep hurting me?”

“It was an accident!” you whisper and rub at his cheek a bit.

“Now I actually deserve a hug.” he pouts and you roll your eyes.

“You are not five years old.”

“I still want the hug.” he says plainly and you sigh.

“Fine.” you scooch over to him and pull him into your chest. You pat his back. “There there. Better now?”

He shakes his head. “It still hurts.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” you scoff.

“I have no shame when it comes to your affection, you should know that by now.” he smiles.

You feel his arm fall over your waist and his hand slide up your back. It gives you goosebumps.

You’re cuddling with him. You guys are cuddling right now. You think to yourself. No you’re not, you’re just...hugging. Right?

Jake pulls away to look at you. “I need to tell you something.”

“Are you gonna say your mom again?” you ask and he shakes his head.

“No,” he says giggling. “it’s something for real.”

“Okay what is it?”

He takes a sharp inhale. “I like you.” he winces.

Your heart jumps a bit. “I know.”

“What?” he laughs. “You’re very obvious about it.” you chuckle. “Are you rejecting me?” he asks and you shake your head.

“I would never.” you pull him in by the back of neck and push your lips against his.

#enhypen #enhypen jake #ehypen fluff #enhypen Jake fluff #Jake Sim fluff #Kpop fluff

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hansols-yoda-boxers · 3 years

Text

Camp North Star - June 15th

Lee Siyeon x AFAB!Reader x Lee Yoobin

Word Count: 5834

Contents: recording studio sex, marking, slight voyeurism, teasing, dom Siyeon, sub Yoobin, nipple play, fingering, recording nsfw audio, eating ass, slight hair pulling, oral

Notes: hehe if you remember seeing a poll months ago with all the members of the groups in this au perhaps you know what that was for now

“Okay riddle me this, why do I have to do a swim test?” Siyeon questioned, sipping on her water.

“Because there is a beach and a pool,” you said. “You might fall in.”

“How do you accidentally fall in at the beach?” She asked.

“If you’re in a canoe.”

“Is this all a ploy to get me in a canoe with you?” She smirked.

“I mean I already know you’re coming on the canoe trip so it might happen,” you snickered. “We also may be planning to teach canoe over canoe rescues in one of out teaching sessions”

“Remind me not to sign up for yours then,” she grumbled. “So still, I’m not gonna be swimming.”

“Hey, maybe someone will throw you in,” you said.

“Who would wanna throw me in the lake?” She laughed.

“Probably Jihoon when he sees what a mess you’re leaving in the studio,” you snickered. Siyeon threw you a look while she wiped up the crumbs she had left on the table.

“He’ll never know if you don’t tell him.”

“I make no promises,” you said, sitting back in your chair. “Gossip is the main trade commodity around these parts.”

“You’re gonna be rich then,” she chuckled.

“If people keep their secrets, which Nayeon didn’t.”

“Of course Nayeon didn’t,” she snorted. “Would she be Nayeon if she didn’t brag about rocking your world?”

“I knew things would seep out sooner or later,” you said. “At least there’s the fun in finding out who knows what.”

“There is a rumor that something happened with someone else,” she gave you a look. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well so far he’s kept his lips sealed,” you said, sipping back your drink.

“So the rumors are true, no one is safe.”

You shoved Siyeon as she laughed.

“Don’t say it like that! I’m not on the prowl. I am simply taking opportunities when they present themselves.”

“And so far you’ve had two then?”

“See I can’t tell if you think it should be more or less?” You chuckled.

“I’m not judging,” she said as she sipped. “I need more data to judge.”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “Leave me and my slutty ways alone. You know, I think it would be good for you.”

“Your slutty ways?” She chuckled.

“Being a bit more slutty in general. I mean unless you’re going to make a move…” You grinned as Siyeon’s cheeks flushed pink.

“I would make a move if there was a point,” she hissed. “I’m fine as it is.”

“Sure,” you said. “Of course you are. Chastising Jihoon for pining but doing nothing yourself.”

“Maybe your slutty ways are getting to your head,” she said.

“Says the girl who is desperately trying to pretend she’s okay with just flirting.”

Her face grew redder. “Well I’m not going to just walk into the dance studio and ask her to have sex now am I?”

“You could if you weren’t a coward.” You ducked away from her, slipping out of your seat and to the floor as she swung a pillow at your head.

“I am not a coward!” she cried.

You stood behind your chair, still snickering at her. “Prove it then.”

Siyeon stood from her chair and for a split second you thought she really was going to head to the dance studio before she kneeled on the seat of your chair and grabbed the front of your shirt, pulling you towards her. Her lips crashed against yours in a kiss that made you squeal in surprise. Her grip kept you close and as you relaxed into her kiss she pulled back just a little.

“Okay you know that wasn’t what I meant,” you chuckled.

“Maybe I need to have some fun too, take my mind off of her,” she murmured, giving you another quick kiss. Her hold on your shirt urged you to move around the chair towards her.

“You’ve got it too bad to have anything take your mind off her,” you chuckled.

She moved you until she had you pressed against the table. “Then think of it as practice. Let me gain some courage won’t you?”

“So I’m your guinea pig,” you giggled, jumping up and sitting on the table, grinning at her face, still flushed and close to yours.

“Oh shut up and kiss me properly.”

You were still laughing as you kissed her again. You let your arms wrap around her neck, letting your legs fall apart and pulling her closer. Siyeon’s hands found your hips as she pressed close against your chest, letting your tongue slip past her lips with a sigh.

You felt her fingers pressing into your skin, travelling along your thighs and back to your ass as you kissed her. Your fingers twirled into her hair, keeping her close to you and enjoying her lips on yours.

“So,” you hummed as she broke away for breath. “What are you planning for this little distraction?”

“You know I haven’t thought that far yet,” she murmured. “We’ll wing it. Tilt your head back for me.”

You did as she said, letting out a sigh as she started to kiss down your neck. You let your hands fall away from her, resting back on them and trying not to lean on the recording equipment. Siyeon’s lips travelled down your neck slowly, her hands gripping at your ass.

You let out a small moan as she pulled your strap off your shoulder and started to suck at a spot along your collarbone.

“That feels good,” you moaned, letting your head fall back.

“I know,” she hummed, pulling off your other strap. Her lips kissed lower, coming to the top of your chest and sucking the soft, sensitive skin with her lips. You let another moan slip past your lips, fingers slipping into her hair to hold her close to you and relaxing into the feeling.

“Anytime you need a distraction just let me know,” you murmured.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you could hear the grin in her voice. Her lips moved across your chest, slowly pushing more of your bra aside and leaving marks on your skin. You spared only a passing glance at the door. No one had any reason to be in the building at this time. And the only other one with access to the studio was Jihoon, and he was gone back to the cabin for the evening.

“Mmm that feels good,” you moaned. Siyeon’s hands kept moving, gripping at your ass and thighs before one came up to move the cup of your bra. She pulled it down ever slowly, lips trailing after her fingers. You sunk back, more of your weight on your arms as she sucked one of your nipples between her lips. A moan left yours and your gaze shifted down to meet hers, catching the grin that made the corner of her lips twitch.

Your eyes snapped open when you heard a sound on the other side of the door.

Siyeon pulled back quickly, both of you looking at each other, and then to the door.

“Did you hear that?” you whispered.

Siyeon nodded, looking between you and the door again before pressing a finger to her lips, signaling to you to be quiet before she stalked across the studio. Whoever was eavesdropping didn’t know you knew yet. You pulled the cup of your bra and your shirt back up to cover your chest, sitting up a little taller and crossing your legs while Siyeon threw open the door.

“Well hello there, Yoobin,” you could hear the smirk in her voice and couldn’t help the way it spread to your own lips.

“U-Uh H-Hi,” Yoobin mumbled. You held in your laugh as Siyeon reached out and grabbed her, dragging her into the studio. She shut the door behind the two of them, clicking the lock before she put herself between Yoobin and the door and slowly walked her back towards you.

“What were you doing out there?” Siyeon asked.

“I-I- was, I n-needed to talk to you- I h-had a question?” She sounded as if she was saying it like a question, shrinking into herself and cheeks growing rosier.

“What was the question?”

“I-I it u-uh it slipped my mind,” she stuttered.

“Did you hear that?” Siyeon said to you, still walking Yoobin towards you slowly. “She forgot her question.”

“What a shame,” you sighed. “Yoobin, you should just hang out here until you remember.”

“I-I can go,” she said. “I-I don’t want to be a bother.”

Siyeon cocked her head to the side. “You don’t? Are you sure?”

You let your legs fall open again and Yoobin ended up between them, jolting a bit when she backed into the edge of the table, now caught between you and Siyeon.

“O-Of course n-not!”

Your gaze trailed along her arms and down to your hand and a smirk tugged at your lips.

“Then why were you eavesdropping?” Siyeon questioned, a grin drawing across her face.

“I-I- didn’t- I was going- I would have-”

Siyeon leaned in closer to Yoobin and murmured. “You missed one of the buttons on your shorts.”

You grabbed Yoobin’s wrist, holding up her hand, fingers glistening.

“And your fingers are wet, cutie.”

Yoobin stammered but no words came out as her face flushed red. She sunk more in on herself, seeming a little shaky as you let your hand fall to her hips, giving her a soothing squeeze. Siyeon brought a finger to her chin and tilted her head back up.

“Did you think we were giving a free show?” Siyeon asked, a teasing tone to her voice.

Yoobin shook her head quickly. “N-No I-I- n-n- I wo-”

“How long were you going to be out there?” You teased. “Did you think we wouldn’t hear you moaning?”

“I-I thought I was qu-quiet,” she mumbled.

“Not quiet enough,” you murmured in her ear.

“You got started out there all on your own,” Siyeon gave her a fake pout. “It’s too lonely being by yourself.”

Yoobin glanced back at you quickly before looking at Siyeon again. She gave a little nod, her back pressing back against your chest now.

“What do you say we have a little fun with you?” Siyeon’s voice dipped lower and even with the words directed at Yoobin they had arousal shooting through your body. Yoobin’s breath caught as Siyeon drew her finger down the soft skin of her neck, waiting on her answer. “I promise we’ll be gentle with you.”

“Very gentle,” you murmured to her.

“Okay,” she sounded breathless as she answered, nodding quickly.

You caught Siyeon’s smirk at you before she leaned in to capture Yoobin in a soft kiss. You brought your lips to the side of her neck, starting to leave slow, gentle kisses on her warm skin. A grin graced your lips as Yoobin let out little sighs and whines against Siyeon’s lips.

You watched with a lazy gaze as Siyeon’s hands found Yoobin’s hips, slipping them between where your legs pressed against the sides of Yoobin’s body. She curled her fingers around the hem of Yoobin’s shirt before slowly lifting it up. You noticed the colour in Yoobin’s cheeks rising even more. Her face dropped and Siyeon pressed her lips to Yoobin’s forehead in a soft kiss. You brought your hands to squeeze her waist reassuringly and brought your lips to her ear.

“Can we see you, pretty girl?”

You caught the shy smile that tugged at her lips as she nodded and let Siyeon pull the shirt over her head. Siyeon brought Yoobin’s head back up, capturing her in another kiss as her hands started to roam over Yoobin’s shoulders and down to her chest. Yoobin’s arms fully wound around Siyeon’s neck.

You let your hands trail down her body slowly, from her waist around to her lower stomach. Then playing with the waist of her soft shorts. You let your fingers dip past the hem just a little, drawing soothing circles into her skin and bringing your lips to her ears.

“Are you getting needy yet, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” her whine was muffled by Siyeon’s lips but she pressed her legs open further for you. You chuckled at her eagerness, letting a hand slip down lower, teasing her. You brought your fingertips to the tops of her thighs and so close to her core without touching it, feeling her hips start to push towards your fingers.

You trailed your lips down to her neck, sucking lightly at her skin while your fingers danced around the edges of her core, not quite giving her what she wanted. You noticed Siyeon’s hands slipping up her body and around her back until they reached her bra. Her lips finally broke away from Yoobin’s, tipping her head back and kissing down her neck as she gently pulled her bra off.

A whine escaped from Yoobin’s lips, now unmuffled, which made both you and Siyeon chuckle. You dragged your nails lightly over her inner thigh.

“What do you need, pretty girl?”

“Please touch me properly,” her voice was quiet and whiny. She threw you a needy glance before a moan escaped her mouth as Siyeon grabbed her waist and began sucking one of her nipples between her lips.

“Anything you want,” you purred, slipping your fingers between her legs and dragging them through her folds.

You felt Yoobin shudder against you, letting out a shaky moan as she leaned back into you even more. You brought you free hand up to her chest, playing with her nipple between your fingers while Siyeon grabbed at her ass, Yoobin’s other nipple still between her lips.

Yoobin’s head fell back against your shoulder, letting out quiet moans. You gathered her slick on your fingertips before moving your fingers in circles over her clit. You felt her weight on you more heavily and the tremors that ran through her body as you both brought her more and more pleasure.

“You got yourself pretty wet out there,” You hummed to her.

“Can you blame her?” Siyeon chuckled. “Imagine hearing us but not seeing anything, coming up with it in your head.”

“There’s so many possibilities, but none of them are quite as good as the real thing,” you purred. “Isn’t that right, Yoobin?”

“Mhm,” her voice was whiny and sweet.

Siyeon stood up properly, grabbing Yoobin’s chin and gently shifting it to look at her. She let her other hand trail up Yoobin’s chest, teasing her already sensitive nipples as she went. “I just had a very fun idea.”

You lifted your head from where your lips had been kissing along Yoobin’s neck to meet Siyeon’s gaze, fingers between Yoobin’s legs slowing. “What did you have in mind?”

She leaned past both of you and you watched her movements as she woke the computer and plugged in her usb. A grin started to tug at your lips while confusion still coloured Yoobin’s expression, looking between the two of you and trying to subtly move her hips against your finger that had now stopped moving. Only when Siyeon hit the on button and the light turned red in the recording studio did her eyes go wide.

“O-Oh,” blush crept up Yoobin’s cheeks.

“What do you say we make a little memento,” Siyeon purred. “Something fun for all of us.”

The smirk was already pulling across your lips as you pulled your fingers from Yoobin’s shorts. You moved her away from the desk and slid off of it. “I’d love to.”

“I-I- would anyone f-find it?”

Siyeon kissed the end of her nose before stepping towards the studio. “Only if you share it with them. Don’t worry I won’t leave it on the computer for Jihoon to find.”

Yoobin blushed even harder and you took her hand on yours giving it a squeeze. She gave both of you a shy smile. “Th-This sounds pretty hot.”

“Exactly,” you hummed, giving her neck a quick kiss. Siyeon opened the door as you led Yoobin into the booth. The space was small for three but cozy. You let your arms wrap around Yoobin’s waist, pulling her in for a few kisses while Siyeon moved a few things back and set stools in the middle of the room, then gently pulling Yoobin away from you.

“Right over here, pretty girl,” she cooed, pulling Yoobin towards the stools. “Now bend over for me.” She placed a hand gently on Yoobin’s back and helped her bend over the stool. Yoobin grabbed the legs of the stool to brace herself as Siyeon took her shorts and panties in her fingers and slowly pulled them over her ass and down her legs.

“You are so cute,” you purred, sinking to your knees behind her. Your hands came up her legs gently and you spread them a little more, hearing her cute, slightly nervous giggle. Siyeon’s hands slid over her back before grabbing at her ass. Yoobin let out a cute moan and Siyeon shot you a smirk before grabbing one of Yoobin’s legs, bringing it up to rest her thigh on the other stool.

“Can you keep your legs open like this for us, pretty girl?” she purred.

“Mhm,” Yoobin nodded quickly, looking back through the legs of the stool at you as you ran your fingertips along her inner thighs and then through her folds. She let out a shaky breath, giving you a sweet, needy look.

You smirked at her as you let a finger start to tease her entrance, Siyeon leaning down to pressing kisses along her spine. Yoobin pressed her hips back towards you, letting out a whine.

“What do you think, Siyeon,” you said, teasing laced into your tone. “Do you think she’s ready for a finger?”

“I think she’s ready for more than one,” she replied, both of you smirking at the way Yoobin whimpered and pressed her hips back even more.

“Please,” she whined. “P-Please, I need it.”

You pressed a kiss to the back of her thigh. “Of course, since you’re asking so nicely.”

You brought two fingers to her entrance and slowly eased them into her core. Yoobin let out a moan, eyes fluttering shut and walls clenching around your fingers. You curled and turned them slowly, watching her grip on the legs of the stool tighten as moans started to leave her lips.

“You sound so good, pretty girl,” Siyeon cooed, her own voice growing a little breathy as she kissed down Yoobin’s back.

You caught your own bottom lip between your teeth as you listened to Yoobin’s moans. Each sound was sending a rush of arousal through your body, down your spine and to your core. You shifted, pressing your thighs together more and you kept your eyes on her face, watching it contort in pleasure.

You fingers found a steady pace in her core, searching for the angle she liked the most and feeling every tremor and shake that rocked through her body. Moans and whines were leaving her lips as you brought her more and more pleasure and Siyeon kneaded her ass, finally spreading her cheeks with her hands and kissing near the bottom of her tail bone.

Siyeon met your eyes for a moment in a heated gaze that sent arousal rushing through your body before her tongue came out, licking over Yoobin’s ass, then circling her hole with a moan.

Yoobin’s moans grew higher in her voice, more whines punctuating them at the new sensation. “P-Please d-don’t stop.” Her voice was shaky and so was her body and you could only imagine how the pleasure was building in her now. Thinking about it was only serving to make you wetter and wetter.

Siyeon’s moans mixed with Yoobin’s in the warm air of the studio, hands grabbing at Yoobin and eating her ass with more and more vigor as Yoobin’s moans grew louder. Your own fingers moved faster in her core and you felt her clenching more and more strongly around them.

You brought your other hand up her thigh until it was between her legs and rubbing her clit. A gasp fell from her lips as she shook, clinging to the stool as her face contorted and scrunched in pleasure, unable to form any full words but desperately rocking her hips back against the two of you the best she could.

Yoobin let out a high, pretty cry as she clenched hard around your fingers. Her whole body shook as she came, you and Siyeon holding her on the stool and holding her legs open to ride her through her high until she was pushing away from both of you and whimpering.

You sat back on your heels, pulling your drenched fingers from her core. Siyeon helped her off the stool and to her knees on the ground before leaning down, grabbing your wet hand, and taking your fingers into her mouth.

You couldn’t stop the moan that left your own lips at the sight, at Siyeon’s heat-filled gaze trained on you. Getting Yoobin off had turned you on immensely and the need between your legs was all but searing.

“You look pretty desperate,” Siyeon teased, letting your fingers fall from her mouth.

“You have no idea,” you breathed, shifting your hips a little, praying for any little bit of friction.

Siyeon grinned at you. “Get up here.” She grabbed your arms and pulled you to your feet, chuckling at the way you wobbled on them, already so worked up. She was quick to turn you around to face where Yoobin was on the floor, still catching her breath, and start to pull off your top from behind. Yoobin looked up at you with her hazy, blissful stare, bottom lip catching between her teeth as Siyeon undid your bra and let it fall aside. She pressed against your back, bringing her hands up you your chest and drawing a moan from you as she started to play with your breasts. Yoobin leaned forward, a little closer.

“Do you want to play too?” Siyeon asked her. Yoobin nodded quickly, a whine escaping her lips as she scrambled closer. Still on her knees she nestled between your legs and held your hips as she brought her lips up to your chest. You let a small moan past your lips as she took one of your nipples between her lip. Siyeon’s fingers played with the other, starting to roll your nipple between her fingers quickly.

Yoobin’s gaze grew glassy as she looked up at you. Her fingers kneaded into the skin of your hips rhythmically as she ran her tongue over your nipple and sucked at you, muffled moans leaving her own lips.

“Mmmm fuck,” you sighed, letting your head fall back against Siyeon’s shoulder. You knew you had to be dripping by this point. Your fingers curled around the edges of the stool as they both played with your nipples, legs spreading wider.

You started to angle your hips down, legs spread as wide as you could before rocking your hips. The tiny bit of friction you managed from subtly grinding down on the stool was worth it, even as you felt Siyeon’s free hand grip your hair before pulling your head back roughly, drawing a gasp from you.

“Are you that needy?” She teased, her voice a low murmur in your ear. “Do you need it that badly?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Fuck, please.”

“Yoobin,” Siyeon said sweetly. “They need your mouth somewhere else.”

You felt Siyeon release your hair and you tipped your head forwards again. A flush had rushed up Yoobin’s cheeks as she shifted back from your body and did as she was told. Her fingers found the buttons on your shorts, undoing them before pulling them down slowly. You lifted your hips from the stool to help her, letting your legs fall open once they were off.

Yoobin shifted closer again. Her movements were slow and cautious as she pressed a few kisses to your inner thighs, sweet doe-like eyes looking up at you and then Siyeon.

“Good girl,” Siyeon cooed. “Don’t worry. They’re so sensitive, anything you do will feel good.”

“Hey-” You felt heat rush up your face as you started to protest. But Siyeon tugged both your nipples between her fingers, interrupting your words with moans instead.

Yoobin moved her face between your legs and let her tongue run though your folds and over your clit. She let out a moan at your taste but it was nothing compared to the one that fell from your lips at the sensation.

A rush of arousal shot through your needy body, Siyeon’s fingers still moving on your nipples and working you up more. Even with Yoobin’s slow, slightly clumsy movements you still had a hand threading into her hair, still felt your high starting to build from the first few movements.

“O-Oh, fuck just like that,” your own voice was breathy and there was no hiding the desperation in it. “Keep doing that.”

Yoobin did just as she was told, repeating the movement with her tongue that was starting to send tremors through your body as your eyes fluttered and you focused on the pleasure building in you.

“You’re not even going to look at her when she’s pleasing you,” Siyeon teased. “Tsk tsk.”

“Feels too good,” you hummed. “Can’t open my eye- Oh fuck!” you cried as Siyeon tugged at your nipples again and Yoobin sucked your clit between her lips.

“Remind me if we do this again that you’re terrible at taking instructions,” Siyeon purred. “I’ll be sure to prepare some punishments.”

Any abashment had gone out the window as you moaned at her words, letting them sink into your mind and wrapping around all the ways she could punish you for not listening, all the ways you wanted to test her patience.

“Oh?” You could hear the smirk in her tone as she leaned in close to your ear, murmuring to you. “Am I learning something new about you? Is that what you want, to be punished when you don’t do what I tell you? Maybe next time I should tie you and see how long you last while I edge you, hm?”

“Fuck, please,” the coil was curling tighter and tighter in your core now, thighs trembling around Yoobin’s head as she ate you out faithfully, moaning against your core with each involuntary tug of her hair or rock or jolt of your hips. Siyeon’s fingers hadn’t stopped their ministrations on your sensitive nipples which only had the build towards release that much stronger.

“Maybe I’ll make you ride my fingers until you get off, and only if you’re good and loud and you cum for me will I give you my strap. Or maybe I’ll see just how many times you can cum until you just can’t take it anymore.” She purred.

“Fuck, yes,” each word she uttered whirred through your mind, drawing up pretty pictures in your imagination. The coil in your core curled tightly and tremors rocked through your body as they toyed with you, drawing you right to your edge.

“Maybe I’ll just have to turn you into a good little sub.”

Curses and moans cascaded from your lips as you came. The coil snapped, body releasing and pleasure rushing through you as you thighs crash in around Yoobin’s head, hand still in her hair, holding her close as your hips ground against her face and Siyeon’s fingers played with your nipples roughly. A wave of utter bliss washed over you until you were slumped back against Siyeon’s chest, shaking and panting.

She helped you down to the floor and you leaned against Yoobin as you caught your breath. Through heavily lidded eyes you looked up at Siyeon as she gazed down at both of you. Slowly, she pulled her shirt over her head, shaking out her hair before throwing her shirt to the side. Her fingers came to the zipper on her shorts and she undid them, swaying her hips before turning to give both of you a view of her ass as she pulled them down.

A smirk curled her lips at the way both of you leaned towards her, wrapped up in her little show. She took her time reaching behind herself to take off her bra and letting it fall away before slipping her panties down her legs.

An air of smugness came over her as she sat on the stool, spreading her legs and drawing a moan from each of you. You both shifted closer but Siyeon held up her hand.

“No touching yet,” she purred. You both watched intently as she drew two fingers through her folds before pressing them into her heat, a sigh falling from her lips. She pulled them out slowly and you felt your jaw falling open, nearly drooling at her glistening fingers, her own slick coating them and dripping from both her fingers and her core.

“Look what you’ve both done to me,” she said. You both shifted as close as she’d allow you before Yoobin let her tongue hang out of her mouth needily.

“Do you want a taste, pretty girl?” she cooed, pressing her fingers back into her heat and pumping them slowly.

“Please,” Yoobin whined, nodding quickly.

A pout formed on your lips and you let your lips fall to Siyeon’s thigh, starting to suck marks into her skin as Siyeon stuck her fingers into Yoobin’s mouth.

“You’re needy again already?” She teased you. You let out a small moan against her skin and Siyeon threaded her fingers into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. You let your eyes fall closed, feeling comforted in your post orgasm state.

You felt Yoobin shifting closer, no doubt drawn in by Siyeon’s fingers. A whine hit your ears as her mouth was left empty. Siyeon hushed her before her hand disappeared from your head. You looked up at her just as Yoobin’s lips made their way between her legs. A low moan fell from Siyeon’s lips and as you opened your mouth to speak she shoved her fingers into your mouth, wet again with her arousal.

“I know you wanted a taste too,” she teased. You nodded at her, humming as you ran your tongue around her fingers, sucking them clean. Her other hand had found its way into Yoobin’s hair now, holding her close as she shifted her attention back to the girl between her legs.

“Just like that, pretty girl,” she cooed, praising her. Slowly, she pulled her fingers from your mouth and you felt the corner of your lips twitch as an idea came to mind. You pressed up against Yoobin’s back, a hand sliding between her legs.

She let out a gasping moan as your fingers came to her clit, rubbing it quickly. She moaned against Siyeon’s core which drew louder moans from Siyeon’s lips. You kissed along Yoobin’s neck as your fingers worked her up quickly, her own hands gripping Siyeon as she ate her out more shakily.

“Mmm that’s good,” Siyeon moaned, letting her head fall back. Yoobin only ate her out more needily as you brought her closer to another release, finding the sensitive spots on her neck to kiss and nip at.

Both of their moans only had your fingers moving faster, finding just the right movements of your fingers to draw gasps and whines from Yoobin’s lips, her thighs started to shake around you hand as you kissed along her jaw until she pulled back from Siyeon, crying out and clamping her thighs around your hand as she came.

She had a sweet, hazy look on her face as you helped her sit back before you took her place between Siyeon’s legs. She opened her mouth to speak to you but only managed a moan as you ran your tongue over her clit, eyes locked on her face and watching her every reaction to the movements of your tongue.

You greedily brought yourself lower, letting your tongue dip inside of her and tasting more of her arousal on your tongue as she moaned, grabbing at your hair again. You pressed in closer, starting to fuck her with your tongue, a hand coming up to play with her clit.

“Holy fuck, keep doing that,” she moaned, finally letting her own eyes fall closed.

You curled your tongue inside her, trying to make her hips buck and grind against your face and feeling each and every one of her tremors. Moans cascaded off her lips, louder than either yours or Yoobin’s. One hand gripping at the stool and the other holding your hair.

You moved your fingers quickly, rubbing her clit in quick circles as you ran your tongue as deeply into her core as you could, feeling her clench around it, her arousal running into your mouth and down your chin as she got closer and closer.

“Yes, fuck, just like that, oh fuck don’t stop,” the words and curses tumbled from her lips as she ground against your face as much as you would let her, trying to get even more. Her grip in your hair tightened as she got closer and closer to her release. Each tug on your hair drew a moan from your own lips that you knew was vibrating through her body.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” her voice was climbing higher and growing louder. She leaned back as much as she could on the stool without falling while she gave in to pleasure.

A cry left her lips as she came, clenching around your tongue and releasing her sweet juices onto it which you lapped up eagerly. Her thighs pressed in around your head and her hand pulled from your hair, shakily grabbing your wrist to stop your fingers.

With shaky breaths she slipped from the stool to join you both on the floor, messily kissing both of you and smiling against your lips.

“That was so good,” Yoobin murmured.

“Agreed,” you hummed.

“And we have a memento,” Siyeon said breathily, reminding you that the recording equipment was still running.

“Perfect for a lonely night,” Yoobin mumbled.

Siyeon looked between the two of you. “If either of you are ever lonely, just let me know.” She smirked. “I’ll warm you up.”

You both giggled as you relaxed back against the wall, Siyeon shifting to join you. “Just make sure you don’t leave that on the computer,” you warned. “I don’t think I could ever look Jihoon in the eye again.”

“I don’t think I could look at anyone else who hears it ever again,” Yoobin said, blushing.

“Don’t you worry,” Siyeon hummed. “Some people are dumb enough to do that, but I’m not.”

You sat up suddenly. “Wait who?”

“Yeah, I wanna know,” Yoobin chimed in.

“It’s a secret,” she grinned. The two of you protested but she just chuckled. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day, but you’re really gonna have to work to earn that gossip.”

#camp north star au #cns au #dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher smut #siyeon imagines #siyeon smut #lee siyeon imagines #lee siyeon smut #dami imagines #dami smut #yoobin imagines #yoobin smut #lee yoobin imagines #yubin imagines #yubin smut #lee yubin imagines #lee yubin smut #afab reader

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edenmemes · 4 years

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uncharted sentence starters

❝ if you’re done lying to me, then you should stop lying to yourself. ❞ ❝ it’s not going to be easy, you know. ❞ ❝ well, it sounds like you’re working for a nutcase. ❞ ❝ make sure that you’re safe. ❞ ❝ look, i wanted to tell you! i wanted to! but how could i? ❞ ❝ see? i’m not just a pretty face. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry for what happened to you. ❞ ❝ i think i have a bit more experience with this thing than you do. ❞ ❝ wait, wait, wait. something about this feels kinda hinky. ❞ ❝ what a warm and homey place, huh? ❞ ❝ i’m willing to forgive and forget. for old time’s sake. ❞ ❝ looks like he was killed. ripped to shreds actually. ❞ ❝ these guys have been tailing me for weeks. thought i lost them. ❞ ❝ should i be flattered, or worried? ❞ ❝ so with our luck, what’s the odds this volcano is going to erupt on us? ❞ ❝ i hope i don’t go to hell for this. ❞ ❝ i can handle this. i’m tough. i grew up with nuns. ❞ ❝ fair warning, last person who betrayed me wound up dead. ❞ ❝ you told me you’d say out of trouble. ❞ ❝ how do i know you’re real? ❞ ❝ don’t ever point a gun at me again. ❞ ❝ make sure that you’re safe. ❞ ❝ i have made a lot of mistakes. a lot. i’m not a perfect man. ❞ ❝ i had a lousy father. lousy childhood. ❞ ❝ sounds terrible. check his wallet. ❞ ❝ let's not forget who walked out on whom. you don't get to be jealous. ❞ ❝ progress demands sacrafice. ❞ ❝ shut up. i really thought you were gone this time. ❞ ❝ i can’t leave you alone for one minute, can i? ❞ ❝ on a scale of 1-10, how scared were you that i was gonna die? ❞ ❝ i can’t walk away. i’m tired of walking away. ❞ ❝ even an enemy must be fed and sheltered. are you my enemy? ❞ ❝ we can still stop him. i can help you. ❞ ❝ gotta say, you have a real knack for breaking things. ❞ ❝ do as i say not as i do. ❞ ❝ looks like hell spit you back out. ❞ ❝ what’s your story, anyway? ❞ ❝ i don’t take big risks without a good payday. ❞ ❝ i guess it runs in the family, huh? ❞ ❝ you can’t reform the villain and save the day. it’s just not done like that. ❞ ❝ sorry, i just need to get my head back in the game. ❞ ❝ this isn’t our fight. it’s my fight. ❞ ❝ i won’t let them hurt you. ❞ ❝ skip the mind games. you don’t know me. ❞ ❝ no offense, but your ancestor was a right asshole. ❞ ❝ you’re unusually quiet. what’s up your bum? ❞ ❝ that was my last cigarette. ❞ ❝ okay, well, why don’t you just walk away? ❞ ❝ why this obsession? i’m just worried. ❞ ❝ i can’t...i can’t breathe...i just...can’t breathe... ❞ ❝ don’t touch me. get away from me. ❞ ❝ if you let these bastards win - after this - i will never forgive you. ❞ ❝ you’ve got your pride all tangled up in this thing. it’s making you reckless. ❞ ❝ any trouble you shoot first and ask questions later. ❞ ❝ dangerous to be out so late. ❞ ❝ easy now. look at me. ❞ ❝ my leg! don’t touch it! i know it’s broken! ❞ ❝ are you going to join me, darling? ❞ ❝ this is my gig. you want your share, you play by my rules. ❞ ❝ we don’t get to choose how we start in life. real greatness? it’s what you do with the hand you’re dealt. ❞ ❝ i always felt that we were destined for something great. ❞ ❝ you should relax. you’ll live longer. ❞ ❝ i taught you better than that. ❞ ❝ so that’s a no? felt like a no. ❞ ❝ quit acting like you’re gonna lie down and die, all right? ❞ ❝ i have a spare bed. ❞ ❝ is there no bottom for your ignorance? ❞ ❝ even cornered dogs bite back. ❞ ❝ that one is my favourite. it makes your eyes twinkle. ❞ ❝ admit it. you’re gonna miss this ass. ❞ ❝ you think i’m a monster, but you’re no different from me. ❞ ❝ how many people have you killed? how many? ❞ ❝ you will not stand in the way of destiny. ❞ ❝ you stick with me, i’ll teach you a few things. ❞ ❝ well, if you’d like, i can tell you where to stick it. ❞ ❝ face it, genius, you’ve been played. ❞ ❝ yeah, keep smiling, asshole. ❞ ❝ i got nothing to prove. ❞ ❝ don’t hand it to me. i’ve had everything handed to me ❞ ❝ you don’t know when to give up, do you? ❞ ❝ you stick your neck out, you’re asking to lose your head. ❞ ❝ oh, and now you’re blushing. ❞ ❝ just so you know, it’s not my first lost city. ❞ ❝ are you always this clever? ❞ ❝ i was trying to rescue you, as a matter of fact. ❞ ❝ you know, at this point, i’ve run out of words. ❞ ❝ what do you say we really ruin this guy’s day? ❞ ❝ whether you die or not, i don’t really care. ❞ ❝ i thought you...i saw you get shot. ❞ ❝ it’s like a camera. you just...point and shoot, right? ❞ ❝ god, who’s being unprofessional now? ❞ ❝ i always knew you were gonna make something of yourself one day. ❞ ❝ let’s just pretend i skipped all of sunday school. ❞ ❝ oh no you didn’t do that. that’s not funny! ❞ ❝ save the world, triumph over evil. ❞ ❝ are you trying to kill me? ❞ ❝ know what i love about partying with a bunch of crooks? nobody cares that you smoke indoors. ❞ ❝ you gave me a goddamn heartattack. ❞ ❝ i’ll die a thousand deaths before i let you win. ❞ ❝ i didn’t tell you because i was afraid...of losing you. ❞ ❝ what ever happened to just living a normal life? ❞ ❝ even if you think you’re protecting me, you don’t have a right to shut me out like that. ❞ ❝ i mean... thanks for saving me. ❞ ❝ en garde, dickhead. ❞ ❝ i love you. ❞ ❝ come on! we can get out of here together. ❞ ❝ everything i touch turns to shit. ❞ ❝ how did you find me anyway? ❞ ❝ i’ve got my eye on you. ❞ ❝ you were going to sell me out, weren’t you? ❞ ❝ love to know what you’re thinking. ❞ ❝ well, well, well. get it? ‘cause you know, it’s a well. ❞ ❝ it’s a shame we’re leaving empty handed though. ❞ ❝ okay...yeah...how do i look? ❞ ❝ thank me after we get out of this alive. ❞ ❝ you’re lucky that i found you when i did. ❞ ❝ they’re just saying that because it gets to you. ❞ ❝ look, if you’re into shady stuff it’s totally cool. ❞ ❝ ha. that’s my girl. ❞ ❝ i made a promise that i was done with this life. ❞ ❝ listen, sunshine, the world doesn’t care. ❞ ❝ well, that’s it. now you know everything. ❞ ❝ don’t even think about not coming back. ❞ ❝ you know, i shot the man who told me that. ❞ ❝ i thought that i’d be satisfied. instead, i’m left with this strange feeling of emptiness. ❞ ❝ as thrilling as the next adventure may be, in the end, you’re always left with that same feeling. ❞ ❝ you know, i didn’t think i could trust you either. ❞ ❝ i almost lost you once before. i just can’t do that again. ❞ ❝ don’t even think about not coming back. ❞ ❝ that’s it! no compassion! no mercy! ❞ ❝ sentimentality in this line of work will get you killed. ❞ ❝ i need your help...and you need mine. ❞ ❝ i kept your tears in a jar. ❞ ❝ i expected you to have my back. ❞ ❝ tell you what. when i get back, pizza’s on me. ❞ ❝ death. it smelled like death. ❞ ❝ so they have beaten you, eh? your quest’s over? ❞ ❝ you listen to your mum, okay? ❞ ❝ trust me - your ego will mend. ❞ ❝ i hope i live to regret this. ❞ ❝ these men were all shot. ❞ ❝ be a lot easier just to let go. ❞ ❝ what? no witty remark? nothing clever to say? ❞ ❝ seems like i am always saving your ass. ❞ ❝ i never asked for any of your bloody heroics. ❞ ❝ the guys in prison used to say, ‘you can steal to eat or you can steal to get rich.’ i say, why not both? ❞ ❝ you were never a chocolate and flower kinda girl. ❞ ❝ i don’t have your luck. people like me know when to walk away from the table. ❞ ❝ appreciate the update, captain obvious. ❞ ❝ you made your choice. ❞ ❝ don’t tell me you’re buying all into that supernatural nonsense. ❞ ❝ i couldn’t sleep last time i saw that. ❞ ❝ it’s actually nice working with a woman for a change. ❞ ❝ i’m lucky you’re on my side. ❞ ❝ do you really think all this really could be true? ❞ ❝ you know, it’s kind of romantic down here. ❞ ❝ just wish i’d brought something to read. ❞ ❝ you can relax. we’re safe here. ❞ ❝ i am surrounded by traitors and fools. ❞ ❝ just don’t get us killed. ❞ ❝ what are you shaking for? ❞ ❝ parents must be worried about you. ❞ ❝ i wonder what you’re really scared of...not bullets, or blood, or broken bones... ❞ ❝ i don’t need your bullet-ridden-corpse on my conscience. let’s go. ❞ ❝ yeah, i’m fine. oh, but - you’re bleeding. ❞ ❝ i do seem to attract the scum of the earth. ah - no offense. ❞ ❝ all this grandeur, hidden away from the world. ❞ ❝ if we don’t make it out here, i just want you to know - i hate your guts. ❞ ❝ i’ve got a bad feeling about this place. ❞ ❝ that’s my blood. that’s my blood. that’s a lot of my blood. ❞ ❝ you should play the hero more often. it suits you. ❞ ❝ eyes ahead, don’t look down. ❞ ❝ here - grab my hand. ❞ ❝ no matter what it is, you’re supposed to come to me so we can work it out together… as a team. ❞ ❝ you know nothing is ever truly destroyed. just purified and reborn. ❞ ❝ you just - totally crushed that moment. you know that, right? ❞ ❝ you’re a selfish dickhead. ❞ ❝ i do speak a little bit of ____, you know. wait, what did you say? ❞ ❝ i know you. you’re no hero. ❞ ❝ i wish you could’ve been there. ❞ ❝ hey, are you happy? ❞ ❝ you’re not gonna pass out on me or nothing, are you? ❞ ❝ look, i...um....i’m not good with the whole people thing. ❞ ❝ i’ve had worse nights, believe me. ❞ ❝ let’s find somewhere a little more private. ❞ ❝ hey, take it easy. you’ve been out for almost half an hour. ❞ ❝ to rule people, you first must sow chaos. ❞ ❝ it’s not stealing if it was mine to begin with. ❞ ❝ take me with you. ❞ ❝ i’m left with this strange feeling of emptiness. ❞ ❝ anyone ever tell you, you have a funny idea of romantic? ❞ ❝ it’s nothing that years of therapy won’t fix. ❞ ❝ no. it’s my turn to walk away. ❞ ❝ nothing about our lives have been fair, but we’ve made it work. ❞ ❝ your people will beg me to save them. ❞ ❝ we’re not on a first-name basis. ❞ ❝ you know nothing about me. ❞ ❝ do tell. maybe over some drinks? ❞ ❝ we must keep to the shadows. ❞ ❝ hey, you cool? ‘cause i need you to be cool. ❞ ❝ you must be tired of these lectures. i know i’m tired of giving them. ❞ ❝ here, take this. you’ll catch a cold. ❞ ❝ is that a sin? i think that’s a sin. ❞

#rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #long post for ts /#this new dashboard is so gross ....................

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kimistorm · 3 years

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Tomato Face [Nathaniel x f! Reader]

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Nathaniel x F!reader

Warnings: None

AN: Experimental epistolary writing!

Dear Diary.

Nathaniel Kurtzberg is the prettiest boy I have ever met, and nobody can convince me otherwise. Not even Adrien Agreste. He is also an insanely talented artist. Even if he doesn’t believe he is. And...he just happens to be the one person in the entire school who stole my heart. He is just, so wonderful to be around. He’s so sweet and kind. Okay, so I’m crushing on him. So what? It’s not like he likes me. He never could. Could he? No, stop, stop getting your hopes up. Why would he like me? I’m just, normal. I don’t run a famous blog about Ladybug like Alya. I’m not loved by everyone in the school like Marinette. I’m not sweet and adorable like Mylène. I’m not rich like Chloe. Okay, maybe not the best comparison. I wouldn’t want to be like Chloe. I’m not an artist like Alix. Yeah, those two would get together. Both of them are artists. They’d do art together. Me? Well, I just like to vegetate and binge watch Netflix and YouTube. Maybe I could become a superhero! Like Ladybug and Chat Noir! Maybe then I’d have something interesting in my life. I’d be able to practically fly around Paris saving people. People would love me! I’d be a hero! But then...what if I didn’t have the time to watch all of Jacksepticeye’s videos? That’d be so bad! Miss Bustier told us to read Le Petite Prince and to compare that to the movie. Ugh. I don’t want to do this. It’s a book for children! Well, I’m going to binge My Hero Academia.

(y/n)

To: This notebook that is definitely not my diary,

(y/n) is really nice. Pretty. Wonderful. Kind. Lovely. What is a crush? Is it normal to get butterflies in your stomach whenever you walk by a person? Why is my face always red whenever I’m near (y/n)? Why is it that I want her to notice me, but at the same time, I don’t want her to notice me because what if she sees me doing something weird and concludes that I am weird? Is it weird that I want to draw her? But what if she notices me staring at her? That’d be so awkward. It’s not like when I draw Ladybug. I don’t have to stare at Ladybug to draw her. I can just look at a picture, but with (y/n)...what if I took a picture of her? Then used that as reference? No, that’s even weirder. Then I just have a random picture of her on my phone. What if she sees? She’d definitely think I was a weirdo. Maybe Alix would know the answer to all of these questions. She’s a girl. No, that’s a bad idea. I don’t think Alix has a crush on anybody. She wouldn’t know. Why is human interaction so hard? It’s not like a drawing where you can plan out what happens and if you make a mistake you can erase it and it’s gone. Is this a crush? Is this what they call loving someone? But who wouldn’t like (y/n)? She’s got a beautiful smile. She’s very pretty. She’s very nice and kind to everyone. She’s almost like an angel. Oh….

Nathaniel

To: This notebook that is definitely not my diary,

Mayday! Mayday! I told Alix about my feelings for (y/n), I don’t know why I did it. It just happened. We were talking and it just-AH! Good news, Alix didn’t laugh at me. Bad new, Alix called me “whipped.” She said that I’m totally head over heels for her and that I should tell her how I feel, but how am I supposed to do that? I’m nowhere near (y/n) in the day. It’s always been from afar. Watching. Oh no that sounds like I’m a stalker! She definitely thinks I’m a weirdo now! She’s some ethereal being, no way I could approach her. Maybe I could talk to one of her friends. Yeah, that would work. But, if I’m near one of her friends, what if I accidentally spill how much I’m in love with (y/n) and they tell her and then she thinks I’m a weirdo! Maybe I’ll get Alix to talk to her. But then, what if she thinks I’m a jerk because I don’t even talk to her? What if she thinks that I think that I’m too good for her? No way, she’s way out of my league. There’s no way she could like someone like me.

Nathaniel

Dear Diary,

What if I cosplayed Bakugou? Maybe then I would get off of my butt and do something. Nathaniel has been acting weird lately. Not that I’m stalking him or anything. He’s just been avoiding me, and I’m pretty sure he’s consciously doing that. Since we passed each other in the hall today and when I said hi, he turned around and walked the other direction without saying anything. Did I do something wrong? It hurts. Here I am, harboring this insane crush on him, and he’s ignoring my presence. I need to get over him. There’s no way he could like someone like me.

(y/n)

TO: THIS NOTEBOOK THAT IS DEFINITELY NOT MY DIARY,

THIS IS BAD THIS IS BAD THIS IS REALLY REALLY BAD. FOR SOME REASON, AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHY, NINO GOT ME COFFEE THIS MORNING. BUT I DON’T DRINK COFFEE. AND SO THIS ENTIRE DAY I’VE BEEN AMPED UP. I COULDN’T EVEN DRAW ANYTHING I WAS SHAKING SO MUCH. IF THIS IS WHAT CAFFEINE DOES TO ME I DON’T NEED IT. THEN, AT THE END OF THE DAY, I SOMEHOW HAD THE COURAGE TO GO TALK TO (Y/N). FACE TO FACE. WHO IS THIS PERSON? I DON’T DO THAT. WAS THIS COFFEE SPIKED WITH ADRENALINE OR SOMETHING? BUT THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN! I WAS WALKING OVER TO HER, AND CHLOE SUDDENLY APPEARS OUT OF NOWHERE AND I TRIPPED. I DON’T KNOW WHAT I TRIPPED OVER BUT THE NEXT THING I KNOW MY LIPS ARE SMASHED AGAINST CHLOE’S LIPS AND (Y/N) SAW! WAIT, NOT JUST (Y/N). EVERYONE. EVERYONE. EVERYONE. EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE SCHOOL SAW! IT WAS ON THE FRONT STEPS! OF COURSE EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE SCHOOL SAW! AND YOU KNOW WHAT I DID? I RAN. OBVIOUSLY I RAN! I NEEDED TO GET OUT OF THAT SITUATION! IT WAS SO EMBARRASSING! I DON’T EVEN LIKE CHLOE! WHAT DO I DO?

NATHANIEL

Dear Diary,

Well. Today was just peachy. I saw Nathaniel on the front steps of the school practically eating Chloe’s face, and, well, my heart shattered. I didn’t think Nathaniel was that bold. Tomorrow everyone’s going to know how the two of them are dating. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.

(y/n)

“H-hey, (y/n).” You looked up to see Nathaniel awkwardly approaching you.

You tried to brace your heart, “h-hi.”

“So, you uh, I’m sure you did, you saw the uh, thing that happened on the, uh, front steps yesterday.”

“Yeah.” You answered carefully. The boy in front of you was avoiding your gaze, and it made you wary.

“That was all, uh, a mistake. Yeah, a mistake. I don’t like Chloe. At all. It was, I, I don’t even know. One moment I was, I was, trying to talk to, to you, and then she was there, and then I tripped, and then I was kissing her.” He stammered, “not that I wanted to!” he then shouted in a panicked fashion. “It was an accident.”

“Why are you telling me?” you asked carefully. Your heart was starting to rise in anticipation, but you shook your head. You weren’t going to get your hopes up again.

“BecauseIwantedtoaskyoutogoonadatewithme.” He mumbled under his breath.

“W-what?” did he just say what you thought he said.

“I was on the front steps of the building that day becauseIwantedtoaskyoutogoonadatewithme!” he shouted.

“I…what?” you still couldn’t understand what he was trying to say.

He took a deep breath and asked the floor, “do you want to go on a date?”

Your heart soared, “that thing with Chloe, it was all just an accident?” you asked shyly.

“Yeah.” He murmured, and your heart pieced itself back together.

“H-hey, Nathaniel.”

“Hm?” he asked and looked up from the floor to you.

“I’d love to go on a date with you,” you replied happily and leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips that left the two of you blushing redder than Nathaniel’s hair.

“Ugh!” a voice shouted from the end of the hall and the two of you whipped around to see Chloe standing angrily. “I can’t believe you two still got together! Even after yesterday!”

“Way to ruin the moment.” Nathaniel muttered.

“Come on, let’s go.” You took his hand and the two of you walked away from Chloe.

To: This notebook that is definitely not my diary,

She loves me! She’s not mad at me. She doesn’t think I’m weird. We’re going to go on a date together. Nothing could get me down. Cloud 9. I think that’s what it’s called. I’m on Cloud 9.

Nathaniel.

Dear Diary,

Today was fantastic. Yesterday was all just a misunderstanding. It was just Chloe being Chloe. But he likes me. He actually likes me! We’re going to go on a date together! Today is a wonderful day.

(y/n)

“Do I look good?” Nathaniel asked worriedly as he looked at Adrien and Nino. Alix was busy at a skating competition, but she sent him best of luck.

“‘Course you do!” Nino smiled.

“Maybe I should change jackets.” Nathaniel worriedly looked at himself in the mirror. He was wearing his normal purple pants, a white button-up, and his normal gray jacket. “It’s too normal.”

“If you were wearing something fancier, it’d look like you were going to prom.” Nino blurted out, but Adrien elbowed him, “I mean! You look great already!”

“There’s no need to get too fancied up,” Adrien smiled, “now come on, if you don’t get going, you might be late to pick her up.”

“Oh no!” Nathaniel panicked.

“Hey, don’t panic,” Adrien told him soothingly, “look, you’ve got your phone, you’ve got your wallet, you’re good to go. You’ll make it with time to spare.”

Nathaniel took a deep breath, “thanks guys.”

“No problem. Now go!” Nino shooed Nathaniel.

#mlb #kimi's writing #miraculous ladybug imagine #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug fluff #miraculous ladybug fanfic #nathaniel #nathaniel mlb x reader #nathaniel kurtzberg #nathaniel kurtzberg x reader #nathaniel x reader #nathaniel kurtzberg fluff #nathaniel kurtzberg angst #miraculous ladybug angst

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tsukkiseasalt · 3 years

Text

Eyes That Won’t Wonder

“What, what!?” You shriek.

Another low laugh erupts from him as he leans against the door, his large frame blocking any potential view of the inside.

“I believe that is a compliment.” He mumbles his lips curling up into a sly smile.

“Y-yeah, it was.” You stammer, words barely making themselves out of you as your stomach begins to do cartwheels.

“As much as I'd love to stay right here and chat, you’d probably find it to be much more comfortable inside.” He says, smile fully present now, and you take a moment to admire the sight-storing it in your mind. He moves enough for you to slip right past him and pause the moment your feet touch the dark hardwood floors.

The aroma is the first thing that invades your senses. It smells of pine and a rich tobacco, with slight hints of something sweet- maybe vanilla, you can’t really tell. The home is just as beautiful on the inside as it appeared from the outside. The dark hardwood floors complimented the ivory walls and dark rust colored trim. The living room was sparsely decorated though, it had only one couch, a chestnut loveseat and a matching recliner. He obviously doesn’t get many visitors.

“Your home is beautiful.” You say breathlessly, eyes roaming the space in awe.

“Thank you.” He exclaims, a large hand grazing the small of your back as he slips behind you and towards the kitchen. His touch makes your knees go weak and you steady yourself by placing a shaky hand on the door.

“Would you like something to drink?” You hear him call from the kitchen.

“Ah, water please.” You answer, taking a few deep breaths before you saunter over to the counter placing your folder in front of you. He slides the glass in front of you and you nod as a thank you before you begin to sip.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name.” He says leaning back onto the fridge, arms folded over his massive chest.

“Oh, uh, my name is y/n y/ln.” You mumble your index finger rubbing the rim of the glass.

“Lovely, it fits you.” He says, eyes catching your own. You can't help the blush that arises on your cheeks.

“T-thank you.” You manage to stammer out, silently cursing yourself for getting so flustered so quickly. He was a patient not some guy at a bar, you needed to get a grip and you needed to get it fast. “Uhm, you’re a bit younger than most of the other patients i have worked for. Is there actually anything wrong with you?” You quiz, but the words come out a bit harsher than you intended. “Oh goodness, I did not mean that in a bad way at all sir- Mr. Wakatoshi, oh my goodness. I am so sorry.” You exhale letting your head fall into your hands. Your words are all becoming a jumbled mess and you can't help the shame that creeps up your throat. Great, now he probably thinks I'm some kind of asshole.

“No, it's okay. I understand what you were trying to say. Two years ago I had to get a disc in my back replaced and it took a lot out of me. Though I can still get around pretty well, there are still certain tasks that I need help with. I am also set to have another surgery on my knee two months from now, so I thought it would be better to have someone get accustomed to me and my habits beforehands.” He says voice monotone. Is he angry?

“Mr. Wakatoshi, I am so sorry if I came off as rude earlier- I didn’t mean to offend.” You say feeling guilty.

He shakes his head. “You’re fine sweetheart, I’m actually quite flattered that you think that.” Before you have a chance to relish his words he starts again, “I’m going to go put some clothes on, but here. I made a list- well a schedule really- of how my day usually functions. You can look over it and if there is anything that seems to be a bit much for you let me know and we will make alterations to it.” He says walking out of the kitchen and returning with a piece of paper. “Here, I will return shortly.” He says handing you the paper. Your eyes skim the page as you read the text.

7:30am- Arrive & make coffee ( I prefer mine black)

7:45am- Read the newspaper

8:00am- Feed Randy & Lyle

8:15am- Pour second cup of coffee & wash dishes

8:30-9:30am- 2nd Workout (If you could have a bowl of fruits waiting that would be lovely)

10:00am- Post shower stretch (Help isn’t required but appreciated)

10:30-12:00pm- Take Lyle to the park (You are more than welcomed to join us)

12:30pm- Lunch / with Aone* (*Mon. & Thurs. only)

1:00pm- Stop at farmers market

1:30pm- Arrive home & check on Randy

1:35-4:00pm- Varies (You may leave at this time or you may stay for dinner.)

4:00-6:00pm- Prepare dinner

6:05- 6:45pm- Eat then wash dishes

All that is required of you is bolded, the italicized text is completely voluntary, though I would enjoy your company.

“Goodness.” You mumble, placing the paper down. “This is even less than I did with Washijō.” You thought you had it easy then just checking his oxygen, helping him up, and taking him wherever, but you were basically an in-home barista.

“I hope it isn't too much.” The voice startles you as he appears beside you now fully clothed- well not really. He had on a pair of dark sweatpants and a gray sleeveless shirt putting biceps on display for all to see.

“Uh, no, not at all sir. I was expecting much more actually.” You admit eyes darting between the paper and his arms.

“Oh, well I'm sorry to disappoint you.” He says voice low as he bends down to tie his shoes. “I’m sure that there will be more for you to do after my knee surgery.”

“Yes, and I'm not disappointed sir, I'm honestly kind of relieved. I haven't worked with anyone in quite a while, so this is a good refresher to allow me to get back into the routine of things.” You say words falling from your lips before you realize it.

“Is that so?” He asks standing back up to his full height, face full of curiosity.

“Yes, my previous patient passed away and I took some time off. He and I were close, friends even, and the death really hit me hard even though I knew it was coming. It still hurts ya know.” You exclaim as feelings of sadness wash over you at the thought of your friend.

You didn't know what you were expecting when you told him that, maybe an ‘i'm sorry for your loss’ or nothing at all but it is safe to say a hug was not one of those things. His body was warm and his chest was solid- it felt good. You wrapped your own arms around his waist and closed your eyes.

“I hope that one day you and I could be friends as well.” He says quietly pulling away.

You don't fight the smile that graces your face, “Yeah, I feel like we will.”

The words seem to liven him because a large smile spreads across his face again. “Well I’m gonna go lift now, feel free to look around. There's food in the fridge and snacks in the pantry. Make yourself at home.” He says walking to the back of his home.

“Oh, Mr. Wakatoshi!”

“Yes love?” He asks, turning back around, a smile still lingering on his lips.

“Who are Lyle and Randy?” You ask looking back down at the paper, partly to hide the blush that you are now sporting. “Are they your children?”

“Yes, they are my children. I’ll introduce you when I return.” He laughs before turning back around and disappearing into a hallway.

You sigh as soon as he is out of eyesight dropping your head onto the cool marble countertop, raising your head just enough to read the time on the clock that sits unwavering by stairs. 8:37. You had just under an hour to get somewhat acquainted with the home you would now be in for ten hours a day for six days a week. You decide to begin with the kitchen, opening and closing drawers & cabinets identifying the contents within them, occasionally rubbing a light hand over them. Next is the living room. The wide open space is mostly vacant and you take a seat on the loveseat sinking back into the cushions. “Nice.” You mumble.

Pushing yourself up you wonder to every room opening the door just enough for you to peek in and see what it is. You hesitate though when you get to the room at the end of the hallway. It’s his. You could sense it, nonetheless you slowly push the knob down and peek inside. It’s clean just like the rest of his home. You don't linger and decide its best to close the door & move onto the next.

By 9:15 you’d looked throughout his entire home, and it was more beautiful than you could have imagined. The ceilings in the bathrooms were high and had beautiful artworks painted atop of them, they looked as though they belonged in a museum rather than someone's guest bathroom. The spare bedrooms were just as lovely. Each had a shelf that was littered with books and knick-knacks that looked foreign. All of this just fueled your curiosity- what did he do & how long did he do it?

You shrugged as you went back into the kitchen jumping when you saw his large frame in the fridge. He was shirtless, again, but this time his hair was wet and clung to his head. The small gray stripes were clear as day against his dark olive locks.

“Oh, hi. I didn’t think you’d be done yet.” You say awkwardly scratching the back of your neck.

“Yes, I finished early and decided to shower & grab a snack.” He says waving the bowl of strawberries.

“I was about to prepare one for you.” You said.

“Oh, thank you. You don't really have to do anything today, just get accustomed to things.” He says popping the small red fruit into his mouth.

“Would you like me to stretch you out?” You ask, remembering the list.

His eyes shoot up to yours as soon as the question escapes your lips and you realize how wrong it sounded and before you had a chance to correct yourself he spoke. “You stretch me out, I mean i’ll try anything once but i’d prefer the opposite..”

His words startled you to say the least, and almost instinctively the words flowed from your lips, “I’d like to see you try.”

His eyes widened at your remark and at that you began to spew apologies. “Shit, fuck, DAMMIT. God, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, the stretching part I mean. Well I meant that, but not what I said afterwards. Ok, let me start over. What I meant to say is do you need help stretching considering you just got done working out. There, that's what I meant.”

Your eyes are frantic as they lock with his. God, it's the first day and I'm already gonna lose my damn job. Just great. His lips are pressed in a straight line for a moment before he finally lets the edge of them glide up into a small smirk.

“I’ve already stretched, but I suppose I could go a little deeper, maybe a little harder this time.” He says emphasizing the two words as he pops another strawberry between his lips smirk still evident.

“The stretches of course.?” You ask for clarification.

He hums and pops another strawberry between his lips setting the bowl down onto the counter stalking towards you, his large figure quickly engulfing your much smaller one almost instantly. “That’s not quite what I had in mind.”

You can feel his warm breath on your lips as he leans down, “But if that is what you insist.”

A loud bark bellowed throughout the kitchen causing you to jump. He smiled and wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “No need to fret, he was probably just getting anxious to meet you.”

“He?”

“Yes, my son, or at least one of them. Come on so I can introduce you.” He says guiding you down the hallway, to his room you assumed. You were correct, you realized as he pushed the door open revealing a large dog.

“Don’t worry sweetheart he doesn’t bite. Daddy made him promise to be on his best behavior.” He whispers lowly into your ear.

Fuck, this may be harder than I thought.

hiiiiii, this is the second chapter & you can just check the tag eyesthatwontwonder to read the first. anywaysssss i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are always appreciated <33

#haikyu x reader #ushijima x reader #haikyuu!!#ushiwaka #wakatoshi ushijima #shiratorizawa #smut #eyesthatwontwonder #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu smut #haikyū!!

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stiltonbasket · 3 years

Note

Stilton, I was the anon who said that Wangxian getting together before Nightless City would make canon events extra heartbreaking and now I know just how 💔💔💔💔 the Qiongqi Dao ambush became 😭. For a less angsty prompt, something from Wangxian's happy year at the Burial Mounds with A-Yuan

(brief note: this verse is entirely prompt-based, so please send in more prompts/reblog for more updates!)

Cloud Recesses, Gusu Lan to Yiling City

(care of Master Xie Yanling, addressed to Lan Wangji)

Didi,

To address the problem you mentioned in your last letter, I think Wei-gongzi might have better luck with a Lan-made spirit-trapping pouch to cleanse your crops of resentment. Such mild resentful energy may not respond to Cleansing, and he mentioned that larger spirits keep answering whenever he uses Chenqing, so I think your only solution may be to pick out the resentment piece by piece. However, I know nothing about resentful cultivation, so you need not feel obliged to try it if Wei-gongzi does not agree, but I have enclosed a package of spirit-trapping pouches just in case. If you have no use for them, they can always be sold, or you can save them for night-hunts in the future.

Please inform Young Master Wei that a delivery of twelve white-jade figurines will be coming with the next trader, and he will recommend a jeweler in the next town whom you can sell them to. I regret to say that we still do not have enough silver to spare, but I have nearly half of my future bridewealth left, and there is no better use for it than to aid my brother and my future brother-in-law. Write to me at once if you need anything, and give my best to Xiao-Yuan!

All my love,

Xichen.

Lan Wangji finishes his brother’s letter with a soft smile on his face, taking out the silk spirit-trapping pouches to show to A-Yuan before putting them back into their box. He has not been back to the Cloud Recesses in over six months, though he warned no one of his departure before he left; he came to see Wei Ying and bring him news of his sister’s engagement, and then he ended up staying the night before Wei Ying asked him to live at his side, and be with him always.

It was never a choice, in the end. Lan Wangji would have chosen Wei Ying over his own fated zhiyin, even before his soulmate died on that horrible day in Heijian, so choosing Wei Ying over his sect and his family takes only a split second.

Together, the two of them have transformed the Burial Mounds into a home. Lan Wangji is no stranger to hard labor, and Wei Ying’s stubborn resolve could outstrip Shufu’s even at its weakest, so they went to work together and wrangled the resentment-ridden forest into a line of neat potato fields, chopping down the trees for firewood and long sections of log for houses. Not long after that, the Wens were all able to go to their own warm homes every night, and dine on large bowlfuls of rice and potatoes and turnips every day.

And what the Burial Mounds could not provide, they have ample money to pay for--because Lan Wangji sold his silver hairpiece in the village, and turned out all his emergency funds so that A-Yuan could keep his little stomach full of all the rich beef and vegetable stew a baby of two could want. During his last monthly check-up, Wen Qing was so pleased with his progress that she actually praised Wei Ying for it, and Wei Ying himself is growing strong and golden-skinned in the fields, so that he can wrestle with Lan Wangji in the evenings for A-Yuan’s entertainment and push the market wagon alone instead of relying on Wen Ning.

I am happier here than I ever was in the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji thinks, blushing like one of Sishu’s ripe tomatoes as Wei Ying breezes by with a shovel and kisses the top of his head. You have given me the world, my heart, and you said you had nothing to give!

“Oh?” Wei Ying teases, making Lan Wangji blush even harder at the realization that he said that last aloud. “When did I say I had nothing to give, hmm? Who was it that combed your hair and cooked spicy porridge for you last night?”

“It was you, my heart,” Lan Wangji acknowledges, folding his brother’s letter back into its envelope. “And if I were not a cultivator, I would have spent the morning having runs in the latrine.”

Wei Wuxian throws his head back and laughs. “But Lan Zhan, A-Yuan ate it too! And he was fine, wasn’t he?”

“I ate his share for him.”

Wei Ying pouts at this, and continues to pout until Lan Wangji kisses him a few times to make him smile. “What did Zewu-jun say?” he wonders, trying to catch his breath when Lan Wangji pulls away for a moment. “Is he well? What about Lan-xiansheng?”

“They must both be doing well, or Xiongzhang would have told me,” Lan Wangji assures him. “But he suggested the use of spirit-pouches to make the lotus seeds safe to eat. Shall we try it tomorrow?”

“Aiyah, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it!” Wei Ying cries, striking his fist with his palm. “We can’t get the traces of resentment in the crops to listen without holding everything else back, so we’ll have to clear the plots one at a time.”

Suddenly, he frowns and glances at Lan Wangji’s belt. “I don’t know if one pouch will be enough, though,” he mutters. “How old is yours, xingan? They have a ten-year lifetime, don’t they?”

“Three years, I think. But Brother sent a box of new ones, so we should have plenty to experiment with.”

“A-Yuan wants!” their son complains, plucking at Lan Wangji’s long skirts before reaching up for Wei Ying in a silent plea to be carried. “Give pouch, please?”

“You can have a pouch when you’re older,” Wei Ying tells him. “For now, A-Yuan should listen to Xian-gege and go take a nap. It’s too hot for little radishes to be out without a hat.”

Wen Yuan sulks all the way to the Demon-slaughtering cave, and then through the lullaby that Wei Ying hums to him, but he falls asleep without a fuss just as Lan Wangji gets up and puts away his qin.

“Lan Zhan?” his beloved asks, drawing a light blanket over A-Yuan’s shoulders. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“You wrote A-Yuan’s lullaby, didn’t you?” Wei Ying is watching him through half-lidded eyes, whirling his dizi between his fingers, and Lan Wangji freezes in shame at the implication. “It’s a love song.”

It takes all the strength in his body to nod and keep fastening Wangji back into its case as if nothing were the matter. “En.”

“It’s a love song for me.”

His voice is rougher now, he thinks.

“Yes.”

“You sang it to me in the Xuanwu’s cave,” Wei Ying murmurs. “It was mine back then, too. But Lan Zhan, your soulmate--before the war, she must have still been--”

“My zhiyin was alive then,” Lan Wangji says heavily. “And I mourn them still. But the song was named Wangxian from the moment of its birth, and I wrote it not long after you left the Cloud Recesses. My betrayal will forever be the greatest shame of my life, but I chose you even then, and I do not regret it.”

Wei Ying begins to tremble. “What would you have done if you had the chance to meet her?”

“Loved you anyway,” he whispers. “What could I have done, if not that?”

It was you from the beginning, he wants to say. Wei Ying, it’s always been you.

It was Wei Ying when he tried to force his way past Lan Wangji at the gates of the Cloud Recesses, and Wei Ying when he put a volume of longyang into a book of Lan An’s poetry, and Wei Ying even when Lan Wangji’s soulbond was singing with his zhiyin’s happiness. For no matter how wrong it might have been, and how uncouth, and how much of a betrayal, Lan Wangji has never wanted another; and if he ever met his soulmate, he would never have been able to love her as he loves his chosen beloved.

Suddenly, he realizes that Wei Ying is crying, and then he buries his face in Lan Wangji’s neck and sobs.

“I thought it was only me,” he gasps. “All this time, I’ve been in mourning--but wearing this sash feels like a lie when I’m with you, and I didn’t dare take it off, but--”

“Then take it off,” Lan Wangji urges, with his own eyes full of tears. “None here will judge you, Wei Ying, least of all me!”

And then Wei Ying kisses him for what feels like hours, until the sun is low in the sky and Wen Ning comes calling after them for dinner--and then Lan Wangji takes Wei Ying in his arms and kisses him in return, for they are wholly each other’s now, and Lan Wangji will never leave him again until the end of their days.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #soulmate au #mdzs fic #my fic

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viking-raider · 3 years

Text

Seals of the Lost - Prelude

Summary: An Order of Riders in the East and West, united in keeping the World harmonious, is fractured by greed and corruption. The survivors go into hiding to protect the world from the evil that wants to destroy it and rule all. But, nothing remains lost.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 7,648

Rating: PG - Language, Violence and Death, World-Building, Mythology, Lore, Magic, Historical and Modern Fiction

Inspiration: A mash-up of several movies and books I've seen and read.

Author's Note: Thanks to @wondersofdreaming for her support and encouragement and @firefly-graphics for the divider.

Tag List Blog: @viking-raider-taglist

Once, in bygone millennia, two groups and majestic creatures lived in true harmony with one another, and did for many centuries.

They had always been harmonious, the East and the West, even separated by the vast ocean between them, like they were. Both cultures took great pride in caring for the majestic creatures that inhabited the world with them. Even though in the beginning, when the creatures first appeared, it was not that way.

At first, the sightings were brushed off as nothing more than crack stories of drunks and attention seekers. But, more and more of them came in, then the first attacks started happening. Whole villages burned to the ground, all across the East and West, no side was shown special exception or spared; countless people displaced and killed.

Before, one man, Edward Williams, the East's best tracker, managed to follow one of the creatures back to its lair. But, when Edward sneaked inside, he found an entire world inside the earth, filled with every type, size and shape of the creatures, more than any of his people, East or West, could ever have imagined.

The creatures easily outnumbered all of the humans outside of their world-like cave, and it scared the life out of Edward.

What he hadn't expected was one of the creatures appearing behind him as he spied them, from what he had believed to be a hidden vantage point. Edward was sure his life was forfeit as it stood over him, caging him in with it mountainous body, thick and frothy drool dripping from its snarling, scaly lips and dagger-sharp row of teeth, puffing foul and hot breath from its nostrils into his face, like the great heat of a blacksmith's forge or a venting volcano. Edward trembled, squeezing his eyes shut and mumbling a prayer to himself, giving himself his own last rites, and lifting hand to his face to cross himself, when he felt a very gentle touch against the side of his palm, and dared to crack open one of his eyes.

“Well.” He dared to croak out, his throat dry, as the creature eased back from him. “That was an interesting turn of events.” He mumbled, blinking at the creature, thunderstruck by the fact the creature didn't either eat him or roast him, like something on a spit over a fire.

He flexed his fingers and slowly reached out and and touched two fingers to the creature's face, felt what he could only describe as a purr and relaxed, throwing out all the knowledge and preconceived notions he had about them.

Yes, they had attacked, blackened villages and killed, but he felt there had to be a reason for why this was, and endeavored in finding out why. So, Edward Williams vanished inside the creature's underworld, protected by his new friend and in the years that followed he became one with the creatures that lived and thrived inside of it, until he emerged and returned to the world of his own kind, with his friend, who he had named, Mavy.

Then, with time and many trials, the people of the East and West became harmonious with the creatures, protecting and caring for them, each group, each culture having their own way of doing so. They revered them and the creatures returned that sentiment in the same gratitude and measure. Many of the humans bonded to the creatures, becoming linked together, like one mind inside two very different bodies, even allowing the humans to have gifts, becoming what was known as Riders.

But, like all things, especially things of good and harmony, it did not last.

“The bond between us and them is a bond that should not be corrupted!”

“Aye!

“Who do you think you are!? This is not what we stand for, Christos!”

“This isn't what you stand for!” Christos roared back, slamming his fist on the stone table before him. “And I am sick of your do-gooier ways. The rulers gain riches from Riders protecting their borders, lands and people, and from what?” He hissed, looking around the table. “There hasn't been a war, a skirmish, not even a riot, in nearly four hundred years!”

“That's because of us, Christos!” One of the others at the table with him sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, exhausted and exasperated with Christsos's pettiness. “We don't do it for the money or the glory. But the greater good and prosperity of the world around us.”

“Both worlds.” Another agreed, nodding his head. “For humans and them.”

“Not any longer.” Christos growled under his breath, glowering at the table. “I'm sick of it. I demand a Rider's right, so I can get what's right; payment for protecting these greedy men's lands.”

The men around the table looked at each other, surprised at his demand to have the right to their lifestyle, their occupation and what had been passed down to them through birth and proof of passage. The leader of the group, who had remained silent during the arguments, stood from his chair, letting out a heavy sigh and shook his head at Christos as he leaned his hands against the table.

“No, Christos.” He told him, plainly. “You have no birth right to be a Rider, and you have not proven yourself worthy to become one either. Your greed and anger is plain to see, and even if it was not now, I fear it would be not too far in the future, corrupting your bond as a Rider, and as the head of this Order, I can not allow that.” He spoke honestly, meeting Christos's furious brown eyes.

Christos jerked out a stiff finger, pointing to the head leader. “You will regret this, all of you will regret this, from this moment to the very ends of time and your bloodlines!” He threatened, spitting on the table, before spinning on his heels and storming out of the hall, with a determination that would fuel the flames and tides of the war that would fracture and splinter the East and West into the world as people know it, in current times.

The Order didn't take Christos's word as a threat, in the beginning that is.

He vanished off the map, not a whisper on the winds or from the other Order Houses about his movements throughout the world. The leaders and rulers believed he had let out his hot air and ran off to pout and lick his wounded ego over his rejection. That was until people started disappearing all across the lands, of all statures and social standings, even the family members of the Riders, but that wasn't the worst of it, the evidence left behind the disappearances was damning, and damning for the Order and Riders.

“Sir, they're gathering outside!”

“Yes, Marcus, I can hear them.” The Order leader sighed, pacing the room, hearing the echo of the jeering voices in the stone room around him, causing the situation to weigh even more heavily on him.

“How could they think that we and our creatures are behind these disappearances?” Marcus asked, looking to his leader for comfort. “We've spent centuries in harmony, protecting them, keeping the peace and prosperity. We find what causes people to go missing, not cause them!” He roared, his temper overcoming him, and the room around him shaking.

“Calm yourself, Marcus, getting angry will solve none of this.” His leader sighed, resting his hands on his shoulders.

“But, it isn't fair, Alaric.” Marcus hissed, still angry.

“We will right this, Marcus.” Alaric assured him with a pat on the shoulder.

The doors to the Order house flew open and one of the other Riders came rushing in, out of breath and his clothing torn, from his struggle through the mob crowded outside, and skid to a halt before Marcus and Alaric, taking a moment to catch his breath again.

“What is it, Asher?” Alaric asked, with wide eyed concern.

“Whitewich has been attacked.” He wheezed, stumbling over to the table in the middle of the room to grab a tankard sitting on it and gulp down the remaining liquid inside, quenching his dry tongue.

“By one of our own.”

“What!” Alaric roared, flabbergasted at the news.

“Ronan, from one of the West Order houses, flew into Whitewich on his creature and attacked the village, torching the whole place. Nearly killing all the inhabitants within its walls, before denouncing the Order and the Riders, then flew off again.” Asher told Alaric, leaning against the table and mopping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

“What does Bowen say of this?” Alaric asked, lifting his brow at Asher. “He's the Western Leader for our Order there.”

“He and his Riders are trying to track Ronan down, to bring him to justice.” Asher replied, sighing heavily.

A door to the south of them swung open, admitting a bent back, severely bow-legged, elderly man, with long, thinning white hair, twisted into two braids, each resting on either shoulder. Alaric turned towards the old man and lifted a brow at him, giving him a patient moment to collect his energy and find the words in his senile mind, before letting out soft, but good-natured, sigh.

“What is it, Gilbert?” He asked in a gentle tone.

“Mess..enger—birds,..your..grace.” Gilbert replied in a shaky voice. “Many..of..them.”

Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose, not at all having a good feeling about the messenger birds appearing in their coop. “All right.” He groaned, and followed Gilbert very slowly out of the Order's central room and into the open air of a courtyard, where the angry voices of the crowd was even louder, and to a tall circular tower, dominated by the fluttering and flapping of bird's wings and their calls. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Alaric, Gilbert, Asher and Marcus entered the tower, where a group of four men were gently holding ravens and pigeons, removing teeny scrolls from leather tubes tied to one of their feet, before letting them go, to fly up into one of the empty cubby holes to rest from their long flights.

“What are the messages?” Alaric asked the workers.

“Mostly the same, sir.” One of the men answered, carefully unrolling the message he removed from the raven balanced on his forearm. “Several Riders across multiple Houses, in the West mostly, but three here in the East have joined them, have turned their backs on the Order, attacking villages, towns and cities all across the world.” He read from the scroll, also reciting several of the others he and others had read before Alaric arrived.

“They're flying under the banner of a Serpent and uttering the same one name.” He said, looking up at Alaric. “Christos Forebine.”

“So,” Alaric sighed, dropping into a nearby chair. “He's kept his promise.” He whispered, dropping his face into his hands.

“Alaric, we must do something!” Marcus barked at him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “You are the Leader of our Order, you can't not admit defeat and let this monster take over! Christos will not stop until he has destroyed us all and taken every last one of our creatures, then has taken control of the world!”

“He's right.” Asher agreed with Marcus, nodding his head. “Christos could corrupt more of them and the Riders to tip the world's balance into his favor, making himself supreme ruler of us all!”

“We need to stop him, before this gets fully out of our control, Alaric.” Marcus said softly, frowning down at his long time Leader and friend.

“You're right, we need to gather our Riders and get things in the sky and ground under our control again.” Alaric nodded, biting his lip. “Gilbert, Tomas.” He looked to the workers for the messenger birds. “I want you to send out birds to as many Riders as possible, the ones here in the East and any remaining from the West. I want them here as quickly as they can get here.”

Tomas nodded and got quickly to work, while Gilbert stood in place for a moment, before shuffling away somewhere.

“Asher and Marcus, come with me.”

The resistance of Riders gathered in the East Order House, only one of the Order Houses from the West was left not corrupted from Christos and by the time all of the messenger birds were sent out to the Houses, two of the Eastern Order Houses fell under him.

Alaric knew Christos would never again sit down and talk with the remaining Order Houses about peace and coming to an agreement to stop the conflict and unrest he was creating between the East and West. There was only one thing Christos knew, especially now that he had a league of experienced and seasoned Riders on his side, and becoming a Rider-in-training himself, and that was war and skirmishes. The two groups that had once rallied together, now fought on that same land wrecking havoc and leaving behind bloodshed and death, fighting family and friends, leaders and teachers to maintain a way of life or to create a new one where they could be the new masters.

“Asher is dead, as is his creature.” Marcus informed Alaric, wiping blood from the corner of his brow. “Two of Christos's Rider's dragged them out of the sky.” He frowned, the sight of Asher's death still fresh in his mind.

“Neither stood a chance at survival.”

Alaric, leaning against a table as he surveyed a map of the current battlefield, bowed his head, devastated by the news of Asher's death, his worn and cut up face pinched with deep emotion. “It's a heavy blow.” He mumbled, not lifting his heavy head.

“Alaric Saintwatcher.” A voice called across the makeshift war room.

Alaric looked up and saw Darius Simperwill approach him, limping rather badly, a bloody rag bound tightly around his thigh, with several of the other Riders, in no better shape than he was behind him.

“What is it, Darius?” He asked, rubbing his face and standing, groaning at the stiffness in his back and limbs.

“We can no longer sustain the fight against Christos and his followers.” Darius said, stopping at the table. “More of our Riders either join his forces or die. We need a better plan.”

“And you have one?” Alaric replied, lifting an exhausted brow at him.

“There has to be somewhere we can take our creatures and people, where Christos and his filthy traitors can't get their hands on them.” One of the Riders with Darius grumbled behind him.

“Don't you think, if there was such a place, genius, we would have gone there already?” Marcus retorted, scowling at him.

“It might not exist now, genius.” He belittled Marcus back, huffing at him.

“Speak plainly!” Alaric roared, tired of the nitpicking and petty squabbles of late.

“We all know that our bonds with our creatures can give us power, aye?” Darius said, looking around the room.

“Aye.” Alaric sighed, nodding his head and dropping into his chair.

“Well, Edward Williams believed that Riders and their creatures could combine their powers together and open a door, creating a completely different world, only they could open and close.”

Marcus's head reared back, his laughter filling the room with a thunderous boom. “Open a door to create a totally different world, where we can all have a merry little jaunt into, while Christos stays here, in this world, and rules?” He continued to laugh, shaking his head and held his stomach.

“That's a marvelous idea, Darius.”

“Marcus, hush!” Alaric snapped and rolled his eyes at him, then looked to Darius. “How do you expect me to take those I now have under my care into this world we could possibly create for safety and leave those Christos has under his corruption here?”

“They are already lost!” Darius hissed at him, slapping his hands on the table.

“And the innocent people that wouldn't be able to cross this door with us?” Alaric demanded, angrily. “I've read of this theory in the old texts before, only a Rider and the creatures can cross the doorway. Regular humans would be trapped on this side of it.” He said, jabbing his finger into the table top.

“Leaving them to Christos's fury, when we vanish into it. I won't do that. I won't leave them to that fate, it's against everything we stand for.”

Darius huffed and pushed away from the table, frustrated and at his wit's end.

“What about an ambush?” Marcus asked, biting his lip.

“What kind of ambush?” Alaric asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Set Christos and his traitors up in an ambush of some type that allows us to kill them and their creatures. Then, once they are gone, we can open the door and take the remaining Riders and creatures through, protecting them, so no others are able to do such a thing like what he has again.”

Darius turned back towards Alaric, holding his gaze for a long moment, before they nodded at each other.

“Gather all those we have left.” Alaric said, his eyes never leaving Darius.

Within the hour, the remaining twelve were gathered in the war room and were told the plan on how they intended to put an end to the war.

“How do we open this door?”

“It takes five of us to create and open the door to the world we make for ourselves, but three of the five, must stay behind.” Alaric explained to the group.

“Why?”

“Three Seals will be forged within the door, when it is created. To lock the door behind us, the three Seals must be removed from the door.” Darius picked up explaining. “We can't allow just anyone to watch over the Seals once the doors are closed. It has to be three people out of this trusted group, or all will be for not.”

“I'll be one of the three.” Marcus spoke up, standing up from his seat. “It would be my honor to guard the door that gives my people safety.”

“As will I.” Another Rider vowed, standing with Marcus.

A soft murmur went through the room.

“Aye, I'll be your third.” said a man in the back, raising his hand above his head.

“Then, those two, Marcus, Alaric and I will open the door.” Darius said, nodding his head as the plan came together. “Now,-”

“I won't be going.” Alaric interrupted him.

“What?” Marcus and Darius snapped in unison.

“We need someone to set the ambush.”

“Absolutely not!” Marcus hissed, stomping over to Alaric's side. “You can't! Take my place, protect the Seal. I'll set up the ambush with Christos, it was my idea after all.”

“No, Marcus.” Alaric shook his head, sighing softly at him. “Christos won't go anywhere without just cause. He's always been suspicious and paranoid, so for him to be led into a place for any reason, has to be for a good reason.”

“Am I not a good enough reason?”

Alaric smirked at Marcus and lifted an amused brow, his face getting the point across that he certainly was not good enough to lure Christos anywhere, making Marcus's shoulders slump.

“You couldn't lure him out of the loo.” Darius teased him.

“Oh, shut it.” Marcus hissed at him, angrily. “I can't let you do this.”

“Marcus, I am the Leader of the Order, it is my job to protect it and all those inside of it.” He told him, sincerely. “I am also the only one Christos will deem valuable enough to meet.”

“He's right.” Darius agreed, sadly nodding his head. “What do you have in mind, Alaric?” He asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Just leave that to me.” Alaric replied, his mind already working on it.

“All right, then we need one other for the door.” Darius sighed, looking around the room.

“I'll help.” A soft voice in the back answered.

Heads turned and looked at the timid face of Tomas.

“I know the history behind it.” Tomas said, gulping and looking around the room.

“Thank you, Tomas.” Alaric said, smiling at him.

Tomas smiled shyly at him, nodding his head and shuffling his feet.

“There has to be someone else.” Marcus whispered into Alaric's ear.

“I chose Tomas, he'll do well.” Alaric replied, dismissing Marcus's notion.

“Where do we make this door?”

“We need a safe place. We'll scour for it, while preparations are made for the refugees to go through the door, once it is opened. Make sure to gather as many supplies as possible, for all those that cross the threshold. There's no telling what will be found there, once on the other side.” Alaric said, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room.

“I might have a place, as well.” Tomas spoke up, lifting a pointer finger.

“Where?” Darius demanded, narrowing his eyes at the younger man.

“The original world cave is nearby.” Tomas started to explain to them, moving over to the table, where several maps were laid out. “Here, this was the original world cave, where Edward Williams discovered our creatures.”

“It's unmarked and very few actually know where it is.”

“How do you know where it is?” Marcus asked, looking at the map where Tomas's finger was tapping.

“I've spent my life studying the ancient texts.” Tomas answered, looking up at him. “He described the specific world cave countless times, and I've explored several of them myself, and this is the one that fits the description of it.”

“You're sure?” Alaric asked, leaning forward to look at the map.

“On my creature.” Tomas nodded, sure of himself.

“Then, what?” Marcus asked, lifting a brow at Tomas.

“We go to the world cave, open the door and those going can enter through the doorway. Once that is done, the Seal Keepers remove the Seals and the door will lock behind them.” Tomas explained to the room. “I do propose, once the door is closed and the Seals removed, that the three of us Keepers collapse the entrance of the cave, preventing anyone from finding it again. So, anyone that would wish to take Christos's cause up after his demise can not find it and do so.”

“That is a solid idea, Tomas.” Alaric replied, stroking his chin and nodding his head. “I want the five of you to go there and start the preparations to open the door, the rest of you will start gathering supplies to go through it.” He said, standing up.

“And you, Alaric?” Darius asked, standing up with him.

“As I said, leave that to me.” Alaric replied, before leaving the room.

The five who agreed to open the door arrived at the world cave discovered by Edward Williams all those centuries ago, finding a small path that laid to a shelf and a reasonably flat enough rock face.

“This'll do.” Tomas said, pressing his hand against it. “It's perfect for what we need.” He nodded, then turned to the others. “Do you all know the words?” He asked them, hopefully.

“I know them.” Darius spoke up.

“Darius told me about them after the meeting.” Marcus added.

The two others just glanced at each other and back at Tomas.

“Right, so.” Tomas sighed, pressing his fingers into his eyes and paced the narrow shelf. “The words go like this; 'Through our shared bond, with we and them. We call upon it, in this time of need, to open this door, so that we may soar into a new world and be free, once more'.” He recited the words.

“Understood?”

“Aye.” the four other men nodded their heads.

“Place a hand on the stone.” Tomas motioned for them too.

The four approached the wall, reaching out a hand to touch the cool wall alongside Tomas.

“Now, tap into your bond with your creature.” He instructed them. “Let the bond flow wide open and free, like the flowing of a river.”

They all took a deep breath, opening themselves and feeling the tingle and hum of their bonds strengthen to their fullest potential, making the air around them shimmer with it.

“All together now, say the words.” Tomas said. “And push it into the rock.”

“Through our shared bond, with we and them. We call upon it, in this time of need, to open this door, so that we may soar into a new world and be free, once more.” They all said in unison, squeezing their eyes shut.

They repeated the incantation over and over, the words slowly getting muddled as they did, but their meaning and purpose was not lost with them. With each completed pass of the incantation, thin glowing blue lines cracked through the face of the wall, tracing and weaving the outline of a mighty door, making the cavern around them rumble and quake, then slowly scrape open.

“It actually worked.” One of the men huffed, stepping away from the door, mouth hanging open.

“What did you actually expect, you daft monkey?” Marcus snapped at him.

“Calm down, Marcus.” Darius sighed. “Ian doesn't mean anything by it.”

“Yeah, I don't.” Ian replied, making a smug face at Marcus.

“Ian, come with me, we'll go and tell Alaric that the door is ready. The rest of you stay here and make sure no one comes that shouldn't, and set up the explosives for us to close the cave entrance, when the time comes.” Darius said, motioning for Ian for him to follow, making for the mouth of the cave and returning to the sanctuary, where the remaining Riders were holed up.

“Alaric, we're ready.” Darius said, entering the Leader's private chamber.

“Good, excellent.” Alaric nodded, standing near the fireplace in his chamber. “I'm leaving soon, Darius.” He said, staring into the flames. “But, before I go, I have one more thing I need to do. To ensure.”

“All right.” Darius nodded, frowning at Alaric's back.

“Will you help me with it?” Alaric asked, turning towards him.

“Aye, tell me what I can do?”

Alaric touched a pendant hanging around his neck, then took it off. “Come here.” He said, motioning Darius closer to him.

Darius regarded him for a moment, before approaching him, and Alaric held the pendent out to him, both of them holding it together.

“I, Alaric Saintwatcher, give you, Darius Simperwill, the pendent of the Order of the East-” Alaric began.

“Alaric, wait.” Darius began to protest. “You can't do this.”

“I can and I will, Darius.” Alaric growled back. “Those remaining will need a Leader.”

“Marcus is the second in command.”

“He's one of the three Seal Keepers, he can't be the Leader of those who go through the door.” Alaric barked at him, agitated that Darius was causing them precious time with foolish protests. “You are the only one it can be. You're the only one I trust enough, with enough experience and respect for those going.” He argued.

“Now, shut up and let me finish.” He huffed, squeezing their hands around the pendent. “I, Alaric Saintwatcher, give you, Darius Simperwill, the pendent of the Order of the East to take responsibility for all those that the Order encompasses, for their safety and well-being.” He recited the oath from heart, remembering from when he had taken it, all those decades before.

“Do you take this oath, Darius Simperwill?” He asked, meeting his eye.

Darius stared at him for a long moment, conflicted about taking the oath, of taking his place, knowing Marcus would lose his mind when he found out. But, it was what Alaric wanted. “Aye, I'll take the oath, Alaric Saintwatcher.”

“Then, I pass this on to you.” Alaric said, letting the pendant go. “Wear it with pride.”

Darius stared at it for a moment, rubbing his thumb over the raised symbol on the pendant, before hanging it around his neck by the worn and frayed leather cord. “I'll do you proud, Alaric.” He said, a lump in his throat.

Alaric clasped him on the shoulder. “I have no doubt otherwise.” He smiled. “One last drink?” He asked, grabbing an emerald green bottle off a nearby table and held it up.

“Aye, one more drink.” Darius nodded, tears burning in his eyes.

“To the Order, to the Riders, to our Creatures and to our ways of life!” Alaric declared, holding up his glass in salute.

Darius nodded, holding up his glass. “To true friends.” He added, holding Alaric's eye with a soft smile.

“To true friends.” Alaric agreed, quietly choked up, before both of them swallowed their drinks in one mouthful.

Alaric watched as the Order's refugees silently funnel out of the sanctuary, carefully vanishing into the dark hills that surrounded it, making their way towards the mouth of the world cave that secreted the door to their refuge, led by Darius, their new Order Leader.

Sighing, he turned to his creature and mounted, flying off to do his last bidding. He took a deep breath of the cool night air streaming past his head, his eyes falling shut and letting the free and weightless feeling take over him, an ocean of inky purple clouds and sparkling stars and constellations all around him.

“Our last ride, Tila.” He murmured, resting forward and wrapping his arms around his creature's thick, scaly neck.

His mind flitted back to the message he had sent to Christos in his own battlement, giving him a place to meet, under the false pretense of peace between both sides. He arranged for them to meet inside a world cave, claiming it was Edward's world cave, what perfect place to set him up in, making him think it was the cave that started it all, the cave that would give him all the power he wanted.

The mouth of the cave came into view and Alaric could see a few of Christos's Riders standing outside, waiting for him to arrive and join them inside. Letting out a heavy breath, he and his creature landed, ignoring those already on the ground and entered the world cave, those outside following him inside, closing in around him and Tila.

“Where are the rest of your brats?” Christos's voice echoed over to Alaric.

“Back at our sanctuary.” Alaric replied, slipping off of Tila.

“Doing things on your own, as always, Alaric.” Christos mocked him. “Keeping your pups cowering behind your walls.”

“Do you want to talk or throw insults, Christos?” Alaric sighed, rolling his eyes, feeling antsy.

“Peace!” Christos screamed, throwing his arms out wide, and turning in a circle, making every one of his followers laugh. “The great Order Leader, Alaric Saintwatcher wants peace, in exchange for what, exactly?”

“You stopping this crusade, this needless bloodshed of our kind.”

“Ha!” Christos hissed back. “Now, I'm one of your kind.”

Alaric sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose, knowing there was no real way to get through to Christos Forebine, unless it was on his own terms.

“How about I take my Riders and torch your precious sanctuary and Riders?” Christos suggested, pandering to his riled up followers. “Then, there will be true peace!”

“With you as the ruler of us all?” Alaric replied, lifting a brow at him.

“Exactly.” Christos grinned at him, impishly. “But, that starts with getting rid of you.” He growled, narrowing his eyes at Alaric. “Kill him!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.

Alaric's heart started to pound against his ribs, he rested his hand on Tila's neck as Christos's followers started closing in on him. He waited, calmly, before it was almost too late for him to make his move.

“Now, Tila!” He shouted, patting her on the neck.

Stretching her long neck and letting out an ear splitting shriek, Tila opened her mouth and shot a blueish-purple flaming orb into the dome of the world cave, causing the entire cave to quake, huge pieces of the ceiling came crashing down and hitting Riders and Creatures alike, startling them. As they started to recover again, Tila let out another blast to a separate part of the world cave's ceiling, causing

even more of the ceiling to collapse on top of them.

“Alaric, what are you doing!?” Christos shouted over the noise of crashing rock and panicked voices.

“What I must!” Alaric roared back at him.

With one alarming rumble and strong tremor, the rest of the world cave's ceiling gave way, crumbling away on top of them. Many of Christos's followers attempted to escape, to get to some kind of safety before it was too late, but it was too late, the mouth of the cave fell in on itself, closing them in, with no other way out, leaving them to their deaths.

Meanwhile, Alaric's remaining Riders and creatures, now under the watchful leadership of Darius, felt the ground shake as they ascended deep into Edward's real world cave towards the Seal Door. Darius and Marcus glanced at each other as they stood beside each other at the door, knowing what was causing the shake.

“Well, I'll assume Alaric was successful.” Darius sighed, watching the last few remaining Riders funnel in.

“We'll soon find out.” Marcus replied, biting his lip and felt a sharp heaviness in his chest. “Still can't believe he made you the new Leader of the Order.” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest, dejectedly.

Darius sighed again, rubbing his fingertips into his tired eyes. “I told him, it should have been you who took his place. But, he said, since you were chosen to be a Seal Keeper, it had to be me.” He said, dropping his hands to his sides and looking over at his long time friend.

“I know.” Marcus answered, lightly jabbing his shoulder into Darius's and gave him a teasing smile. “Still can't believe it.” He chuckled.

“Do me one solid favor, though?”

“Anything, Marcus?” Darius nodded, his brow pinching with sincerity.

“Will you take care of Icarus for me?” He asked, looking at his creature, with a loving, but sad, smile. “She's a good ol' girl, spits ice farther than any I've ever met.” He reminisced, petting her incandescent blue wing.

“You have my promise.” Darius swore, resting his hand on Darius's back. “I'll take care of her, like I care for Elio.”

“I appreciate it, Darius.” Marcus sighed, clasping him on the arm. “I really do.”

“Everyone's here and ready.” Tomas said, approaching Darius and Marcus.

“Ian and Coda, are you ready?” Marcus asked, looking at his fellow Seal Keepers.

“We are.” Ian nodded and glanced at Coda.

“All right, that just leaves the rest up to you, Darius.” Marcus said, respectfully bowing to him.

“Oh, don't go giving me any of that bullshit, Marcus Cuillen.” Darius huffed at him, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and pulled him into a bear hug. “I'll miss you.”

“Don't go soft now.” Marcus roared, squeezing him back, before they broke apart, and he stepped away from Marcus to stand beside Coda and Ian.

“Riders!” Darius called out, his voice reverberating off the stone walls.

“We are all that is left. We and our creatures, who we are tasked with protecting, but we are also tasked with protecting the way of our life, of our Order.” He shouted, meeting the eye of as many Riders he could. “For that reason, we will enter this door, into a new world, where it is safe for us and them. I do not know, if ever, we will return to this world, or what we will find, when we do.”

“But, for now, this is what we must do, and as your new Leader, I will step through first, to show to you, it is safe!”

Taking a deep breath, Darius turned towards the open stone door. He couldn't see what was on the other side of it, because of a shimmering, dark purple membrane stretched across the opening stood between the Order and their new world. So, squaring his shoulders and fortified by what he was doing was for the greater good of his people and the world at large, Darius strode forward with his head held high and confident. He reached his hand out, touching the membrane with his fingertips and found it to be cool, as the rock face itself, before pushing his hand through it, making it ripple, like water.

Darius looked over his shoulder and smiled at the group behind him, then stepped through, vanishing on the other side. A gasp rippling through the group left behind. A moment later, Darius's creature, Elio, stirred its scales and approached the door, slipping through it without a thought or hesitation.

“It must be safe.” Ian spoke up, after a minute of nothing. “Or he wouldn't have summoned his creature to follow after him.” He pointed out.

“True.” Marcus nodded his head. “Okay, everyone!” He shouted, getting the group's attention as they all stared at the doorway, wide eyed and astonished. “Single file, start going through. No pushing or shoving! Nice and easy, that's it.” He nodded his head, as the group started to trail in, somewhat hesitatingly at first, through the door with what belongings and supplies they could carry, as well as with their creature.

Once all of the Order was inside, the three Seal Keepers said their last good-byes to their own creatures, knowing for their safety, they had to also go through the doorway, and sent them on their way; Ian tearing up a little bit as his creature's tail disappeared through the membrane last.

“Now what, Marcus?” Ian asked, looking at him, as a lonely feeling starting to spread inside of his chest.

“We close the door.” Marcus replied, having a similar feeling. “Help me push it.” He said, moving around and planting his hands on the door.

Nodding their heads, Coda and Ian joined him, then with grunts and groans, they pushed the door closed, slotting it back into the rock face seamlessly, except for the eerie blue glow it still had to it.

“Right.” Marcus sighed, dusting his hands on the thighs of his pants. “I'll take the top Seal.” He said, reaching up for the object slotted into the front of the door, and after a moment of figuring it out, gave it a half turn to the left and popped it out, feeling the hefty weight of it in his single palm.

“I'll take the right one.” Ian replied, grabbing it and with a quarter turn to the right, had it out in his hand as well.

Nodding his head, Coda removed the left Seal with a full turn. The three of them stood together for a long while, staring down at their Seals, each with a different symbol on it. They could feel a faint hum of power slowly fading out of them, as the magic that opened the door vanished into the thin air around them, causing the glow of the now closed and locked doorway to dull and darken, leaving a pale outline of where they had once been, the only evidence of their existence, other than the Seals.

“How about a pint?” Ian suddenly suggested, looking up from his Seal.

Marcus heaved a sigh. “I could use a drink.”

“What about you, Coda?” Ian asked, lifting a brow at him.

Coda stared at his Seal a moment longer, then looked up at the other two men, shook his head and started making his way back out of the world cave. Marcus and Ian shrugged their shoulders at each other, but followed him out of the cave as well. They stopped outside of the cave, tucking the Seals away on their person for safety, before lighting the fuses to the explosives they had laid, then put several yards between them and the cave as the muffled explosions went off and the earth around it folded in on itself. With a respectful bow, Coda took his leave of Marcus and Ian, going off into the night, on his own.

“I think it's best we also part ways, as well.” Marcus said, setting down his pint, as he and Ian sat in an ale house in the nearest town. “We're no longer Riders.” He sighed, staring into the foam of his drink. “Even if we still had our creatures, we couldn't do anything with them, it would be too dangerous.”

“I believe you're right.” Ian burped, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “We would be daft to be in the same town, let alone the same city with our Seals, should anyone come looking for them.”

“No one should even be alive, other than the three of us and those that crossed the door, that know about the Seals either way.” Marcus commented, flicking his hand to motion to the full room of patrons. “If Alaric's plan went off like it should have, all of Christos's followers should be dead.”

“You know, there has to be some low life, wanna-be, Rider that followed that madman out there.” Ian huffed, lifting a brow at Marcus. “You would be an idiot not to be slightly paranoid about it.”

“I am.” Marcus barked, lifting his tankard back to his mouth and took a deep drink. “That's why I suggested we separate too. Just like Coda did.”

Ian bit his lip and pushed his jaw forward, nodding. “All right.” He huffed, rubbing at his face and feeling the weight of his Seal in his pocket. “I've always loved it across the sea, the land is nice.” He mumbled. “I'm sure Coda is going back to his corner in the far East.”

“Why don't you stick around here, we'll all three cover those bases.” He suggested, lifting a brow.

Marcus cleared his throat and thought it over. He wasn't opposed to staying in the part of the world they were in, but he still wanted a change in scenery, just like Ian and Coda did. “I might wander up North a bit. I'm sick of this area, nothing but heartache and bad omens.”

“That's up to you.” Ian replied, shrugging his big shoulders.

“I doubt the three of us will ever see each other again.”

“Good.” Ian chuckled, hoarsely. “I'm sick of your face and have been for years.” He said, cracking a smile.

“The feeling's mutual.” Marcus grinned, lifting his cup and knocked it against Ian's, when he lifted his. “To the Order and, hopefully, a better world.” He toasted, before they both gulped down the rest of their ales, shook hands and took leave of each other, their Seals safe with them as they went.

“Yes, Mum. I just got the box delivered ten minutes ago.” Henry replied, pressing his phone to his ear with his shoulder and pulled a steak knife out of the drawer, to cut the packaging tape off the box his mother had shipped to him from Jersey.

“How are you liking the new place, love?” Marianne asked her son.

“I really like it.” He answered, pulling open the cardboard flaps of the box. “It's quiet out here and there's a ton of yard for Kal to go wild in.” He grinned, twisting his upper body to look out the kitchen window in time to see a Kal sized blur bolt across the backyard and into the side yard. “He's already dug five holes.” He chuckled, turning back towards the box.

“Anyway, what's in this thing, mum?” He asked, peeking inside.

“Just some stuff from your room and things I didn't know what else to do with.” She answered him.

“Ah, I see, it's my turn to house some of the family nick-nacks.” Henry laughed, pulling out a few things that had been in his childhood bedroom, smiling fondly at them.

“Oh, I have another call, Henry. I'm glad you love the new house! I'll call you later”

“Thanks, mum!” He replied and hung up with her, then put his full attention on the things in the box. “What's this?” Henry frowned, pulling out an old, round disc that had a bit of weight to it and a worn marking on one side. “Weird.” He mumbled, turning it over and looking for any marks that could tell him what it was, the nerd in him interested and drawn to it.

“I wonder if there's a place I could get you checked out at.” He said, biting his lip and set it down on the kitchen counter, but he wasn't even sure where he would start to look. “I'll have to do some research later on tonight.” He decided, then finished unpacking the box and putting the things inside of it away in various places around his new house in the English countryside.

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