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darklydeliciousdesires · 3 days

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Nobody's Girl - Chapter Nine.

Another week, another chapter, besties! Thank you all so much for your love for this story. It really means so much to me :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,869

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

The high of it rushed over him, swathed him in its warm tingles, senses soothed from all that had led up the moment there with her. Laying worship upon her body with every press of his lips, hands praising in stroke, she was like opium pouring warm over a persistent ache. Her arousal lapped at her like a gentle influx of water soaking a shoreline, fingers tangling into the soft black of his hair, jolting as sweet affection made way for the razor edge of his lust, teeth nipping at her hip.

His mouth trailed lazy licks to swirl over her skin, lips pressing against the soft, neatly trimmed blonde curls at her apex, until those licks dipped low and pressed firm. Honeyed throbs of pleasure swelled, his tongue rolling slow, hands stroking blazes up and down her thighs, her pretty little moans adding further sound to the noise of his mouth moving keenly over her slick.

Velvet heat rubbed greedily through her folds, bringing focus to her clit, shouldering her thighs to drop parted again when they closed in on him, his elbows pressing down to keep her spread while he held her hips still. She arched, humming a seraphim’s sonnet, the tingle of her arousal glimmering through her core, the silky nectar of such beginning to run dewy onto his tongue, evoking a baritone rumble from somewhere deep in his chest.

He panted against her, cock rapidly swelling, fingers digging crescents onto her hips as his eyes found hers over the rise of her heaving tits, winking, sucking her bud until she cried out over and over. It pulled full bodied trembles from her, shaking like she’d been plunged into glacial waters, his mouth locked tight as he sucked harder.

The crest ploughed hot through her veins, his hands running over her, two fingers pressing into her mouth, depressing her tongue as she sucked them, Luca keeping her jaw in a tight grasp as he moved to kneel before her, cock snagging her opening, a hard push daggering into her deeply. There was no containment, each thrust him carving out room inside of her, filling her wholly, making her whine in bliss around the suck upon his fingers. Emptying her mouth, his hand curled to her throat, pushing her into the bed beneath his grasp, smiling at the grey fire that flickered in her seductive stare.

“Like it when I hold you down, don’t you, bella donna?”

“Ah, ah fuck, yes!” she cried out, hands smoothing down his arms in a torrid glide as he drove her hard into the bed. “I want you deeper in me, please, please!”

Hauling her hips up, he shunted his thighs beneath them, cock arrowing to her very depths. “Better?”

“Oh my god, yes it is!” she wailed, watching him grin before he leaned to kiss her with wild heat, hand once again moving to grasp her throat as they moved against one another with wild friction. Her cries began to louden, drifting through the top floor of the house, reaching the ears of a woman walking up the stairs on her way to the bathroom. Filomena winced, hoping they would be finished soon, but knowing from personal experience they likely wouldn’t be.

She paused at the bathroom door, rethinking her desire to soak in the tub before dinner if the those were the kind of sounds that would continue reaching her ears, sadness and jealousy colliding as she heard the beautiful young woman enjoying all that she still coveted. She missed him, no matter how terrible a husband he’d been to her with his infidelity, and there he was, having a great time, balls deep in his new girlfriend.

The bath could wait.

While she walked away with hurt prickling her chest, Emily was experiencing the surge of pin pricks skittering up her spine, her lover’s hand fisted hard in her hair as he held her head back, pounding her esuriently from behind. Her walls radiated heat, Luca slowing, his lust blown eyes drawn to the sight of her twitching around him, hand landing in a hard spank on her ass.

The noise it pulled from her made him repeat it again in an instant, his thoughts thickened, heart hammering, her moans lower, primal, his insides throbbing in response. The grasp woven tight in her hair slackened, his hand sliding to cup beneath her jaw, pulling her up until her back was against his chest, knees pivoting them slightly to the left.

“There,” he rasped, mouth planting hot, open-mouthed kisses across the column of her throat, watching her eyes find their reflection in the huge mirror located in the corner. “Now you can see what I do, how goddamned beautiful you look while you’re gettin’ fucked, amore.”

Those words sizzled over her marrow, her hand reaching to grasp the back of his head, turning to meet his mouth in a fever-hot kiss, his groan like summer thunder rumbling a darkened sky. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, everything winding tight, Emily fixated on the mirror glass, the visual of seeing herself being sexually domineered so thoroughly only adding to the scalding pleasure.

The sound of his cock daggering into her soaking plush sounded lewdly, their moans culminative, sweet nirvana pulling them both into its abyss. Afterwards, they lay happily entwined, his leg draped over her hips as he stroked the path of her cleavage with a fingertip, her hand idly trailing over the dark hair upon his thigh.

“I wish we could stay up here, avoid the rumbling storm downstairs,” he spoke quietly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

She turned, a small dent of confusion dimpling her forehead. “What I saw from the window didn’t look like bad weather?”

“It wasn’t,” he confessed, sighing. “It’ll likely be on the way again, though. She told me that she wanted us to try again, and that I should send you packin’.” He waited for her to react with trepidation, maybe even concern, especially after the events of that day and how shaken she’d been left by them for a time, but it didn’t happen.

“I’m going nowhere.” What they had just shared upon the bed cemented that for her more than any other words he could have spoken.

“I know, cara mia.” Another kiss was placed upon her shoulder, his hand moving to lavish at the side of her neck. “I told her that, too.”

“Do you think she really means it, or is it more a case of her playing some kind of game because I’m here, and she has to witness that?”

He thought for a moment, stuck between the knowledge her usual form and the sincerity he’d seen in her eyes when she’d revealed her desire for reconciliation. “I think that she believes it’s what she wants. How bona fide that is, I don’t know.” He pulled her close, lips meeting hers. “Don’t care, either.”

They basked a little longer before moving to dress, going downstairs to find his children all sitting at the large dining table on the back porch, being entertained by Greta performing simple little magic tricks for them. It was how she’d met Angelo, being a magician’s assistant, hired for a party he was at with his family back when they were both in their late teens.

“You lookin’ forward to tomorrow, boys?” Luca asked, his question directed at Jack and Harry, Angelo and Greta’s nineteen and seventeen-year-old sons.

“Yeah, uncle Luca,” Jack replied, beaming with enthusiasm. “I get to use a real gun for once, it’s gonna be swell!”

Angelo had raised his boys exactly as he was with his; not to turn out to be wiseguys. Being kids of poor Italian immigrants, it had been a natural progression for him and his cousin, with very little in the way of genuine prospects. The money they made meant their kids didn’t have to choose that path, not unless they truly, truly wanted to. They’d been sent to the best schools in New York, Angelo’s boys were in college, too. It was definitely a more favourable climate than what they’d grown up in.

“Please can I come too, pop?” Guiseppe asked, his big, hazel eyes full of hope that a shake of his father’s head dashed in an instant.

“No, boy. You’re too little still for handling a shotgun. Maybe next year, alright?”

He huffed, folding his arms while kicking his feet in annoyance beneath the table. “I guess.”

“Your dad is right, son. Leave it a little while longer.” Filomena spoke, sequestered at the other end of the table. With a martini within her clutches, mouth set to slightly puckered, Luca looked at her in assessment for only a second, noting that she looked more sad than bitter. Throughout the dinner, he did attempt to engage her in conversation a few times, Angelo and Greta, too, but she only really spoke at any length to her children.

In her quietness, she observed, watching the way her husband interacted with his new love. Luca was never overstated when it came to publicly displayed affection, and still wasn’t, but Filomena noticed a difference in him for certain.

While he and Angelo spoke of what trail they would take with Robert, the local guide coming to collect them at 5am the following morning for a day of buck hunting, his eyes might have been on his cousin, but his hand rested to Emily’s wrist, fingers gently circling while she and Greta chatted between themselves. A while later, he had her feet pulled onto his lap, idly stroking her from ankle to toe, looking at her with pride as she enthused over the works of Walt Whitman to Angelo, who remained unconvinced, not being much of a reader.

Emily was everything she wasn’t, and how sorely she resented the lovely young woman for it. It was made even harder by the fact that truly, there was nothing to hate. She was sweet and kind, involving the children in the conversation, Guiseppe and Alessio seeming to take to her very naturally. Her only triumph was that Milania remained indifferent towards her love rival.

Getting up from the table, she lifted Alessio into her arms, a little wobbly on her feet.

“Get off, I’m fine,” she snapped when Greta put a hand out, helping steady her. “I can carry my son to bed without any help. C’mon, Guiseppe. You too.”

“But mom! That ain’t fair. I bet Milania gets to stay up,” he whined, earning an eyebrow raise from his father.

“She’s older, when you’re fourteen you can stay up past nine, too. Go on, go with your mom,” Luca advised, the boy huffing before he rose, saying goodnight to everyone. Finishing his drink, he looked over to his daughter, noticing the look of worry she wore in her eyes, eyes identical to his as she watched her mother enter the house, chewing her lip a little. “What’s with that face, tesoro?”

The girl sighed, looking conflicted as she fiddled with a loose thread on the sleeve of her dress. “Can I speak with you privately, daddy?”

His forehead creased with concern, nodding as he stood up. “Of course. C’mon.” Holding his hand out, he waited for her, Milania grasping it tightly as he led her back into the house, walking through to the deserted kitchen and switching the light on. “Now, tell me what the matter is.”

Sighing, she let her shoulders drop, folding her arms. “It’s mommy. I’m worried about her. Ever since you told her about Emily, she’s been acting funny. Not ha, ha funny, but strange. Like she’s sad. The doctor gave her some pills and she was better for a little while, but she’s drinking a lot, too. Like, I know adults like a drink and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I saw her drinking neat gin the other morning. She lied and said it was a glass of water, but I smelled the glass afterward. Wasn’t water.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a long, deep breath through his nose. “She just needs time to get used to it, honey. She’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

“I think she wants you to come home. Says she misses you all the time,” she confessed, her eyes pleading. “Won’t you ever come back?”

He shook his head. “No, sweetheart. That door closed a long time ago. I wasn’t the best husband to your mom, you’re old enough now to know that. You three kids were the best things to ever happen to us, but us together, we weren’t a good fit.”

Milania snorted softly, rolling her eyes. “And I suppose Emily is?”

Oh, that attitude. She was a teenage him in female form. “Hey, you cut that out. Emily ain’t done nothin’ bad to you, or anybody else. And yeah, she is a good fit. You should try and get to know her a little, you know.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He couldn’t force it, he supposed. “All in your own time, I guess. Listen, you keep an eye on mommy for me, though, right? If she gets worse with the hooch, you let me know first.”

She nodded, moving to hug him. “I will, I promise.”

“Good.” He kissed her hair, stroking her forehead as she pressed herself against him tightly.

“Love you, daddy. I miss you, too. Wish I got to see you more often.”

A little sharp tug pulled in his chest. “Love you too, cuore mio. And Brooklyn ain’t the moon, you know. You wanna see me more? Just call and I’ll send a car. Come by whenever you like, you hear?”

She nodded, smiling up at him, receiving a kiss to the forehead. “I will.”

Milania headed up to bed, Luca going back outside, noticing Emily’s questioning look. “I’ll tell ya later, doll.”

He did when they’d turned in for the night, stroking her arm as her hand lay in idle press against his chest, seeing the understanding in her eyes. Of course, this would strike a chord with her. “If it is a problem, then she certainly hides it better than Bertha ever did,” she began, referencing her mother. “She couldn’t even stand up half the time, just lying there on her chaise, wallowing in self-pity and rum. Maybe it’s just a few nips here and there to ease her sadness?”

“That’s what I was thinkin’, too,” he spoke, “but either way, I told Milania to keep an eye on her. Not that a fuckin’ fourteen-year-old kid should have to, but there ain’t anybody else.”

“Has she always liked the drink?”

He shook his head, remembering how it was usually her having to put him to bed if he was in a state, back when he did used to drink a lot in his wilder, younger days. “Nah. She barely touched it the entire time we were married, except wine with dinner and the like. That’s why I gotta little spark of concern, y’know? Don’t want the broad plastered outta her head while she’s meant to be takin’ care of my kids.”

Kissing his shoulder, she cuddled into him closer. “We have all weekend with her, too. I’ll keep a discreet eye on her, see if I can tell the signs. Back when my mother was still trying to hide it, I learned to read her like a book. I’m sure she’ll be fine, though. One thing I can tell very evidently about Filomena is how much she loves those children. I doubt she’d ever get in the kind of state where she couldn’t take care of them adequately.”

Luca could only hope she was right. He rolled onto his side, wrapping an arm around her, extra thankful for the fact the woman he loved was so simple and uncomplicated. He rose at 4:30am the following morning, washing and dressing, laying a kiss to her head as she slept, he and Angelo eating a quick breakfast and filling up on coffee before they were escorted out by Robert in search of anything with antlers.

Emily woke up at 8am, a small hand shaking her.

“Emily, can you come? Mommy is still asleep, and she locked the door.”

Coming around more, she rubbed her eyes and yawned, nodding while climbing out from beneath the covers, picking up Alessio. “Sure, I can. Come on, little guy.”

Walking right to the other end of the house, Guiseppe and Milania were also still in their nightclothes, the latter viewing her with the same mild contempt as she had since they’d met the day before, Emily placing the youngest of them down and reaching to knock the door.

“Filomena, you awake yet?” Nothing. Holding her ear against the smooth, white painted wood, she listened carefully, relieved to hear the sound of her snoring. Turning back to the children, she fixed a big smile on her face. “I think your mommy is tired and enjoying a lie in. Tell you what, if you guys can go and get yourselves ready, I’ll go and sort you out some eggs. How’s that?”

“We have a chef for that,” Milania pouted, folding her arms while lifting her chin defiantly.

Emily took it completely in her stride. “Alright, then I can tell the chef what you’d like, and meet you downstairs?”

“We can tell him ourselves, god! We’re not imbeciles!” Off she huffed down the hall, Emily sighing. Guiseppe looked on at her with an apologetic smile, reaching for his brother.

“I’ll help the tyke here, make sure he brushes his teeth and all that. And can I have my eggs scrambled? Alessio likes ‘em soft boiled.”

At least two out of three children weren’t so hostile. “Of course, you can. See you downstairs.”

Once washed, her curls pinned up save a few free strands framing her face, eyes darkened with kohl and an outfit of her wide legged slacks, a white blouse and deep green cardigan were chosen, she went downstairs, finding Greta positioned in the dining room with a cigarette and a coffee, reading the newspaper.

“Love those pants, dolly,” she began, giving her an appreciative sweep with her eyes. “Didn’t know Chanel did ‘em in kid's sizes.”

Oh, her beloved Greta. She was such a tease. Reversing back from where she’d entered the kitchen, Emily raised a single, well-groomed eyebrow. “Less of the attitude towards my little legs, huh? But yeah, Luca’s cousin took them up for me since they were touching the floor.”

“Vincenzo is a master with a needle and thread, I’ll say,” she spoke of the man who made the custom-tailored suits for her husband as well as Luca. “Are we the only ones up?”

“The kids are getting ready,” Emily replied after a few moments, coming back in and handing her a bowl containing the other half of the grapefruit she’d just sliced for herself, the chef otherwise engaged in organising the pantry. “Filomena is still sleeping off the martinis, though. I didn’t say that part in front of the kids, so keep it under your hat.”

Her eyes widened, leaning in across the table. “Well, yeah. I nearly followed her up the stairs last night, just in case she dropped the little one.” Picking up the coffee pot, she poured out a cup, pushing it across the table. “We all like a good drink now and again, but she seemed a little messy.”

“I don’t mean to judge, but it turns out it’s been happening a lot.” Keeping her voice low, Emily revealed all, Greta cocking her head with ever widening eyes as she learned of the latest.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she exclaimed softly, lighting herself another cigarette, offering one across the table that was accepted with thanks. “And to think the woman barely drank for so long, too. Wine with a meal and a cocktail here and there, as far as I remember.”

Her ascertain was confirmed with rapid nodding. “Yes, Luca said exactly the same thing!”

“What did my daddy say?” Milania asked upon entering the room, fixing her icy stare right at Emily.

“Nothing important, sweetie. Are your brothers on their way?”

“They are, and I’m not your sweetie either.”

“Hey!” Greta pointed, Milania jumping a little. She’d thought her sass would go unreprimanded, with neither of her parents around. “Now you remember your manners, you hear? Don’t think you’re too big not to get your ear clipped. Show some respect, young lady.”

“You’re not my mother,” she sneered, turning to Emily, “and neither are you.”

“No, we aren’t, but if you carry on, your father will hear all about you and your smart yap, missy. I’d button it if I were you,” Greta warned, Milania rising from the table with a huff, flouncing towards the back doors and heading outside. “Kids, eh? All full of hormones, especially at her age.”

“Yeah, and resentment because in her mind, me being in her father’s life is causing her mother to behave the way that she is.” It was only Saturday and already, Emily wished for nothing more than to hightail it back to Brooklyn, after what had already come to the surface so far. “She’s too young to get it, that they were broken long before I came along. She likely wouldn’t hear of it being mostly her father’s fault either, since she idolises him so very much.”

Greta sat and marvelled, thinking to herself how Emily might have been quite soft and naive in a lot of respects, but god, she had a very strong root tethering her to reality. She made no excuses for the truth of the matter concerning the man she loved, which was a rarity, especially in a relationship only sixth months into its tenure.

“She’ll come around in time. The more she sees how happy you make her dad, and when her mother pulls herself out of this little blip. It’ll all be okay, dolly. I’m certain. Now, what are we doing today? I thought we could take the car and head into town? There are some beautiful, quaint little stores in Linlithgow we could venture down to?”

Emily smiled, liking that idea. “Yes, that’d be nice. Let’s get breakfast out of the way and wait for Filomena to rise, and we can head out.”

That rising was another half hour from then, the women having successfully drank a pot of coffee between them and also been talked into a round of eggs Benedict each by Hubert, the chef. Walking into the dining room, Filomena acknowledged them with only a nod, heading through to the kitchen.

“Hubert, can I get some bacon and my usual eggs, plus a bloody Mary?” She hung around by the kitchen doors until being furnished with her drink, taking it and glugging back a mouthful before leaving the room without word. Greta leaned as far as she could in her seat to see through the open doors into the lounge, witnessing the concerning sight of her topping off the drink with yet more vodka.

Turning to Emily, she made a drink motion with her hand. “Yeah, I think the kid is right. Her ma has a problem.”

#luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta smut #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta fic #luca changretta x ofc #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #nobody's girl #luca and emily

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vicekillx · 1 month

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so fuck the ditch

but hey round 2 is done

#vice says #tattoos #tattoo sleeve #my arm is on fire and folding my elbow hurts #so needless to say art may be slow this week lol

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pullhisteeth · 1 year

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wasteland, baby | eddie munson x reader

summary your friendship with Eddie got complicated when you went to college. you've both been hiding things from each other, and the heat of a summer spent in Hawkins draws out the truth. [4k]

contains 18+ !!! fwb to lovers, fwb!best friend!Eddie, fem!reader, angst, arguing, hurt to comfort, fluff, suggestive content/mentions of smut, mentions of alcohol and weed, tense conversation, miscommunication, and a truckload of yearning. just two idiots in love!

author's note I'm back, baby! with something inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time. enjoy!

All the fear and the fire of the end of the world happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.

Resting on your cheeks on your folded forearms, you stretch one leg out behind you. The soft sheets under your stomach ride your top up and you feel the sun lick the backs of your legs and up your back, warm and slightly oppressive. It’s a hot summer in Hawkins, hotter than you remember it ever being before you moved.

There’s also the infrequent brush of hair around your ankles. It tickles, shifting whenever he does, and is joined by the tracing of his fingers behind your knees. You’ve nearly kicked him in the head a couple times from how light his touch is. You know he knows you’re ticklish.

The combination of the pads of his fingers, the brush of his hair, and the heat of his breath on your skin is all too much. You squirm where you’re laid, turning off your stomach onto your side to lean your head up on one elbow and look down at the foot of the bed.

“Eds?”

He stirs, previously unbothered by your legs moving out of his reach, turning onto his side too. He looks back at you with eyes half-lidded, browned butter irises under his lashes. He hums.

You rub your socked feet together absentmindedly.

“Aren’t you hot?”

“Smokin’, babe,” he drawls, grin lopsided and silly.

You roll your eyes and say, “Funny.”

Kicking one of your feet out slightly, you use your toes to nudge his shirt up. He’s in a longsleeve and jeans and it makes you feel exposed in your vest and shorts.

“It’s, like, eighty degrees out.”

“It is,” he agrees, looking down at your foot as it kicks his stomach lightly. It’s very clear he’s winding you up, the way he always has. And, as ever, you fall straight into his trap, face first, so recklessly no one could accuse you of ever being oblivious.

“Surely you’re overheating in that.”

His eyes come back to yours.

“Hm,” he muses with a look of faux concentration that is broken only by the twitch of a smirk. “Wanna give me a hand cooling down?”

His fingers are back on your leg, two of them walking steps up the curves of your calf, over your knee and up your thigh where his whole hand spreads and squeezes gently. The smirk has broken through.

“I shoulda known,” you groan, turning back on your stomach and rolling your eyes. His hand remains, smoothing over the back of your leg, creeping closer and closer to the hem of your shorts until his fingers brush the denim and slip underneath.

“Honey,” he croons, “you really walked into that one.”

“Can’t we do somethin’ else?” you muse, speaking muffled words into the clammy skin of your arm where you rest your head.

His fingers stop moving, and after a moment he says, “like what?”

Shuffling around to look at him, twisted all weird, top slid even further up, you say, “I dunno. Go out?”

“You want to go out?” he asks as his face contorts into something like disgust.

“Forget it,” you say, sitting up. You shuffle your knees over the sheets and lift one over him, your hands smoothing over his broad shoulders to turn him onto his back. His own hands sit splayed across your bare thighs as you straddle him.

“No,” he breathes. “No, no, I just… Just wasn’t what I was expectin’, is all. Where’d you wanna go?”

You look down at him as you rest your weight on him fully and look him in the eye. He looks back at you with a softness you only catch every so often.

After a beat you say, “the lake?”

You watch as he holds down a laugh, swallowing it just before it breaches into the space between you, and you feel yourself recoil.

“Hey,” he soothes, voice quick and soft. “Hey, sorry, I just… it’s a bit clichéd, but it’s fine, it’s fine. Let’s go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

A giggle claws its way up your throat, threatens to break free so you let it, and he grins in response underneath you. With his hands on your waist he grips you to lift you up and off himself, squeezing a little too hard to push more giggles out of you, tickling you silly ‘til you can’t breathe. You lie on his bed and watch him gather things together - an old towel, and another one; an old bottle of sunscreen; a backpack.

“C’mon then,” he says, holding his hand out to you. You take it and pull yourself up and off the bed, toeing your sneakers on and following him out the door. He throws the bag by your feet as he gets into the van and as he pulls out of Forest Hills, you wind down the window and rest your arm on the sill to feel the breeze through your hair.

It’s funny, Eddie thinks, how you’ve barely changed in five years. Of course, you have changed, because you’re 22 now, not 18 like you were when you left, and you’ve grown, and your hair’s longer than it was when you met, and he’s sure he’s changed, too. But here, with your head leant out his window, your hair going wild in the wind, you are the same girl he met under the bleachers in freshman year.

Under the dappled canopy of oak trees, Eddie takes a left turn off the road and onto a gravel path. It’s well-trodden, the dry ground smoothed over by teenagers’ cheap cars coming and going all summer, so the drive is easy until you pass the usual spot. He keeps going, driving past the shoreline where a bunch of kids younger than you are lounging, swimming, basking in the heat.

The road turns dirty here, kicking a cloud of dust up behind the van as you go. You wind the window up and sit with your head resting against the seat, turning it so you can look at your driver.

Eddie Munson is a notoriously dark individual. You love him dearly, perhaps more than you care to admit to him, but he really does a good job of living up to his reputation, with his jeans and chains and that hair.

Here, in the brief flashes of sunlight coming through the leaves as the van slows, you see the way his skin’s kissed golden by the sun. The rings on his hand, where it sits on the gearstick by your left knee, shine in the light and look strangely pale against his usually alabaster skin. You realise, for the first time since you came back for summer, that he’s actually grown up a lot in the time you’ve been away. His skin’s rougher but it still looks as soft as it feels under the sunny glow; he’s rougher, too, eyes harder and jaw firmer. You let your eyes dance over him, up his forearm where he’s pulled his sleeves up, across the ink dotted there, and onto his face.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” he asks, voice soft. You hadn’t noticed the familiar smirk, distracted by the way his hair looks in the sun, so you just scoff and roll your eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you spit playfully, forcing down a smile.

“Hey,” he whines, false with pain, hand over heart. You just laugh at him, looking away and out of the window as he pulls to a stop at the side of the dirt track.

It’s quieter here. In fact, there’s no one else around. He’s driven to the northernmost part of the lake, past the most popular beaches, up to one that would barely qualify as a beach. It’s a stretch of sandy pebbles and long, flat slabs of stone resting under tall trees, and it’s too far from town to attract any screaming teenagers.

You hop out of the van and stretch, arms above your head, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of the sun on your face. You hear him creep behind you, readying yourself for some kind of assault, his fingers in your side or arms around your waist to pick you up off the floor, but you feel nothing. Instead you listen as he takes the bag from the footwell of your seat and closes the door, and then hear his footsteps as they disappear behind you, down towards the water.

Something inside you is disappointed. You’re not sure why.

You follow him, eyes adjusting to the high sun, shielded by your hand at your brow. It really is quiet up here, you think as you step off the track and onto the stoney shore.

Eddie stops halfway to the water. It’s the middle of the afternoon, the sun is moving across the sky slowly, and so he appears to stop where the shade of the trees ends.

Out of the bag he pulls the two towels and you realise he’s carrying a blanket too. One of the ones you recognise out of the back of his van; one you’ve laid on too many times.

“Seriously, what are you looking at?” he asks without even looking up from where he’s wrestling the blanket, as though your eyes have lasers, burning deep, hot holes in the crown of his head. “Would you come over here and give me a hand instead of gawking at me?”

A fire spreads under your cheeks, fueled by embarrassment.

“Dunno,” you mumble, stepping over to hold down the corners closest to you. “‘S’weird seeing you be all… domestic.”

He stops moving, blanket suspended in his hands, and looks up at you, head tilted up awkwardly.

“Domestic?”

“Yeah, you know,” you stumble. “This is so… so normal.”

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment you’re scared you’ve said something wrong, but he just carries on lying the blanket flat and sits on it, stretching his legs out and resting on his palms behind him.

You feel silly standing beside him, so you sit, legs crossed. For a still moment the two of you take in the heat, listen to the chirps of bugs and birds and the soft lapping of water.

“We used to do shit like this all the time,” you finally say. The thought had been swirling around your head in the silence and slipped out of your mouth almost without you noticing.

He turns to look at you. You daren’t look back.

“Yeah,” he says, looking straight ahead again. “But you left.”

The words come out clunky and uncomfortable. You hear the trepidation in their disjointed sound, like he was trying to swallow them as they came out.

You’re not sure what to say. He’s right, of course; you were inseparable, best friends for four years, and then you went to college and rarely looked back, save for the holidays.

“It’s shit,” he continues. He still sounds hesitant, but Eddie has a tendency to speak even when he shouldn’t.

If he notices the way you squirm at his words, he doesn’t show it.

“I’m sorry, Eds,” you murmur, too scared to move too much in case you do something that hurts him even more than you already have. Somewhere down the line, you sensed that this would come one day. It was only a matter of time until he finally let you go.

“It’s hard,” you continue, fiddling with your shoelace, “keeping up friendships when I’m so far away.”

“We’re not friends, though.”

This makes you look at him. Your eyes snap to the side of his face, vision tinged red at the edges.

“What?” you bite.

“We’re not friends,” he repeats, still looking out over the water.

“Since when?”

“Since you came home that first Christmas.”

Your muscles ease and your eyes close as he says this and you realise where he’s going. You know what he means, the final weeks of 1986 fizzing behind your eyelids like old reels of film. A kiss spurred by booze and weed, hands over jeans and bare skin, the heat of his bedroom in the depths of December.

“Friends don’t fuck,” he says bluntly.

“Sometimes they do,” you retort, opening your eyes. You’re not sure why you’re pushing this, and you hate yourself for making it more difficult than it needs to be.

“No,” he sighs, taking his weight off his hands and sitting upright. “They don’t.”

A stiff silence sits between the two of you like a brick wall. Neither of you speak for a while. You’re not sure what’s going on in his head, but you’re terrified.

“Sometimes,” he begins, startling you, “when you call, it feels like something inside me’s on fire or somethin’.”

This stuns you silent. What on earth is he talking about?

“I don’t know what it is. I really hated you after you went back that first time and didn’t call for weeks, but then you did call and I didn’t hate you anymore, which made me so mad.”

Though your eyes are trained on a rogue stone that has made it onto the blanket by his knee, you can see the way his face contorts as he speaks in your peripheral vision.

“We’re not friends,” he says again, “because friends don’t do what you do.”

Again, you say nothing, breathing too heavy, throat like a snare.

You hear him breathe deeply again.

“Every time you come home I think it’s gonna finally mean somethin’, but you always leave.”

“Eds, I-”

“I know I encourage it, but, like… I guess you get my hopes up.”

There’s a heat blazing under your skin now. It’s everywhere, clawing up your arms and legs, scratching at the expanse of your back and up your neck.

Again, Eddie’s words seem to stall somewhere in his throat, like he’s saying them against his will.

“Friends don’t… They don’t hold hands, or kiss while they cook dinner together, or- or feel like this.”

He sighs, shoulders dipping, and it’s then you see he’s sweating. From the heat or from anxiety you can’t tell, but it’s there, seeping slowly through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

With those words, something inside you cracks. A chasm opens, splits something deep within.

“What do you mean?”

You’re not sure if the words come out this way, but it feels like you’re pleading, like you’re on your knees for him, begging.

“This,” he repeats impatiently, gesturing between the two of you, never meeting your eye. “Waiting for you to come home so we can fuck for three weeks and then having my heart broken again every time you leave and don’t call.”

You draw in a crackling breath of hot air and wonder if this is what suffocating feels like.

“Eddie,” you whine, “this isnt- you can’t…”

“Why can’t I?” he snaps, and the sharpness hits you like a whip. He finally looks you in the eye and you find a familiar pleading sorrow on his face. “If you can leave every time, why can’t I do it once?”

“I thought that was all you wanted,” you say in a whisper, scared of his sharp edge. “I never… I thought all you wanted was to fuck.”

You spit the final word, failing to hide the disgust in your voice. The lake feels miles away, the incessant buzzing of flies oppressive and cruel, the shifting sun lapping at your skin like an open flame. There’s no shade to hide under now.

“I just… I always thought I was just another girl, or just another fuck,” you admit spitefully.

“What the fuck gave you that impression?” he bites back, making you flinch.

“I dunno, I just… I dunno.”

“And I’m not just another guy? Just another fuck?”

“No!” you shout, too loudly for the stillness of the lake. A bird nearby takes flight.

“So you’re tellin’ me you’re not out fuckin’ guys at college?” he asks bitterly, eyeing you. “Seriously?”

“No,” you sigh, grateful for the sense of relief being honest has granted you. “No, Eds, it’s only you. Only ever been you.”

You watch as he eases, rolling his shoulders, leaning back on his hands again.

“Well, shit,” he whispers.

You breathe an awkward, stilted laugh, looking out over the water again.

“I guess… I guess the distance made it worse,” you say, riding the honesty wave.

“What?” he asks, looking up at you again.

“How I felt - feel - about you. I didn’t call because it was too painful, I couldn’t cope with how far away you were. Or any of you, Robin, Steve, Nance… I didn’t eat for weeks.”

“You never-”

“I know I never told you. I’d been so set on college, and on leaving Hawkins, I couldn’t bear to admit I actually missed it. It was just easier to cut it off.”

“So,” he says with brows furrowed in confusion, “why did this happen every time you came home?”

“The first time was an accident,” you say, laughing awkwardly again. “I’d spent three months trying to get over you and then I went back after Christmas and you were all I could think about again, and then coming home was all I thought about, too, and then I figured the distance would make it impossible so I guess I took what I could get and-”

“Wait, wait. Get over me?” He repeats your words with bewilderment.

“Yeah, Eds,” you laugh, lighter this time. “I’m surprised it wasn’t, like, painfully obvious.”

He just continues to look at you with that bemused twist of his face.

“It’s such a cliché! A crush on your best friend, and all the mags say it never works out, and it was easier to just try to forget about you, but then…”

“Tammy’s party.” He says it like it’s a profound realisation, like it isn’t the most obvious thing in the world.

Tammy’s party. There’d been loud music and loads of beer, and you’d come home from college a little more confident and dressed a little more grown up, and Eddie had pulled you into a room to smoke a joint and before you knew it you were in your underwear in Tammy’s guest bedroom, laid underneath your also-naked best friend, kissing him silly with your hands all over him.

“Yeah.”

“Christ,” he sighs, throwing his head back with his eyes closed.

“I guess you were right,” you say, looking back at the water. “Friends don’t act like we do.”

He hums and sits back upright, reaching over his head to pull his shirt off. And then he stands, shirt discarded, and begins to unzip his jeans.

“Eddie, seriously, you cannot want to do this right now.”

“Wha- What? No, Jesus, what is wrong with you…”

“What are you doing then?!”

“Going swimming! It’s fucking hot.”

He pulls his sneakers and socks off, shimmies out of his jeans, his pale legs damn near sparkling in the sun, and kicks them at you. You catch them, groaning, and fold them before putting them down and begin taking your own clothes off. Once you’re down to your bra and pants you stand and run, following him to the water where he stands, looking like an idiot in his underwear, knee-deep in the lake.

“You know,” he starts, reaching out to take your hands as you enter the water slowly, “I was waiting for the day you never came back.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you respond, the grizzly heat suspended by the sensation of the water around your calves. The two of you wade deeper until you can just about stand, heads and shoulders above the surface.

“Why would you want me?” He brings a wet hand to your face, moving your hair behind your ear and holding you there.

“Jesus, Eddie, this is so cheesy.”

“Hey,” he chastises, playful tone reemerging, “don’t ruin the mood.”

“Why wouldn’t I want you?” you ask, laughing.

“‘Cos I’m me.”

There’s a sorrow somewhere in those words that pulls you in.

“Eddie,” you say, holding his hand on your face with your own, “exactly.”

He smiles.

“Y’know I said… When you call, and I get that, like, fiery feeling?”

You hum in acknowledgement, thumb smoothing over the back of his hand.

“Christ, okay… Okay.” His eyes are everywhere but on yours. It’s funny, seeing him nervous like this. Eight years of friendship, four of something more, and it could never have prepared you for this version of Eddie.

He’s huffing and suddenly, for the first time since Tammy’s party, kissing him seems unreasonable.

“I- Fuck, I-”

“I love you,” you say first, and the grin that breaks with the admission feels like home.

The wind’s knocked out of you when his arm comes round your middle, movements slowed by the water. He pulls you so your chest hits his as he kisses the words from your mouth.

You’ve kissed Eddie a thousand times, some in the darkness of his bedroom, some in the pale morning light in his kitchen, and even some in secret at parties or when Wayne wasn’t looking, but this is different.

Rather than a quick kiss, or a breathy attempt at one, this is like a declaration. He’s moving against you like water over stone, smooth and solid. He’s so warm, skin blooming under the sun; you feel it under your fingers where they’re splayed on his shoulder.

He pulls back and breathes loudly before moving his mouth against your cheek and onto your jaw. Into the skin of your neck, he says, “I love you.”

You can’t help but think about how silly the two of you must look, standing shoulder-deep in the lake in your underwear like some kind of baptism.

You stand like that in the water, faces hidden in a strange kind of embrace, for a while before you move back towards the shore. He follows you out, and when he shakes his damp hair like a dog you copy him. The two of you laugh, bodies bumping, the closeness a comfort now rather than a suffocation.

“I’m sorry,” you say as you lie in the sun, your head in his lap, drying off under the heat.

“Huh?” He looks down at you, his hair like heavy curtains around his face.

“I’m sorry for making you feel so shit.”

“Oh,” he says, drawing shapes on your stomach with the pads of his fingers. “It’s okay. You felt shit, too.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No, but I forgive you.”

“Thanks, Eddie.”

He looks back at the water and as you stare up at him, you think about all the times you came home to the solace of his bedroom. The nights you slept there, wrapped up in one another, feeling him breathe beside you; the times you told yourself you were doing it because it was cold, and he was warm, and that was it. And you think about all the lines crossed, the affectionate glances, thumbs on cheeks and fingers in hair while you watched a movie.

“Eddie?”

He hums and looks back down at you.

It takes you a moment.

“Love you.”

He breaks out in a smile, a wide grin you’ve missed so much.

“Love you too,” he says.

#eddie munson #eddie fic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie angst #eddie fluff #eddie x reader #eddie x you #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic

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fieldofdaisiies · 7 months

Text

Cauldron Boil Me

ship: Sirius Black x Reader type: angst word count: 2,8k warnings: none request: @dreamingofmarauders Don't really have a concrete idea but perhaps a Slytherin reader, where she puts up a very rude and cold front, and Sirius is always picking fights with her. One day, he pulls a prank on her, but she was already stressed since she would get branded as a Death Eater when she would go home for the holidays, and she just snaps and cries, unintentionally blurting out what she is going through. Sirius feels bad and just please give it a happy ending! (Only if you want to write the request though)

"Filthy little mudblood."

You send your friend a glower, grinding your teeth so hard, your jaw starts to ache.

It is already bad enough that you and Sirius Black are potions partners, you don’t need your house mate, Evan Rosier, and childhood best friend to insult young Hufflepuffs on your way to the potions room.

Evan either ignores your glower, or he really did not notice, but he just keeps on walking, rather casually strolling through the corridors of Hogwarts. "Are we going to Hogsmead this weekend?" Sofie pops up out of nowhere, she is your best friend, shares a dorm room with you, and you every little secret. So, she technically also knows how you feel about Sirius and what might happen in the summer holidays, but these are all problems for future you, not something you want to be thinking about now.

"I think—"

"It is a great idea. We could go to the Three Broomsticks?" It is Mulciber who makes the suggestion and is immediately supported by Bertram Aubrey and Alecto Carrow.

You only shrug, not really in the mood to go to Hogsmead, knowing how dangerous it could be, and all in all you are not really motivated to do things these days. But you also don't want to let down your friends, and so you somehow have to agree.

"Yeah, why not," you say after Sofie nudges you with her elbow.

"I will be fun," she hums, smiling at you from the side. She wants to distract you, hoping to bring the smile back onto your face these dark times have stolen from you.

You try hard to avoid the groan from bursting out of you when you walk into the Potions classroom and the first thing you see is Sirius Black, the brightest star in the sky and the thickest idiot Hogwarts has ever seen. He is balancing his chair, leaned backwards, his arms stretched wide, holding onto the desk and the back of your chair.

"Good morning, my favourite little snake." Sirius grins, from one ear to the other. But it is not the sort of kind grin, it is wicked, almost a little gleeful and you already feel like slapping him. But obviously you don't do it, you are not a violent person.

You simply ignore him, grab the back of your chair, careful not to touch him and pull it backwards.

"Grumpy this morning?" he comments, and you decide to ignore him again.

"Got up on the wrong foot this morning? What is the problem? You always have a lovely comeback—"

"You are the problem." You turn to him, frowning. "And your face is."

"Because I look so incredibly dashing and stunning?" He wiggles his brows.

"Because you are even uglier than the large squid in the Black Lake."

Sirius dramatically folds a hand over his heat and gasps. "Ouch, that hurt."

"Good if your ego is a little harmed, it got too big for your body anyway." You sneer, and then turn away from him, focussing back on the front of the glass where now your teacher, professor Broomscattle, who already prepares everything for the lesson ahead.

When everyone calms down, and also your anger about Mr Black settles, you relax back in your chair and turn your whole focus onto your Potions teacher.

"Good morning, class, today you and your partners will be brewing a wonderful potion."

He opens his book, closes it, opens it again and flicks through the pages, a testament to his already starting forgetfulness and confusion. "Today we will be working on the Fire Protection Potion, also known as the…"

You rhand shoots into the air and when the professor calls your name you answer immediately. "Ice Potion."

"Amazing, five points to Slytherin."

You smile happily, at least something that is going well. But the smile immediately vanishes from your face again.

"Swot," Sirius comments and you kick your leg out, hoping to hit is shin. When he yelps, you grin in triumph.

"At least I am not as thick as a brick."

Sirius throws you a fake grin, but you are both ripped out of your bickering when the professor loudly announces that you should start brewing now. And so, cauldrons start to bubble, mist rises from the bubbling liquids and shadows are casted upon the castle's walls.

"You need to slice the brusting mushrooms, Sirius, not crunch them," you retort, and instead of arguing back he really follows your orders, but chuckles. "Alright, captain, so bossy," he mumbles under his breath, but once again you decide to ignore him.

Just like the cauldron in front of you does, so does Sirius make your blood boil. He enrages you, his sheer presence does. And your tiny little crush on him, which some happened totally on accident and without you being fond of it, does not make it any better.

"Clockwise. You need to stir clockwise, smartass." Sirius leans over you and the cauldron, his brow raised.

"Now who is the swot."

"Still the teacher's pet who earned herself house points moments ago."

"I dislike you so much," you seethe, stirring the liquid with more fore, it nearly swaps over the edges.

Sirius grins and small laugh escapes him. And despite him looking hella amused, some unreadable emotion that almost edges onto hurt passes over his face.

Next up, after the liquid turned blue, you add salamander blood and this time stir it anti-clockwise. "Anti-clockwise now," you tell Sirius, holding his gaze. "So, our smartass is happy." Your voice drips with sarcasm.

"Very happy, brewing potions with the person who loathes me the most in all of Hogwarts."

"That is not true!" you snap and want to cover your quick mouth with your hand. It is really not true, but…ugh, you curse yourself and quickly say, "I am sure there are many more who hate you even more than I do."

"Snivellus?"

"Severus!" Your voice drips with anger…you don't like Snape that much, but you hate that everyone is always mocking him, and bullying him. He does not deserve it, not at all.

Sirius coos, "Aww, are you two dating. Are you sneaking away to kiss secretly? The slimy git and his little snake."

You throw your head back and groan. "Shut up, Sirius, honestly. Or I'll hex you."

The potion in front of you has turned green by then which tells you it is time to at the crushed Wartcap powder and once again stir it clockwise until it turns red.

The air between you, enhanced by the high humidity and scent of potions, is thick. You are both walking on thin ice, and yet Sirius once again wears his usual mischievous grin. Stupid, silly Sirius Black grin…

"Y/l/N, remind me again why I got stuck with you as a partner. Honestly, I would rather brew with a three-headed dog."

"First and last time that I will agree with you, Black." You narrow your eyes at him, watching how his eyes sparkle at what you said. "But I think you are stuck with me, because it might be your one chance to pass this school year, we all know that in your brain there is not much except for hot air."

Sirius chuckles under his breath. "Well, Y/N, you might discover I'm a natural at this. I am smart, brilliant, intelligent, absolutely handsome looking. I don't need you to help me get good grades, but maybe you need my help?"

"You forgot one thing about yourself." You sneer. "You are also incredibly…insufferable."

In all honesty, you just want to be left alone. Your whole life is already so much to deal with, you don't want to spend your lessons bantering with Sirius. You don't want to think about him at all. You have a crush on him yes, but you are also very aware that nothing will ever happen between the two of you. It is not possible, he is all good and anti-Death Eaters, anti-Slytherin, despite his little brother being in the house. But you are…you are also anti-Death Eaters, anti-Voldemort, anti-war, but you can't escape your family's beliefs. It is not so easy for you. You are trapped and you have no choice. It hurts.

Despite the relentless banter with him, you manage to add all the ingredients together, though with a great deal of unnecessary shoving and bickering. The cauldron bubbles and releases a puff of smoke, making both of you cough.

"Well, done, you are getting us both in detention," Sirius grumbles, acting like it is your fault that the cauldron or potion just did that. You frown, then throw him a glower. "You don't have to talk, you are practically a walking detention. Wouldn't be anything new for you," you retort, your irritation evident in your voice.

You keep on mixing and brewing, silence stretching out between you.

Just as the tension between you and Sirius seems to be easing, he can't resist one last opportunity to stir the pot — or cauldron…

You both stand there, looking at your potion, he slyly waves his wand below the desk and mutters a spell under his breath. Suddenly, the potion changes colour, and bubbles vividly, frothing splashing and flowing over the edges and all over you. You cloak is stained in more than one colour, the liquid slowly trickling down.

Your jaw drops in disbelief, and you can feel your cheeks heat up with anger. "Sirius Black, what have you done?" you demand, voice tinged with fury.

Sirius bursts into laughter, his shoulders shaking. He did not expect the potion to blow up like this, but…

"Relax, Y/N, it's just a bit of fun. You look amazing by the way!"

You glare at him, your fists clenched at your sides. "Fun? This is an important assignment!"

Irritation burns through your veins and you feel how tears start to burn behind your eyes.

You only have school, you only have school were your work is appreciated, where you are seen. And now Sirius messed everything up.

"Relax, it's just fun." He grins but it vanishes immediately when he sees the hurt in your eyes.

"No, it is not. Not always is everything fun!"

You push off the desk, turn and sprint away, desperately wanting to get away so no one can see the tears now flowing out of your eyes.

It was just a silly prank…but it is too much. Everything is too much and this was now the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Unbeknownst to you, Sirius is following after you, not minding at all that your Potions professor is shouting after you, telling you to come back. You don't hear it over the blood rushing in your ears, Sirius simply does not care — there are more important things to deal with now.

Tears of frustration and anger blur your vision, as you try to escape from…everything.

You run through the corridors, not really sure where you're going. The weight of everything—Voldemort's looming threat, the pressure of being in Slytherin during these turbulent times, your parents and the whole situation at home and now this stupid, this absolutely idiotic, prank—feels like everything is going to crush you. You find an empty classroom and slump down in a chair, burying your face in your hands, sobbing.

You're crying, and you can't make it stop. It's all just too much, and you feel utterly alone. You don't even realise how much time has passed when you hear the door creak open. Startled, and with read puffy eyes and ragged breaths leaving you, you look up and find Sirius Black standing in the door frame.

"Hey," he says softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

"Hey?!" you blurt out and wipe away some burning tears with the back of your hand.

He startles, taken aback by your sharp tone. His expression — actually his whole demeanour crumbles— and he takes more steps towards you.

"Leave! What do you even want here?" you mutter, your voice cracking.

Sirius takes a step closer, his expression serious. "I didn't mean for it to go this far. I didn't want to upset you like this. I did not think you would react in this way, it was a silly prank."

You can't help but feel a bit surprised by his sincerity. A lot actually. This is not like him. You've never seen him like that ever before.

You expected him to make fun of you or taunt you further. Instead, he seems genuinely apologetic…

You are torn…should you tell him why you reacted like that? Curse him? Shout at him? Make him leave?

You don't know and you struggle a lot. You wipe away more tears and sniff.

And decide to finally open up a little. You have to tell someone at some point, why not him? Well, there are many reasons for why not him, but the situation is quite fortunate. And he comes from a pure blood family but is against blood purity, he might understand better than some others.

"It's not just about the prank, Sirius. It's everything. The current situation, Voldemort, the Death Eaters, my parents… It's all so overwhelming, and I don't know how to handle it."

Sirius pulls out the chair next to you and takes a seat, his gaze fixed on yours. "I get it," he says quietly. "It's scary. It's all too much for anyone at this moment I think. But you don't have to do it alone."

You look at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity, for the normal taunting and teasing glimmer in them. But all you find is warmth and understanding, empathy. It's a side of Sirius you've rarely seen — never actually.

"I just... I don't know who to trust anymore," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Everyone is acting suspicious…Everyone starts to hide things. I don't feel happy anywhere anymore. Except for school and then in school…this stupid prank."

Sirius reaches out and gently places a hand on yours. "I am so sorry," he says, his voice soft but resolute. "This was so idiotic."§

You swallow, the warmth of his palm somehow so soothing and lovely.

Sirius breathes out a long exhale, and throws his head back, dark curls shifting with the movement. "Good Godrick, I care about you. I care about what happens to you. I know it might not seem like it, has never seemed like it, but I really do."

Tears dwell in your eyes again, but this time, they're not tears of sadness. Somehow they are tears of gratitude. For his kind words and the showing you a side of him, he never lets anyone see. You never expected this side of Sirius Black, and it's both surprising and comforting.

"Maybe I also don't hate you as much as it might seem." You meet his gaze again, locking.

"You might think I am crazy about what I will say next…" His thumb strokes over the back of your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I like you, you know," Sirius says, his voice almost a whisper. "I mean, I really like you. More than just a friend."

Your heart skips a beat, and you can feel your cheeks flush. Your eyes widen in surprise. "You do?"

Sirius nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I do. And I know it's a crazy time to say it, but I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. You know, I am a little impulsive, sorry if that was too straightforward."

You can't help but smile back at him, despite your tears. In this moment, the world outside seems to fade away, and it's just the two of you in that empty classroom.

"This might sound even more crazy, but I like you too, Sirius," you admit, your voice filled with honesty. "More than just a friend. Except for the one moment earlier, I really despised you then."

He grins, and without warning, he pulls you into a warm, comforting hug. You bury your face in his chest, feeling safe and cared for in his arms. It's a strange and unexpected turn of events, but maybe, just maybe, there's a glimmer of hope in the darkest of times.

"I am still sorry, and I promise to never ever do something like that again." His hand strokes over your back and you find yourself nodding against his chest.

"Alright," you whisper, a single tear sliding down your cheek. "Alright. Apology accepted."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #marauders #marauders era #sirius being sirius #sirius orion black

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smolvenger · 5 months

Text

A Court of Mischief and Purpose, Chapter Ten

Loki x fem! Reader Series, A Court of Thorns and Roses/Mist and Fury AU Crossover with the various Tom Hiddleston characters.

Chapter Summary: You find the Spellbook halves and flee Vanaheim. But a twist makes it unreadable and the answer lies in Sakarr...

Series Summary: England. 1885. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you ...if you spend a week of every month with him. When the time comes to fulfill your end of the bargain, you are introduced to a world full of more magic and danger than you could possibly imagine...

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: PTSD and jealousy, Stella is anxious, Reader gets the hornies but no actual smut (not yet, we're almost there though, hehehe) , violence, and blood. Loki hurting a bitch because someone insulted his bb. Mutual pining. Light cursing. Grammar and editing mistakes.

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69

Thomas was sent out to tell the others to wait until tomorrow. To take a day rather than crash, rob, and run. You were introduced to the room supposed to be your bedroom. It was a lovely guest room with light blue walls and a darker blue comforter on the bed. Stella would have adored it. Your plans were only to take time to yourself to think and settle your feet until dinner.

You weren’t expecting Loki on your bed, lounging casually. His feet were over the edge and his elbow was against the mattress.

“Well then…I see you’ve been quite a success!” he said.

Part of your instinct was to ask him what he was doing in your room. Then again…you first truly met him in his intended form in your room. It then struck you- here you could both discuss plans without fear of any overlookers.

You folded your arms.

“And your own goal of flirting with the lady-,”

“She has a name, it’s Sylvie,” he corrected.

Fire churned inside you, a petty frustration.

“She must be awaiting you in your bed right now,” you replied.

It was a little bit of emotion, the emotional fire that got out of you, slipped past your own restraint. You waited for the smirk to appear on his face. It did not. He shook his head.

“In truth- no. Sylvie only glares at me when I flirt with her. Calls me a clown. I even showed her the fireworks. She looked like she would rather watch the paint dry. I only did a little- I praised her skill with daggers and she smirked.”

He went from lounging to standing in one fluid movement.

“She will be far harder to disarm, to distract.”

“Hmmm…so what should we do?” you asked.

There was a little itch on your chin. You lifted your hand to scratch it, glancing at the star marks on your hand. So little now- like scars. You were so used to them that you barely thought of them. Loki then gave a smile as he eyed them too.

“We did not train you for hours in vain. You have the very useful gift of your sensing. You must go about and try to sense where the book is…but my advice…”

He leaned closer to you, his voice getting quieter.

“Don’t sneak about the grounds. They will ask questions. Be discreet about it,” he advised.

You met him in his eyes and gave him a nod.

“What of your own powers? Loki…you can create duplicates, correct?” you asked.

“Why, Yes. You’ve seen it yourself many times,” he confirmed.

You felt yourself grin, throwing ideas into the plan.

“Can you make a duplicate of yourself to distract them? Or of me? Or of Thomas even!” you encouraged.

He tilted his head, pondering it. The slower growth of his smile showed that he approved.

“My dear, I can do that. I can also create illusions.”

He lifted a hand up, gesticulating as he went on.

If not a duplicate, then an illusion that you are there. Batting your eyelashes and saying ‘Yes Mr. President’ and swooning before him.”

You returned your arms to folding, feeling your eyebrows lift. But you continued.

“So step one, I will use my senses to find out where it is hidden. Step two, create the duplicates of us and Thomas. Especially to keep The President and Sylvie distracted…we will search for it. Make sure Thomas knows- I don’t want him left out!” you said.

Loki agreed, as he reached for the door you turned around.

“Who was the Weaver? Whose form?” you asked.

He returned your look, away from his exit.

“What makes you ask?” he questioned.

“He was shaking when he saw her. And I did not recognize her. Like he was in a trance. Had he not somehow got himself to take the sword and stab the Weaver, Loki, I would have been dead,” you pressed.

Loki walked closer to you, his voice still quiet.

Loki’s eyes hardened only a little. A sad shadow fell over his face.

“He told me you might ask questions. As I said, his past was…difficult, shall we say. But be patient with him, Y/N. He will tell you and the others everything, in time, when he’s ready…” he said before he left your room.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was to be another lovely dinner in the Knott palace in Vanaheim. Even amongst the wide tables and variants eating chicken legs with their hands as grease smeared all over their faces, you took note to cut your food into small bits and placed your napkin on your lap. The picture of polite gratitude that possessed no plans of robbery.

Even as you sat, placed next to Thomas and Loki, across from The President, your senses were reaching out, searching.

Spellbook half…Spellbook half…where are you?

Blast it, it could tell you the histories of the trees back home from miles away. Why was Vanaheim harder? Because of the magic infused everywhere perhaps?

You sipped your merlot. Thomas lifted up his glass.

“Why- all of you have been such lovely, welcoming friends. I say we must offer a toast to the Lokis. All of them,” he said.

“To the Lokis!” they repeated, eagerly taking a drink. Even the little boy gulped down the tan juice in his glass goblet.

Eyes turned over to Thomas. Smiling up at him, they leaned closer. Curious of the baronet more than they were of you or Loki. He smiled and patiently answered their questions.

“Yes- I have been trained to dance since I was a young boy! Sent to boarding school- surrounded by other trouble-causing little boys! But I passed and survived!” Thomas recalled around the group.

President Loki leaned back in his chair, one arm dangling over the upper rim. His golden horns seemed a little more polished for the evening. He did give you looks and you only looked down at your napkin with a coy grin.

“What else did you study?” Classic Loki asked the Baronet.

A servant went up and refilled everyone’s drinks from a large pitcher. You mouthed her a thank you.

“Mathematics, the sciences, the great writers of the past, and art as well…” Thomas explained.

Loki lifted up his glass to have a drink. You indeed had a look around- old paintings and busts on high niches surrounded the dining hall. You turned your head to admire them.

“My, this place does have beautiful art in it!” you commented.

President Loki lifted a glass to you.

“And you, Miss, are just one of the many masterpieces there,” President Loki oozed. You met his own look as he gave you a small toast and had a sip, eyes never leaving yours.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. President,” you replied sweetly, another coy glance down at your napkin, to glance back up at him.

Loki’s grip was so tight on his wine glass that he could have broken it in his fist. An iciness in his eyes. Yet he smiled- albeit tightly.

It seemed as if the dinner ended soon. The sky was still in the evening with an orange sky outside. Thomas turned towards it. He gave you a look and then to the variants.

“May I ask, all of you lovely gentlemen and lady- do you know of these pieces? I think we would all like a little tour!” he suggested.

Loki broke out of his trance to lower his jaw at him. You inhaled sharp, cold air through your nose in a slight gasp.

“Please include me! I must know all about the collection here!” you added on.

“Yes- indeed,” Loki agreed.

The President smiled “Oh, please! Allow me…I think I am more than capable of serving as a tour guide,” he offered.

As the servants arrived to clean up the plates, he went over to you and offered his arm. You draped your arm around the President. Thomas wiped his mouth with the napkin. He stood up next to you. Loki was merely behind. The President led all of you out of the dining room into the hallways filled with more paintings. Here there were tributes of all sorts of different mythologies on oil and canvas. He pointed out one of a woman and man embracing in a forest.

“This one is of Venus and Adonis…which I assure you, it has much resemblance to me,” President Loki boasted.

It did not. You smiled at him anyway. Your senses stretched out through the room like the lights from the chandeliers above-searching, searching. He discussed bits of each one.

Then he led you down back to the ballroom, showing the portraits. You then realized it was made of the various Loki residents who lived here.

“Mine is in progress as of now. I must make sure it is large and grand, so the people know who their votes go for. Here- this one is of Boastful Loki. He wanted it done by the best painter in Vanaheim-well, second to mine of course,” President Loki explained.

As you admired the details of the fur of the painting of Boastful Loki, you kept a polite smile and reached out your senses further.

There was something tingling- yes…there was something close...like a little bell in the back of your head.

There was something ringing in the garden. The garden outside the ballroom. It was actually far larger and went to the back outside the palace. Flowers, trees, and greenery as befitting a palace garden.

But something was out there- a labyrinth. A maze of green leaves and hedges.

There was a place beneath the bushes. A dead end. So it seemed normal. So none would suspect.

Trembling leaves. A secret door. The key beneath the flurry of green roses.

And behind the door-yes in that door…on a pillar…there was a library. And on one pillar…a book. Half of one.

There. There was the answer.

As your senses retreated back to you, you smiled up at The President lovingly. The joy of locating the spellbook added genuine exuberance as you spoke to him.

“I cannot decide which piece is my favorite! Though you are a wonderful guide!” you threw in. Thomas bit back the urge to smile further in amusement, though his eyes darted between you two.

“When I decide to campaign all nine realms and when I win….I am considering having a First Lady...” The President added.

Thomas raised his eyebrows and smiled like he was holding back a chuckle. Loki seemed so tense he would break into pieces and his face looked like in a second he was going to whip out a dagger and kill his variant.

You let out another laugh as you again glanced to the ground demurely, then looked back at him under your eyelashes.

“Oh- My. Mr. President, I am far too humbled…” you added.

President Loki only smiled at you.

“Only consideration…just in case…” he crooned.

You sent out a thought to Loki. His shields were far too down all while keeping your eye on the smug smile of the President.

“It’s in the labyrinth of the garden.”

When his thought returned to you, it seemed its same cool, even tone. Despite his tense state.

“You seem like you’re enjoying this,” he responded.

“Only because it’s working for me. Tomorrow- we go to the labyrinth. It’s hidden in a dead end. Alert Thomas. Remember- this is a mission, Loki.”

“Would you seriously consider being his First Lady?”

You swallowed a little, then flashed The President another smile as your thoughts went back to Loki.

“I’m just flirting with him like you asked me to do!”

“I know, but would you?” the God of Mischief repeated.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I only just met him.”

Part of you wanted to laugh- he was becoming a sullen child. Perhaps jealous you were able to crack the President successfully. And that he wasn’t able to with Sylvie.

The next day- it was decided. After breakfast, you all would go straight to searching. All of you talked privately and agreed on a plan.

Loki would create a duplicate of himself to make others think he was just enjoying another endless day of rowdy partying and relaxing with the other guests. As well as an illusion of you and the Baronet sitting in chairs, watching and smiling among them. Only conversing in polite small talk when prompted.

Then all of you crawled out to the gardens. You both snuck out, the bright wind whipping about and the sun bright. The smell of fresh earth beneath you.

Blast it, you already noticed around the hedges- there was The President first. Loki then conjured an image of you, an illusion. Dressed in a pretty day dress of bright pink like what you were wearing, right down to the hair on the top of your head. You were sent out, batting a fan and giggling.

The President wiggled his eyebrows and reached to touch your hand. The illusion took a step back.

“If you want to, then catch me!” it’s voice- no, Your voice- dared him.

She picked up her skirts and fled into the labyrinth. The President clicked his tongue. He placed his hands in his pockets, at first in a slow walk, and then began to search through to find you- your own excited echoes of flirtatious laughter echoing through.

“Why- where are you hiding little mouse? Come here!” he was teasing back as he wandered further.

Sylvie walked about the maze. Her gaze was forward and determined. All of you hid in the corner, peeking out as Loki sent out a duplicate towards her.

“Why- you seem especially terrifying today! Which enemies are you planning to defeat?” he said with a smile that failed to be seductive.

She glared murder into it.

“Please- I know a duplicate when I see one. Stop this nonsense!” Sylvie cried.

All of you froze in time, a small surge of panic from you. She folded her arms again and walked up to where you were.

“What the hel are all of you doing loitering around like fools when-”

Suddenly there was a little whirring noise. Sylvie cursed and reached into her pocket. A strange device- seemed to be metal and a rectangle began to creak.

“It’s broken! Damnit! Loki, even your talking makes it-”

Sir Sharpe stepped forward.

“Apologies Miss, but- might I have a look at it? I could try to fix it.”

“Oh, this! Used to be a tempad back in the day- I don’t trust you know what it is. But- it’s now just used to communicate with the others.”

“I will be glad to help, I have experience with such things, allow me…”

Thomas took the device. Then briefly glanced at you two, and gave a smile.

You put a hand over your mouth to hide the grin and urge to laugh.

'Our Brilliant Baronet broke her device. Now he has to fix it and distract her! Now, I’ll create an illusion, YN darling- we must hurry!'

As soon as their heads were lowered to focus on the communicator, Thomas providing the perfect distraction, Loki’s magic wielded another sneaky duplicate and a replicate illusion of you folding your arms and smiling. The two of you hurried off before she could see.

Your senses reached out as you both scurried along, trying to catch your breaths. You took Loki’s hand and pulled him in that direction. Sure enough, there was a dead end. Complete with a few green roses blooming near the wall of leaves.

Loki bent down and located the Green Rose. He reached into those delicate petals with his white, long fingers. They greatly overpowered the little flower. But they were gentle. Touching the delicate flower with reverence. You felt yourself staring. A second too long.

His hands…they were…so beautiful…

From between the petals, he plucked the tiniest golden key. As you moved aside the leaves, there was a tall door with the tiniest keyhole. He plopped it into the door and unlocked it with a click.

“Ladies always first,” he offered, opening the door as you stepped inside.

The inside looked almost like a burrow. How you imagined the Rabbit hole of Alice in Wonderland when you read it as a child. Roots of plants and an earthy smell. The dirt beneath your feet, stains your skirts and shoes. Yet you walked forward.

It did look like a hidden library. High brown bookshelves and more books piled around. There was even an old green sitting chair with more books piled on them. You noticed there was some light coming from above. Turning up your chins, you saw a hole from above the leaves leaving a direct stream of sunlight down, down, on…

Sitting on a pillar. A torn half of a book.

Relieved and excited, you both jolted forward. You took the book, holding it to your heart. A deep sigh of relief washed over you as you looked at the god. His shoulders relaxed and there was a smile on his face. He wiped off his sides, placing his hands on his hips as he spoke.

“Well, that was-”

Loki’s voice was cut off. There was a rumble, to where you had to catch yourself from losing your balance. The library shook like there was an earthquake. Books fell over from the shelves.

“What-what’s going on?” you asked in a panic.

There were sudden, long, clanging bells from outside.

“It’s a Trap! We must hurry- now!” Loki cried.

As you ran forward, there were vines and branches that reached out and began to crawl from above the earth. They snaked over everything. Long, greedy fingers reaching toward you. Over the books in that library- and you could have sworn many of them had thorns.

You both broke into a run to the door, but several long vines snaked over the entryway, blocking it. A few thick branches reached to Loki, trapping him and then to your legs.

You gritted your teeth.

“Oh, no you don’t!” you said.

You shoved the book for Loki to hold while his arms were still free.

You opened a hand and released fire. They felt hot against your face and you could smell the burnt wood and greenery. It burnt the branches and vines, while not touching the god, freeing Loki’s feet. He wriggled his ankles out of the vines and then headed towards the door.

You let out two hands of fire- one to stop the growing vines. The other hand blasted through the door. As you hurried outside, you noticed the vines shriveled in the sunlight, turning brown and dying.

As you went outside, Loki still clutching the book. There were already bells in the distance.

“It’s an alarm- they’re raising an alarm! Quick!” he cried.

You blasted your fire through the maze- cheating a way out as you ran through. You saw a dark waistcoat and a figure jumped. It was Thomas Sharpe pacing about alone.

Loki grabbed him by the collar like a kitten.

“We have the book! Let’s flee! Now!” he insisted.

Thomas said no reply but hurried along with you. You both raced through the loud bells of the palace as you escaped out the front door.

You hurried over to the streets. Sure enough, Hal and Jonathan had ran- meeting you both in the street corner. Hal interestingly kept a sheath with a long sword dangling by his side.

“Do you have the book half?” you asked.

“Twas up to Robert to go and fetch it!” Hal breathlessly explained.

“It had a riddle and the answer was a part of the brain only he knew, And-” Jonathan began explaining.

But he was cut off as three armed guards pointed to you- with swords out.

“Thieves! THIEVES!” one boomed.

You let out a small gasp, your hand hurriedly rushing to get your dagger hidden in your skirt. Dear heavens- here it came- when-

“All of you, behind!” Hal cried.

He charged forward, wielding the sword.

Before any of you could say a word, Hal ran to the guards. He quickly thrust and parried through them. He knocked them down- then found weak spots in their helmets and sliced a sword through the first one’s skull.

You gasped, seeing the blood gush. He fell down as a corpse. He then grabbed the next one- slitting his neck and then the other one, with one clean sweep, he beheaded the third and last guard.

All of you stood speechless. Their blood was gathering on the cobblestones in a large puddle.

Hal resheathed his sword. He was catching his breath, his curls freed.

“Now, dear friends, let us get to Kved, now that this business is dealt with,” Hal spoke calmly to the amazed group.

All of you began to hurry towards the palace, when a figure in a grey suit came out, hurrying towards you all. Before you hurried none other than Robert. He was partially soaking wet, there being a squishy sound he made with each step of his shoes. Water dripped from his hair. His clothes clung to him. But he was alive and he had in his arms a book half.

“I did it! I got it! That didn’t go too bad!” he declared with a tired smile.

There was a “BOOM!” sound. The Kved Tower burst into flames and then began to crash down. Breaking into shambles. There were screams as people ran to it with buckets of water.

“You destroyed it??” Loki cried.

“Not intentionally!!” Robert refused.

Jonathan turned around with a slight roll of his eyes.

“There’s time for fighting among us later- let’s hurry back!” he insisted.

Loki made a portal and everyone jumped through. Sure enough, all of you landed promptly back in Asgard in the same meeting room. Catching each other's breaths and yet also laughing.

“Robert, why are you soaked to the bone?” you asked him.

Robert tilted his head to let water drain from his ear. He then placed the book half on the table and turned around. He took out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from his pocket and frowned seeing that they were all soaked through.

“There were two riddles you had to guess. Hal got the first answer- and they gave him that sword. Then the second one- the real inner room it was in. Only one could go through it- the one who answered it. I figured out it was the brain-it’s my expertise, after all. After I grabbed it, there was a trap that made the room fill with water. But I made it out!” the doctor recalled.

Loki used his magic. A golden shimmer ran down Robert and he was dried in an instant.

“Now, everyone…let us see what it says about the spell,” Thomas suggested.

Loki placed the other half of the book on the table. Magic in a golden light reached between them- forming thin lines like stitches as the spine of the book was put back together. Everyone huddled together to watch. Jonathan reached to turn over the pages, all of you ready to see what it said. There were plenty of words on each page in big, black letters. But the writing of the book was not in a language you spoke. One you didn’t recognize. You turned to Loki, who put a hand to his forehead and groaned.

“Norns…” he muttered.

“What…what is it?” you asked.

Jonathan leaned forward. He studied it carefully.

“This…this seems to be more….nordic. But it’s old. I cannot make out what the words mean. And only one among us is accustomed to that,” the spy answered.

They all turned to Loki.

“I do not know a word of it…” he confessed.

All of you slumped. You felt your own hands bunch into fists. All of that work for nothing? A key was given…only it was still a few steps behind.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You did your best not to be discouraged. Though it was hard. But there were other pressing matters- Stella.

You went over to check on your friend in her room the next day. Since your little trip left her cared for, but alone except for a few servants, you promised to spend the day with her. She sat there on the chair before the windows, both of you sewing. Frigga heard of the new guest and was generous enough to supply thread and needles. Your own work was getting done, but so many times she set down her need. She sat there, looking out the window still.

“Is there…anything else you want to say about the camp?” you asked.

“No…I just wish….I could stop thinking about it, dwelling on it…it’s yet my mind keeps returning to it, reliving it” Stella mused.

You set down your own embroidery of a bird in flight.

“It’s just now…I get worried…frightened….that…he might find me. And any moment- he could be here…” she confessed sadly.

“I promise you, Stella. He doesn’t know you’re here. And he won’t know- and this place has guards everywhere,” you assured her.

There was a knock. In came none other than Sif as well as Loki and the other variants- Thomas, Hal, Jonathan, and Robert.

“Hey, how is she? We all want to know,” Sif asked as she folded her arms.

Stella looked up at the group, then at Sif.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Lady Sif…and I heard about a new guest here. And there’s a rumor you got…got captured, yes?”

“It’s true,” she nodded.

“Well- The queen sent me. I’m going to be your guard and accompany you now, especially when our other mortal girl is busy.” Sif shrugged.

“Us ladies have to stick together when we can!” you said with a smile. You saw Stella returned it, she reached for your hand. You clutched it tight, then as she looked at the others, her smile dropped.

“I am so sorry…for burdening you all. For interfering with everything I…I don’t want to be a bother…” she apologized.

“Oh, you couldn’t be!” Thomas interjected.

Stella looked up, trying to hold in her tears.

“I only…I don’t want to be scared!” she said.

You saw it in her- pressing it back. But you gave her the handkerchief with blue flowers and told her to let it out, to cry. Then she wiped her eyes.

“I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t be complaining…shouldn’t let all of you see me like this. I know this is much for all of you-I’m a good woman, I swear I am,” she said, shaking her yellow head.

“Oh, it doesn’t make you any less good just because you're unhappy,” Robert assured her.

Lady Sif looked around the plain, grey room with the plain, almost grey-ish furniture.

“Hmmph- if you stay all day cooped up like you have this week, you’ll make your room your prison,” the lady warrior said.

Loki folded her arms. “You should have seen your dear friend when she arrived here after her own heartbreak, Stella. Now look at her- smiling and thriving. You shall too, dear lady. Just give it some time.”

Stella looked again out the window.

“I’m…I’m not sure…I want fresh air but…but I’m just scared that…that…”

“The castle is heavily guarded,” Loki repeated.

“I know yet…yet…”

Jonathan leaned a little forward.

“Miss Harris,” Jonathan stepped forward. “There is a lovely, large garden here. Hundreds of flowers in bloom, roses tended to by the queen. Birds singing in the trees above you- Sif and I could accompany you there. I promise we won’t let you out of our sight for a second.” he offered.

She looked up at him. Her blue eyes became a little brighter.

“That sounds…very nice…as long as Sif or YN is there too,” she replied.

You gave her a smile. You remembered when you were still so used to your own time—getting used to being alone with men. No watching eyes. At least here, there would be some safety.

“The Gardens have lovely roses. And there’s a certain tree…the queen told me something about it, Stella. I’ll show you. I'll come up to join and tell you what she said right after I’m done training,” you told Stella.

Sif got up and opened the door, leading the way. The Night Manager offered his arm and she wrapped around it, walking over to the gardens.

As you passed by to go to the training room, there was a window overlooking the gardens. You saw them sitting on a bench outside. Indeed, the fresh air and the sight of flowers gave a warmth to Stella’s face. There was a peaceful smile on it. She walked about as Sif strolled around, hands in her pockets. Then she returned to sit on the bench there next to Jonathan. Sif kept chatting at them-you couldn’t hear what. Jonathan kept quiet- listening more than speaking. Sometimes gazing at Stella. Wisely, he only spoke when it felt needed.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A week passed. Stella seemed to improve slightly. She was sleeping better at night. She wore her blue beads every day and clutched them with white knuckles less often. She did more than just stare sadly out of windows. She visited the gardens daily, sometimes staying outside for hours. If you couldn’t be there, Sif stayed by her like a guard dog who would snarl at any enemy but wag its tail at their keeper. Thor met her and shook her hand so violently you feared it would come off. She became nervous when Queen Frigga came by to see her, but the Queen greeted the new guest with warmth, offering to tell her more in-depth about the gardens, like more like a mother figure than a powerful goddess.

Yet the disappointment of the spellbook still stung all of you. As hard as anyone tried, no one could make out a word. Not even Loki. The library was scoured to its darkest corner, but there were no translation guides kept in Asgard.

Then Loki called forth a meeting, but this time, there was a smile on his face.

“I have good news. I did some searching and asking…and there is a translation guide. All is not lost.” he announced.

There was an air of excitement among everyone. Thomas jolted upright. Hal leaned in a little closer. Robert had a giant smile on his face. Jonathan blinked, as if making sure this was really happening.

“Really? How?” Robert asked.

Loki held out his hand. A small image of a planet circling around in the air was conjured over it.

“There is a translation guide to the most ancient of Nordic…in Sakarr. In the Grandmasters palace.”

“What’s Sakarr?” you asked.

“A garbage planet. Full of the lowest, seediest scum. But full of games, tournaments, sports to keep its aliens and people happy,” Loki explained.

The little planet circled around in his hands. Then it vanished in a shimmer of light. But Loki pressed that hand to his chest, continuing his announcement.

“However…they will all have eyes on me. It will require someone sneaking around to find the book. But…there is a certain image of me…I have a history there. There’s a certain part of me they expect in Sakarr. It is savage, chaotic, lawless- and we must accept it and go with it. That side of me- it will show up-”

“Then- no matter! You play up the image and we will search! All of us!” you insisted.

“There’s a plan I have…but…”

His blue eyes went from the general group to focusing on you.

“And they already know about our lady. And…there’s a certain….image of you as well, my dear, that they have of you. And one you’ll have to play up. Or else there will be suspicion.”

“Alright, what role?” you questioned, shrugging your shoulders.

“I have to warn you…Sakkar is full of impropriety. You would hate the place. And you would hate what they heard about you- this…role. If you wish not to do it, dear Lady, I understand. It will make you…uncomfortable.” he apologized.

“Just tell me what I must do,” you pressed.

Loki explained it to you in a few words.

A hand flew over Thomas’s mouth. Hal had a small smirk. Robert turned away to regain control of the urge to laugh. Jonathan only looked intently, his face still.

You blinked. Then despite your nervousness, you took in a deep breath.

“I can do it. It doesn’t sound too bad. It’s all just pretend.” you responded.

Loki tilted his head, his jaw a little loose.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked.

“It might be new…but I will do it. For the sake of our mission, I will do it.” You announced.

Loki nodded, and then he turned to the others.

Loki nodded, he then grinned. He burst into a little half laugh that came out in a puff of air. It was him as much as his green and black robes.

“Well then- let us waste no time. And Jonathan- our dear Spymaster. You are the one most used to sneaking about, finding things. It will be up to you to find the book in the palace. YN will sense it and tell you. Can you do that?” the god asked.

Jonathan nodded, giving a little smile back.

“Of course, I can.”

Loki folded his hands, laying out the plan with the whole circle.

“I am in good favor with the Grandmaster. That will be to our advantage. He will let us all in and we will distract them- him especially. YN will sense where it is. She’ll tell Jonathan. Jonathan will find and get it as quickly as he can. Then we return. Simple as that.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Right before you left, a chest was brought. There was a screen for you to change behind. You slipped off your layers of clothes. Your stockings and boots were traded for simple sandals. The dress was easy to slip on.

Sakarr was surrounded by literal garbage like the sea around Asgard. It reeked of old rust and mold, making your nose curl. The city of Sakarr had red, green, yellow, and blue buildings. Far brighter, more colorful than you had ever seen, ever imagined a building to look.

The palace was unmissable. It was so tall, taller than any other building, that you nearly hurt your neck to look up, up, up. There were large statues of grey heads decorated in the middle. Ships flew through the air easily, making you gape in wonder at them. Going through the smog and crowds of people in cloaks, you felt a little awkward in your own garb. The other men were being as polite as they could to not gape at you. Then finally, giving a mutual nod, all of you stepped inside the palace. There were armed guards in black armor with either red or yellow accents. They noted you all as friends of Loki- and especially seeing you, they let you in.

The walls in the first rooms were grey and sleek- so futuristic, more than you could have ever imagined. Your powers reached out, sensing where things were. But sure enough, perhaps because it was touched more with technology than magic, your powers located the translation book.

You nudged Jonathan, then whispered in his ear.

“The study.”

He didn’t nod to make it obvious but gave you a look back and a small smile.

Then, you found the room Loki described- there were red and yellow lights. The thumping bass of music with whirring sounds. Music where you could not name the instruments. Blasting right into your bloodstream.

Once the doors slid open, you were let in right at the front. And you could feel their eyes on you. On your dress.

It was a rich, dark green. It practically shimmered with small sparkles beneath any light. No layers were worn beneath it. It was also very low cut, almost to your naval. The dips and curves of your cleavage full on display. It had to be. Your shoulders were exposed over the small sleeves. Then finally a long skirt a high slit, showing some of your legs. A dress that would give your parents- give anyone- from back home a heart attack. Lovely and deliciously scandalous.

You could already feel the eyes all on you. Some in desire. Sure enough, there were whispers and stares. All down your cleavage and leg. You knew what they were saying.

The Trickster God’s Whore. The one fabled around Sakarr. The woman who saved her own life when on the brink of death in exchange for warming the God of Mischeif’s bed.

Let them believe that. Let them be afraid of him. If not, a little afraid of you.

You made your place around them. All sorts of odd creatures and people mingling about this way and that. Waiting for the cue. Jonathan and Robert were merely polite. Hal fit right in as he got a drink in a glass and handed one to Thomas to sip on. Jonathan was quietly scanning everything- like your own group of guards.

Then there was attention as a man appeared. A man with tan skin, grey hair, and a grey goatee but with blue eyeliner, a blue mark on his chin, and yellow robes. Everyone turned their eyes down in respect. You felt his own eyes inspecting you, the exposed skin, and then he smiled.

The Gamemaster- you remembered everything from Loki’s explanation.

“Ah- so you’re our famous courtesan. Nice, Wonderful. Hmm- wouldn’t be surprised if all of you were.”

“It’s an honor to be here. And where is he? My own master?” you asked quietly, almost sultry. Folding your hands behind your back coyly and giving him a smile.

Then in walked Loki and heads turned. His leathers- pure black with armor on certain points. A long cape that was black on the outside, and yellow on the inside. Swaggering, chin up. Eyes full of deviousness. More like the Loki who first made the bargain with you when you first saw him in his true form. Without looking he reached over to where a servant carried a tray of drinks and got one without looking away. Heads turned again and even the music seemed to be dimmed a little.

“Ah, hello there- very good to see all of you…now…I have a lady waiting for me…” he announced.

He opened his arm- going forward. Then a hand. He smiled at you, one finger beckoning you to come hither.

“Come here, my dear,” he said.

You smiled at him, walking over to his side. The air felt cold on your exposed skin.

“Why…I must rest my feet- give me a seat!” he ordered.

“Who is letting my dear friend walk about? A seat!” The Grandmaster ordered.

One creature ran over, pushing aside several guests already sitting revealing a long, plush couch. They gestured over. Loki walked forward and sat there, taking you with him. You were about to sit next to him when he put a finger up to stop you.

“Ah- you are mistaken, my pet- this may be my seat, but this is your throne.”

With a small squeal escaping you, he picked you up with his large hands and placed you on his lap. Then masking it as delight, you smiled at him. Letting out a feminine chuckle as you wrapped your arms around him. Leaning in closer.

You felt his hand go down, fingers splaying over your leg. Looking up, you saw Jonathan had vanished. Now was time for a show. Time to stall. Distract- especially as the Grandmaster was here.

There was chatter and noise as the party continued. The others mingled- made small talk. The circle keeps any attention or questions about Jonathan’s disappearance to themselves. The Grandmaster began to discuss things you had no idea about with Loki. You merely smiled, feeling his touch all over you.

Loki’s hand went down to your inner thigh, squeezing it gently. You swallowed back a gasp from it, the touch, clutching onto him.

“Now then…where were we? Ah- yes, how is the business in Sakarr? And the Champions?” he asked going to the Grandmaster. “Who won last?”

“Korg. Again. At this rate- he will be my champion! Isn’t that just splendid!” he bragged.

“Hmm yes- oh he! The giant rock! Who would have expected it of him? Well- not at all. That is why we love it,” Loki commented.

His hand went further splayed- slowly touching you, running up and down your leg. Your bare skin on his bare skin. You felt something in your breath hitch.

Something in you…was stirring. Electricity. You looked down, feeling yourself get warm all over. Loki glanced at the Grandmaster.

“Sometimes my pretty little prize gets shy- how adorable of her. It only makes her more endearing to me. But this is a welcome place for her, and for us, hm?” he commented.

“Oh-of course…and by the way, as a thank you- there’s a room ready. If you need to…enjoy her for a bit,” The Grandmaster nudged with a wink.

Loki burst into light laughter.

“I will keep it in mind for later, I only wish to enjoy the party now,” Loki refused.

He tipped your chin and made you look at him. It made your mind go blank. Your breath quickened to a slight pause as he spoke- his beautiful profile right before you.

“Do not worry, pet. You do not have to…not yet. But you’ve been such a good girl for your god-”

He leaned over and kissed your neck—a small, sensitive area. A sound came out of you, like a moan. His hand got more and more up your inner thigh. A silent confession rang in your head. You liked him touching you. You liked his hand, his kisses. You liked being on his lap.

“Let me make sure you’ve enjoyed a drink here," he said.

Then he gestured for a servant to get you something to drink and a glass like an upside down triangle was placed on a small table before you.

Yet you didn’t want it. You just wanted, silently, for Loki’s hands to stay on you.

A feeling hit you. A feeling you never paid much attention to before. A feeling maybe you never had before. But his hands- his lips, his warmth. And the feeling was strong- stronger than it had ever been before.

Something was pooling between your legs. Something damp. It couldn’t be your courses- they ended recently. It couldn’t be urine. There was no smell of it. And it seemed to increase as Loki slid his hands over your bare skin. Making it feel cold, and tingly as he kept touching you, his long fingers possessively splaying over as he spoke.

It struck you. Your mother talked with you before your wedding and even longer before, the gossip you shared among friends. About the female body. What happened before the… act. Was this when…when…

“Your shield is down. And your mind is panicking,” his thought rang out in your head.

“What’s going on? What’s happening to me?” you asked silently, remembering to keep on the sultry smile.

“You don’t know…or you’re in denial…It’s only your body reacting to me, reacting to being touched, my dear. Nothing more to be scared about.”

“Loki, I…i just…”

“If you’re uncomfortable now…”

“No! We have to keep going! At least until they return!”

His eyes turned over to you, keeping its small smile.

“Say the word, and I will make it feel even better if you’d like….” he thought back.

Your heart beat harder. His smooth words in your head did nothing to stop the wet feeling between your legs. Only made it worse. You made no response to him. Could not. You forced your focus to the bright red and yellow lights over the grey walls and the music. Forcing yourself back in the present moment.

Perhaps anyone’s hand there on you would do the trick. You grinned away the discomfort, the strange feeling of arousal…and that you liked it.

Then one being- an Asgardian, clearly with a human appearance, with a bald head and muscles with a dark beard. Clearly stepped forward to approach all of you.

“Loki, when will the god of Thunder ever be caught? What a prisoner he would make for our games!” he asked, his voice a thick cockney accent.

“Skurge, that depends…why don’t you ask my dolt of a brother yourself? He’ll be glad to dance right in here,” Loki replied, shaking his head.

Skurge’s face got tight. His voice raised.

“Come on! Persuade him!” he demanded.

“I cannot. You cannot convince him of anything…” Loki continued to refuse.

“Then would you? It’s been so bloody boring lately!” he complained.

“Why would I waste my time fighting like that? It’s far less elegant for my taste, the style. Besides, I find spectator sport far more enjoyable...among…other activities,” he replied looking at you with a smile. He lifted your hand to kiss it and you felt yourself giggle a little, getting hot and tingly again.

Skurge huffed. He backed off and took three steps, and then he turned. And insulted loud enough that it echoed.

“I bet her cunt is the only spectator sport you like now, Lokes. Enjoy your filthy slut.”

Your mouth drops its sultry smile. You pressed a palm over your lips in shock, shame, to restrain a reply. Something cold dropped in your stomach.

Loki remained still. Very still. Looking right at the smug smile of Skurge.

Then a green light shone in the god’s eyes. In a split second, there were gasps as before his feet, stretching out, two shadows of Loki emerged. They reached out into the room and grabbed Skurge, pulling him to that grey wall.

The crowd gathered, and Loki only stared forward. His face was serene but focused. His eyes glowed green.

Skurge struggled, but in vain. Then, in a blink of an eye, they pulled both of his arms and twisted them in obtuse, angled directions. You heard the cracking of bones. Skurge released a pelting scream so loud that it could shake the palace. Then the shadows dropped him- his arms broken, fractured in many areas.

Your jaw dropped. The coolness earlier forgotten.

Loki glared at him right into his eyes, his arm re-wrapped around you again for protection.

“Call her that again…and it will be your neck,” he threatened quietly.

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 5 months

Text

Aaaand it's finished! If you're in the mood for a sweet, super fluffy Ed/Stede fic with lots of hurt/comfort, emphasis on the comfort, check this fic out! This is a 55k E-rated modern AU in which our boys are herpetologists, and snakes may be scaly but this fic is very fluffy.

Sweet little excerpt under the cut if you'd like a taste of what to expect!

The New Year’s party was great, at first, but as the night wore on, Ed noticed Stede spending more and more time sulking quietly near the walls, instead of actually hanging out with the crew.

“Hey.” Ed nudged Stede’s elbow. “You know the best place to see the fireworks? You can actually get up onto the roof if you have a key.”

“Really?” Stede still looked a bit distant, but he nodded. “That sounds nice.”

“C’mon.” Ed gave him a quick, playful peck on the cheek before taking his hand and leading him to the door.

Someone - probably Lucius - wolf-whistled at them at they were sneaking out, and Ed shot a good-natured middle finger to the room in general.

Ed led him upstairs to the fire escape, then ushered him onto the roof of the facility with a flourish.

The accessible portion of the facility roof was small and simple, just a concrete ledge that really wasn’t tall enough to have a good view of anything except other buildings and dirty streets. There was an old folding chair and a cardboard box that served as a table, upon which sat an ashtray and a faded, half-full box of cigarettes.

“I used to come up here all the time.” Ed patted the folding chair fondly before leading Stede to the edge of the roof, plopping down and sitting with his feet dangling over the edge. “It’s quiet. Peaceful.”

“Hm.” Stede sat next to him, craning his neck up to see the stars. It was a clear night, and despite the city haze, they could still make out a few little pinpricks of light.

Ed used to sit up here, looking at those same stars and wishing he was different. He was almost surprised to notice he didn't really want that, not anymore. “Gonna tell me what’s up?”

Stede’s breath steamed in the air.

“I just…” Stede sighed, faltered, started again. “This is another year gone, isn’t it? And it’s making me think - Ed, I’ve wasted so much of my life. I wish we’d been able to meet each other sooner.”

Ed heard what he meant, which was I wish I’d loved you longer.

“Sure,” he said. “Me, too. What do you think it’d be like now, if we’d met each other - I dunno, twenty years ago?”

“We’d probably be married by now,” Stede said.

“Oh, definitely,” Ed nodded. “But I think sometimes that things had to work out just the way they did, for everything to turn out right. I think you came into my life at the perfect time.”

As much as he loved Stede, he wasn’t sure Stede would have loved him, back when he was younger. Or maybe thinking about all that missed time would make him go insane if he dwelled on it for too long. Either. Both.

“Maybe,” Stede said thoughtfully, as if he’d been able to hear what Ed had been thinking. Sometimes Ed half-thought he could. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine knowing you and not loving you. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve loved you since you were born, I just didn’t know it yet.”

That was so fucking sweet, Ed had to kiss him, and he was a bit startled when he pulled back to see tears in Stede’s eyes. “Aw, babe, what’s the matter?”

Stede scrubbed at his eyes with a knuckle, letting out a frustrated little sigh. “It’s not fucking fair,” he said. “We’re not young, Ed. And we don’t know how much longer we’ve got left, or…”

“Oh, babe.” Ed wrapped his arms around Stede, pulling him close and letting him rest his head in the crook of his neck. “We have time, Stede.”

“You don’t know that, though,” Stede said, his face crumpling. “We don’t have any idea how much time we’ve got and - Ed, it scares me so much I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“We don’t know, sure, but…” Ed sighed. “I don’t know about you, Stede, but I love our life too much to waste what time we’ve got left worrying about when it’s gonna end.”

The first firework made them jump. If Ed listened, he could just make out the sound of the crew cheering inside.

“Oh, look at that,” Ed whispered. “Happy new year, Stede.”

Stede rested a hand in Ed’s hair, pulled him in for a kiss. “Happy new year.”

It really wasn’t the best place to see the fireworks, but Stede still gasped and oohed at them like it was.

“Hey, Ed?” Stede shrugged one arm out of his coat and wrapped it around Ed’s shoulders. He’d noticed Ed was shivering before Ed did. “What’s the plan now?”

“The plan?” Ed raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I reckon we kiss a bit more, then we go back in, party with the crew for a while longer, and manage to kick everyone out before three a.m. if luck is on our side.”

Stede nodded. “And…then?”

“Then…” Ed twined their fingers together, looked down at their joined hands. “We’ll go home, sleep in super late because we’re not built for staying up like this anymore. And then we’ll go back to work, and you’ll teach and I’ll be here, and we’ll spend time with the crew and when we get home you’ll fuck me so good it’ll blow my fuckin’ mind. That sound about right?”

“Mhm,” Stede nodded. “What else?”

“We’ll get married,” Ed went on, “and we’ll look out for our friends, and they’ll look out for us. We’ll go visit my mama when we can. And we’ll do loads of boring shit and it'll be amazing. We’ll go grocery shopping together, and you’ll pick up my meds when I forget to go to the pharmacy, and I’ll remind you to drink water when you’re in your office and you forget. And sometimes you’ll be a giant bitch over something trivial and it’ll piss me off, and sometimes I’ll forget to eat lunch and then act like a total dick, and it’ll piss you off. One day, you’ll decide you want to paint the kitchen teal, or some shit like that, and we’ll get into a big stupid fight about it before we realize we’re both being total dumbasses, and we’ll talk about it. And we’ll figure things out together. Because we’re on each other’s side, always.”

Ed leaned into Stede’s side, tucking his face into his shoulder. “One day, we’ll finally retire - probably later than we should, because you love teaching and I don’t know how not to be working, y’know? But when it actually does happen, it’ll be okay, because we’ll still have each other. Maybe we’ll move somewhere where we can see the beach. And we’ll die in each other’s arms.”

Ed kept his face buried in Stede’s neck as his silly speech tapered off abruptly. When Stede spoke, his voice was tight. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ed nodded, pulling back so he could meet Stede’s eyes. “I think we’ve been through enough that we won’t have to be without each other. I won’t lie, man, it scares me too, not knowing how things are gonna shake out, in the end, but I love what we’ve got. I don’t want to waste a single second worrying about things we can’t control.”

Stede managed a watery smile. “We’re in love. Fuck everything else.”

“Damn right,” Ed whispered. Ed held out his pinky. “What do you think? Sound like a plan?”

Stede hooked his pinky around Ed's. “Sounds like one hell of a great plan.”

Ed stood, reaching down a hand to help Stede up. “Then let’s get to it.”

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #my fics

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inquisimer · 10 months

Note

MER hap fri! How about ❛ i am trying to do the job that you were meant to do. ❜ for Alistair x Warden?

dredging this ages old prompt out for tonight's @dadrunkwriting, thank you ro mwah mwah

Some angst from Sari's first timeline :3

~~~

They made camp just a breath outside of Redcliffe, when the tension between Sari and Alistair threatened to snap. Tents came together amidst stony silence and soon the familiar smell of smoke and reheated stew enveloped them.

Sari heard her companions’ stilted attempts at banter as if through a fog. She took up a perch on the stump of a fallen tree and stared into the murky darkness of the forest. A yearning, deep and rooted in her heart, resurfaced.

Go. Run.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and looked down at her hands as she exhaled. They looked ordinary—pale, a bit scarred, perhaps a bit shaky. Certainly no one would expect the blood that coated them in her mind.

A twig snapped behind her and she stiffened, fingers folding into a tight fist. There was a very distinctive weight in the step and she knew each of her companions’ gaits well enough by now.

“We have nothing to discuss, Alistair,” she said. “You made your thoughts on my choices very clear.”

Alistair cleared his throat. “I know. But Leliana won’t leave me be until I talk to you. So if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stand here until I’ve satisfied her urge to mediate.”

“It’s not.”

“Hm?”

“It’s not all the same to me.” Sari glowered at a weathered root protruding from the ground. “I want to wallow in solitude.”

“Wallow?” Bitterness wrapped around Alistair’s words like thorns around a rose. “I thought you’d be celebrating the victory at Redcliffe. A demon defeated! A child saved!”

“Fuck off Alistair. You’ve been over here long enough for Zevran to distract Lana, and I’m really not in the mood to be your punching bag.”

“Yeah, well I don’t think Lady Isolde was in the mood to be your blood sacrifice either but here we are.”

Sari’s facade cracked like a lake under thaw and she whipped around, braids careening about her ears. She dropped down from the stump and stalked across the bit of distance Alistair had left between them.

“You had your chance,” she hissed. “You’re the senior warden, remember? If you wanted these alliances to be Chantry-approved, all you had to do was take the lead at Lothering.”

“But you didn’t.” She jabbed her finger into his chest with each word. “And now I am trying my best to do the job you were meant to do.”

“If you don’t like the way I work, go find some mage to send you back in time,” she bit out. “Otherwise use your preaching lectures on someone who cares to listen.”

“Sari—“ His hands ghosted over her arms, as though to grip her by the elbows and pull her close, but she swatted them away. The hurt in his eyes matched the hurt in her heart, but they were separated by an ocean of misunderstanding and miscommunication and right now she wasn’t sure there was a bridge wide enough to cross it.

“Just go, Alistair.” Her hands relaxed, fists unfurling as she gave him her back and returned to her stump. “Leave me alone.”

His hesitation salted the air, and a very small part of her underneath the layers of anger and hurt and betrayal wished that he would push back. But that was so far out of character, it was more of a foolish hope than a wish.

And the cracking twigs as he retreated back to the fire proved it.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dadwc #oc: sari mahariel #warden mahariel #alistair theirin #mahariel x alistair #warden x alistair #my writing #dragon age fanfic #ws: the old life haunts the new

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wintersongstress · 1 year

Text

WIP Day

@shallow-gravy made me get off my ass and look at my wip 😭 I’ve been working on this story forever and I’m so terribly slow, I don’t think I qualify as a writer anymore. Who knows if I’ll ever finish anything ever again! I sure don’t! BUT THANK YOU FOR THE TAG AND CONTINUING TO SUPPORT ME! Anyone who has ever read my writing and remembers any of it, you are my sunshine ☀

You had a hangnail on your thumb. You discovered this while squeezing your fist tight, tethering yourself to the present. It was a welcome, soft twinge of pain for you to focus on and you picked at it, fixing your eyes on the window. The candle before it illuminated the glass, and you watched the sapphire heart of the flame waver, heard the little hiss of it, and glanced beyond. A sky wistful with waning blue, a sunset throwing gold on all that was green, a hush of wind passing through the leaves, and your reflection blending in between. To take it all in brought you forward in time, to a crackling fire and a bubbling soup, and a purpose hanging over your heart.

It is not happening again, you reflected. And it will never happen again.

You were safe, you reminded yourself, safe in the present, grounded, and irrevocably turned to face the man who hurt you in a way no one ever had. You looked at him without seeing him, a dish towel in hand.

“Come on in, I have some dinner on the stove. It'll be ready in a jiff if you want to hang up your things.”

“I would be delighted,” was his reply.

He took off his Stetson, hung it on the hook. The sound of his coat being tugged down his arms and his gun belt unbuckling made your heart beat fast and your fingers curl into your palms again. Shaking, you gripped the edge of the counter. Steam from the bubbling pot kissed your cheeks.

A chair scraped across the floor. “It smells delicious, sweetness. I’m downright famished.”

You breathed in and out slowly. He folded his leather gloves beside his table settings and you prepared a dish for him. Spoonful after spoonful, you dipped the ladle deep and unearthed the chunks of vegetables, pouring them artfully into a bowl.

“Any luck tracking down that gang?”

He sighed, deep and tired. His elbows knocked on the table as he reached for the loaded bread basket.

“They slipped through our fingers last night, but we almost had ‘em.” Pulling the loaf apart, he ripped a piece and tucked it into his mouth.

You rounded the table and laid the baleful meal on his place setting, in a daze as he happily snatched up his spoon.

“Oh my,” he marveled. The polished silver of the utensil disappeared in the broth and came back up replete with the softened wild bulbs.

“These onions are quaint,” he commented.

The lie came to your tongue easily. “They’re called pearl onions. I have them growing in the back.”

And with a pleased grin, he feasted. You sat across from him with your own bowl, your spoon a special porous one so you could pretend to eat alongside him. He dipped his bread in the soup and drained his glass greedily, refilling it himself from the pitcher you set on the table earlier. Before long he scraped the bottom of the bowl and you replenished it.

You tried not to pay attention to his sordid aspect. The way he sniffed loudly and chewed openly, the dirtiness of his face from riding, the grease slicking his unwashed hair and the matted tips of his mustache, his eyebrows also unkempt and overgrown. You fixed your eyes to the grain of the wood instead, ate your bread with a slice of cheese and a handful of walnuts, munched on the salad of spring greens you prepared, all the while waiting for time to take its natural course as the toxins of the ostensible pearl onions invaded his system.

tagging: @a-shakespearean-in-paris // @pagonyban // @uhlunaro // @rivetingrosie4 and anyone who feels like sharing what they’re working on 💗

#tag game #my garbage writing

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noelle-holi-gay · 11 months

Note

hey Slimer! I’d like to suggest a Drabble of the annual Holiday-Dreemurr baseball game, and all of the chaos it entails! Congrats on school being over!

-Snarky

Kris frowned as deeply as humanly possible, shielding their eyes from the scalding summer sun. They were walking towards the baseball diamond out behind the school; it had only been two minutes since they got out of the car, and already they were sweating buckets.

"I am going to dissolve into a pile of ash," they said.

Toriel looked down at them. "I told you not to wear that sweater, my child."

"But I like this sweater." Kris pouted and adjusted their horn headband out of habit. "Why do we have to do this, anyway?"

"It's tradition, Kris!" Asgore said chipperly. He was wearing a hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap, and looked altogether far too cheerful. "Remember how much fun we had last year?"

Kris thought back. "Last year was pretty fun, actually."

Toriel glared at them. "No pranking Noelle with fire ants this time, Kris."

Kris groaned. "Then what's the poiiiiint?" They crossed their arms. "It's a dumb tradition, anyway. If we all jumped off a bridge every year would you make me do that too, because it's tradition? What if I died? What if I died and was dead forever?"

Toriel smiled down at them. "Well, it's a good thing this is baseball, and not jumping off a bridge to die forever, isn't it, Kris?"

Kris crossed their arms and grumbled to themself.

Asriel elbowed them in the side. "Aw, come on. It's not so bad! Just try to have fun, okay?"

Kris looked up at Asriel, then turned back to the baseball diamond and sighed. "Okayyyyy."

The Holidays were already on the diamond. Dess was practicing swings at home plate, with Noelle shadowing her, no doubt listening to Dess brag about how killer she was at baseball; Carol was reclining in a fold-out lawn chair, wearing sunglasses and a large floppy hat, with a book laid out on her legs and a glass of something Kris probably wasn't allowed to drink in her hand; and Rudy was running up to them, a dorky sun visor around his forehead.

"Heya, gang!" he greeted. "How's everyone doing? Ready to play some ball?"

Asgore laughed heartily and walked up to give Rudy a hug. "You know we are."

"I think baseball was invented by dark gods to burn people alive and suck our souls out of our bodies," Kris said.

"Yes yes, Kris, we know," Toriel said placatingly, patting them on the head before giving Rudy a smile. "Most of us are."

Rudy chuckled. "Well if they're not feeling it, they can join their Aunt Carol over in the stands, and they can both have no fun together!"

From over where she was sitting, Carol raised her sunglasses, glaring over at her husband. "NO they CANNOT. I do not need fire ants in my fur, thank you very much."

"You wouldn't have that problem if you got up and played with us!" Rudy returned.

"Not after twisting my ankle last year, honey," Carol called back, before lowering her sunglasses again and returning to her book.

Rudy shrugged. "Eh. I tried."

"It's okay," Kris said. "I don't wanna sit with Aunt Carol anyway. She's really mean and really boring."

"Kris! Manners," Toriel snapped.

Asgore laughed and said, "Kids, right?" which only earned him a glare from Toriel, too.

Rudy just chuckled. "Hey, hey. What she doesn't hear can't hurt us, yeah?"

"Uh…I'm gonna go say hi to Dess," Asriel said, backing away from the conversation.

Kris, seeing an opportunity to get away from the adults, followed him over to Dess and Noelle. Dess was still practicing her swings, and Noelle was still dutifully providing her an adoring audience.

"Hey, Dreem-nerds!" Dess grinned at the two of them, miming blowing their heads off with her bat. "You ready to get creamed?"

Asriel only smiled at the taunts. "Hey, Dess! How are you?"

"Ready to kick your ass, that's how!"

"Language," Carol called absently from behind them.

"We're down a player, though," Noelle pointed out. "Won't that give us a disadvantage?"

"It's not like she did much anyway," Kris mumbled under their breath.

"Yeah, we don't need Mom to beat you guys!" Dess said confidently. "My coach says I've got natural talent! You hear that? That means I'm the best at baseball!"

Noelle frowned. "Um, I don't think that's what it means…"

"That's great, though, Dess!" Asriel said, smiling wide. "Have you guys been winning your games?"

"Well, uh—" Dess faltered. "Well, some of 'em."

Kris snickered. "But not most of them?"

"Hey, it's not my fault! I've got some real loser teammates."

"That's not very nice, Dess," Noelle pointed out.

Dess scowled. "Yeah, well, it isn't very nice when Squidly can't throw the ball, either."

"Hey kids!" Rudy called. He and Kris's parents were walking towards them. "You guys ready to play?"

Dess and Asriel gave enthusiastic assent, Noelle nodded, and Kris huffed, but there was nothing they could do as they all took their places. The Dreemurrs had first bat, and Kris volunteered to step up to the plate first, just to get it over with. They held the bat in their hands awkwardly and looked across the field to Rudy, who was on the pitchers mound.

"Ready, kiddo?" he called.

Kris nodded, and Rudy threw the ball. It was more of a light toss than a pitch, though, and Kris watched as the ball arced through the air towards them. They were a little late on reaction, though, and the ball bonked them right in the forehead.

"Oh crap," Rudy said.

"Kris!" Toriel called from behind them. "Are you alright?"

Kris looked down at the ball, which had fallen by their feet, and picked it up. Then they dropped the bat and started running to first base.

"HEY!" Dess cried indignantly. "THAT'S CHEATING!"

"You can't tag me out if I have the ball!" Kris called back as they passed a very confused Noelle on first and headed for second. "I win!"

"That's against the rules!" Dess shouted.

Rudy exchanged a look with Asgore. "Um, what do we…?"

Kris kept running, blazing towards third base, where Dess was waiting. They stuck out their tongue at her, and she growled, leaping forward and tackling them to the ground.

"Gimme the fucking ball, you twerp!"

"NEVER!"

"DESS!" Carol shouted.

"Hoo boy," Rudy mumbled as he jogged over to where they were tussling on the dirt. "This year's off to a great start, huh?"

#deltarune #kris dreemurr #dess holiday #noelle holiday #asriel dreemurr #fanfiction #my writing #drabbles #answers

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kaminocasey · 2 years

Text

Remember Me

(Part 2 to One More Hour)

Summary: Dogma gets reconned after Umbara. You, the love of his life, will do whatever it takes to get him to remember you.

Pairing: Dogma x f!Reader

Warnings: Angst?

WC: 1K

A/N: Oof. I hurt my own heart writing this. But don't worry, there's a non angsty end. Here and Here are a couple of really hot tiktoks of Dogma in hopes of you forgiving me. (Dogma tiktoks are not mine. Credit to foxs.babydaddy on tiktok)

“Hey handsome, welcome back.” You lean in to kiss Dogma who’d been gone for the last month.

You’re glad to finally have him back on Kamino. You always missed him when he was gone. You’d gone an entire month without contact and it was one of the hardest things you’d gone through.

You had been slightly worried when he hadn’t sent out a comm that he was at least alright. You know the dangers that the clones are constantly put in. You pray to the Maker every day that the war will end soon.

“Do I know you?” He pulls away as Kix checks him out.

“That’s not funny.” You playfully smack him with a smile. Kix lets out a chuckle. Dogma looks at Kix, confused.

“I’m sorry… I think you have me mixed up with another clone, ma’am.” He tells you, seriously.

You and Kix exchange a look as your stomach drops. You look at Dogma with a furrowed brow and a tilt of your head, your heart clenching.

“You… you don’t know who I am?” You ask him, softly.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t.” Dogma apologizes.

“Excuse me, please.” You squeeze Kix’s elbow so that you can go and hunt down the one person who would have an answer.

Rex is talking to a couple of the guys from the 501st in the mess hall. He looks tired, you notice. You know it’s been especially hard the last few months for them. That doesn’t stop the fire raging inside of you.

“What the hell happened to Dogma?” You lean down next to Rex and ask him, immediately.

He looks at Jesse and Fives, then back at you with a sigh. “We should talk privately.”

He leads you down the hall to a private office that commanders use when they’re back on Kamino. You pass the room that you and Dogma first snuck off to make out in and your heart hurts because you aren’t sure if he’s ever going to remember that again.

“Well?” You turn to Rex with folded arms.

“Dogma… had an incident on Umbara… with Jedi General Pong Krell.” You don’t miss the way Rex cringes saying Krell’s name. “Krell turned clones against one another, had us kill our own… We took matters into our own hands. I was going to execute the general but Dogma did what I couldn’t do.”

You bring a hand up to your mouth. Dogma had only ever killed droids. You find it hard to believe that he executed a general.

“So, what happened to Dogma?” You ask him. “Why does he not remember me?”

“We had to tell the Jedi what happened. They told the Kaminoans. The Kaminoans decided to have Dogma reconned.” Rex hangs his head in shame.

“So, when you say we… You mean you?” You push him back with a finger, angrily.

He looks like he’s about to cry. “I’m sorry. I tried to take the blame. I swear to you I did.”

“I will never forgive you for this, Captain.” You push him with another finger and storm out of the room.

You walk back down to the medbay, finding Dogma sitting on the exam table, his back straight as an arrow, watching you. Kix isn’t in sight. You’re trying to hold yourself together.

“Kix told me who you are.” He tells you, his hands resting on his thighs, the same thighs that you spent countless hours straddled over.

“Oh yes. I’m one of the medical examiners here on Kamino.” You smile politely, your heart shattering into a million pieces as you let out a shaky breath.

Maybe you could try something to get him to remember you. Surely, there was a way to undo what the Kaminoans have done. You know you’re never going to be able to piece yourself back together if he rejects you this time.

“You’re my riduur. My partner.” He tells you.

You can tell the word feels foreign on his tongue since he doesn’t remember. Maker, It hurts. What are you going to do?

You nod. “I am… was.”

You approach him, cautiously, leaning against the exam table opposite him by just a couple of feet. He’s still looking you in the eyes, softly, like he’s searching.

“I wish I could remember.” He tells you. “I don’t need a memory to know you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Your heart clenches all over again and the lump starts forming as tears sting the corners of your eyes. You’ll never forget exactly why you fell in love with him in the first place. You want nothing more than to kiss him right now. You swallow the lump down and wipe your eyes.

“Dogma?” You whisper.

“Ma’am?” He murmurs.

“Could I try something?” You ask him, standing up slowly.

He nods. Maybe he knows what you’re hinting at. You walk toward him until you’re in between his thighs. He’s watching your lips, almost intently. He stays perfectly still as you rest your hands on his thighs. You hesitantly lean in toward him, swallowing, waiting for him to tell you to stop. He doesn’t, though. He eagerly closes the gap.

He kisses you as if he suddenly remembers. Perhaps it’s just muscle memory. You’d never get tired of these lips against yours. You don’t even realize you have tears slipping out of the corner of your eyes until Dogma’s hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing the tears away.

You’re so angry with Captain Rex, the Jedi, and the Kaminoans.

When he pulls away, he’s smiling, sadly. “I think my body and my heart remember but my brain doesn’t.”

You’re waiting for the rejection… for him to tell you he doesn’t want you now that he’s forgotten you. It would make sense.

“I think you’re going to have to help jog my memory some more.” He smiles, wider.

You look up at him. “Really?”

He nods. “Really.”

You know you’ll do whatever it takes to get him to remember you properly, again. Even if you have to tear Kamino apart.

TAGS: @livi-s @studioramekin @zoeykallus @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @wolveria @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

#tcw dogma #the clone wars #tcw #clone wars dogma #clone wars #star wars #clone trooper dogma #dogma #my heart #angst #sorry #at least there's a sweet kiss right?

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i-can-even-burn-salad · 1 year

Text

Voluntary

Undeserved

Warnings: Blackmail and talk about murder

This is part of a series. You can find the start here at Day 1.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

“You wanted to see me?”

“Ah. Nightmare.” The amused grin on Ed’s lips upon calling Damien by that name was reserved for when there was no one else around. “Come on in.”

Damien closed the tent flap behind him as he entered. Meeting Ed face to face, on his own, always felt a bit like walking to his own execution. Which was a pretty good comparison, after having been dragged once to what he had thought to be his execution. His nervousness made his fingers tingle, not unlike the sensation that still lingered in his right arm, two years later. No matter what that man wanted from him, it was never something good.

“Have a seat.”

Damien’s gaze followed Ed’s outstretched hand to one of the chairs around a shoddy table. He didn’t want to sit. Sitting in Ed’s presence was unnerving. He did what he was told anyway, keeping to the edge of the seat and taking care not to put his arms on the armrests.

Ed sat down across from Damien, propping his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands. In front of him was a map of Raqhar, with several colorful markers, one of them showing the current location of the rebel camp. Damien tried not to look at how close they were to one of the bigger cities. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t leave.

“What do you want?” Damien asked.

Some years ago, he would never have dared to talk to Ed that way. Now, it didn’t matter. There was no point in pretending he didn’t hate that man. As long as he showed no disrespect when anyone was around to witness it, Ed didn’t care, either. Why would he, when he held all the power? It was like an invisible chain around Damien’s neck, allowing him the illusion of freedom, only to strangle him the second he stepped out of line.

“So rude.” Ed clicked his tongue. “Fine. Straight to the point, then.” He stabbed one finger at a marker roughly half a day’s travel away from the camp. “The raqharian ambassador is going to meet with an envoy of the queen in a few days. They decided to meet on neutral ground, so he’ll be traveling from Gorin here, along this route. He’ll be heavily protected by his own guards, as well as hired mercenaries.”

Damien watched Ed’s finger trace invisible lines on the map as he spoke. He didn’t like where this was going.

“The guards are not a surprise, seeing as he is hated by most of his own people, as well as ours. You might remember that he’s the king’s cousin? All he does is fill his own pockets with what should be reparations for farmers and commoners.”

Damien had heard of it. “And?” he asked against the lump in his throat.

“And.” Ed pulled his finger back, folding his hands under his chin once more. “You’re going to kill him.”

The invisible chain around Damien’s neck seemed to tighten. “I’m not a killer,” he choked out, but the words felt stale on his lips. Wasn’t he? How many people were dead because of him? Killed by his blade, by his magic, by his refusal to do as he was told?

“Oh. My bad.” The grin on Ed’s lips was worse than his anger could have been. “Say, do you think Jesse’s a good shot?”

Damien’s mouth went dry. He should have known. A part of him had known. It was the one trick up Ed’s sleeve, one that never failed to make Damien do what he wanted.

Hurt him, or I’ll hurt Jesse.

Do what I tell you, or I’ll send Jesse.

Don’t run away, or I’ll kill Jesse.

Damien stared at the map, and at the rendezvous spot, blurring before his eyes. Sending the kid there was a death sentence. He wasn’t sure Jesse had ever fired a gun in his life. He surely wouldn’t come close enough to the ambassador to even try.

Damien would, though. His magic would allow him to remain undetected, one way or another. He knew enough of those damn contraptions to use them, instead of having them blow up in his face. His right hand still gave him trouble, but it would be enough to pull a trigger. And he had nothing left to lose.

Perhaps he should fuck it up on purpose, let himself get caught. No, he knew he was too much of a coward for that. He didn’t want to die, clinging to this pathetic excuse of a life. Finding a tiny spark of strength in each peaceful moment, each quiet sunset, as if there was still any hope left to one day find a way out. As if he deserved it.

“I’ll do it,” he whispered.

“What?” Ed straightened up, folding his arms behind his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” His grin betrayed his lie.

For a moment, the hate blazed bright in Damien’s heart. He wished he had a gun right now. He’d use it without hesitation, even if it would cost him his own life.

But Ed knew he was playing with fire. He never took the morlit band off. He made sure Damien had no access to any weapon more dangerous than a butter knife. He always knew where Damien was, what he was doing, who he was talking to.

“I will do it,” Damien said. He spoke slowly, putting all his willpower into keeping his voice even and swallowing his hate. “Leave Jesse out of this.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Ed clapped his hands, all excited, as if he hadn’t just forced Damien to tear the last shred of humanity out of his already ruined heart. “They’re already on the road, and will be here in about two days. Meet me tomorrow evening for further instructions. Not a word to anyone until then.”

Damien nodded mechanically. So soon. A sudden wave of nausea washed over him. “Is that all?” he asked, voice pressed.

When Ed nodded with a dismissive hand gesture, Damien jumped up. He had to get out. He stumbled to the tent flap, pulling it aside with shaking hands. The light outside was too bright, the air too dry, the sand under his feet crunching too loudly. Everything was too much.

Ed’s tent stood at the edge of the camp. Damien started to walk towards the open steppe, his body numb, his mind focused on nothing but to get away. He had to get his nerves under control before he could dare to face anyone.

Under a scrubby tree he sat down on the ground, despite the urge to keep walking. Nothing was physically stopping him, but the mere thought of what Ed would do if he left was enough to almost make him throw up. Damien leaned back against the tree, staring up at the sky, absentmindedly massaging his right hand.

Every single choice Ed had given him had been nothing more than an illusion. Every possible decision he could make would only be in that sadist’s favor. There would never be a way out for him. It was a game he had already lost.

[ID: The top image is a banner showing blurry, green glass shards on a dark surface. Across it is written the title of the story, Undeserved, in a bright to dark blue gradient with a white outline. All other images in this post are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

Tagging: @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-in-the-moonlight @teamwhump @kixngiggles @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

#Undeserved #whump #fantasy whump #my writing

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shy-peacock · 2 years

Note

A lil fic where Namaari gets sick and Raya takes care of her because some soft moments are necessary in these trying times ❤️

Just a funny/short snippet- not ideally sick but injured??? (maybe in-canon, maybe not) edit- I also know nothing about concussions but the brief moments I had one.

Raya expects Chau to get hurt.

It was his ‘thing’, despite it being a very unusual ‘thing’ to have. He was the clumsy, uncoordinated one of them all. The kid that was always falling flat on his face, only to pick himself up again and take off on a full sprint. Safe to say, it was a miracle he even made it to the age of seventeen. Raya had a fully stocked first aid kit in several tucked away corners of the house, her car and plenty in her office at the Sisudatu.

So when a grunt echoed out through their backyard, commotion rising, the family frantically rushing inside; it was any wonder that Raya was caught off guard when Chau wasn’t the one who walked in with a knot on his head-..but her wife, Namaari.

“I need every specialist on the floor, now!” Virana screeched as she stormed back and forth across the hospital hallway, barking orders at the nurses and doctors to come help ‘save her child’. Said "child" sitting up, completely fine, leaned into Raya’s embrace as she held an ice pack against her forehead. Icing the large bump there, as well as covering the tiny yet deep gash across it. All of them awaiting the doctor, who would be arriving momentarily to patch her up.

Large emphasis on ‘everyone’.

“Dammit, Raya-..you had us thinking Namaari was dying!” Boun grumbled, arms folded as he and Tong sat back against the wall. The young man pouted much like he did in his younger days, “we almost ran someone over trying to get here!”

“I didn’t say she was dying- Boun!” Raya snapped back, “I said, she was bleeding heavily from her head and that we had to get her to the hospital-!”

“I’m actually fine-” Namaari commented, “really-”

“You really aren’t though, Namaari.” Benja chuckled then, sitting in a chair off to the right of the hospital bed where Namaari was. Sisu at the chair next to him, his grandchildren Chau and Linh piled around him, sitting on the armchairs.

“Regardless-...Raya, you couldn’t think of any other way to say that-!?” Tong growled, “we were in the middle of a campaign-”

“A campaign…?” Sisu perked up, confused.

“Yes, basically it’s a sophisticated, complex tournament of the-” Tong began, cut short by Linh as she leaned over and spoke to Sisu. Loud enough for all of them to hear.

“It’s literally a board game for nerds..”

“EXCUSE- me…!” Boun huffed, “we are not nerds-...we are the Knights of Eterna..the greatest land of-”

Linh waved her hand, motioning towards them, a mischevious smile on her lips, “I rest my case…nerds”

“That’s not true.” Chau added, “I play it with them all the time-..it’s super fun.". He turned to Sisu then, wanting to convince her most. "Noi even plays it sometimes-" he added, mentioning the only one of them that wasn't here. Both her and even Atitaya on vacation, though different ones with their own families.

Linh rolled her eyes at her brother, “you’re only making my argument more valid…”

“Okay, Chau…Linh-...everyone,” Raya stated, giving them all a look as they tried to argue again, “my bad for not being more specific, but now that you’re all here-..I don’t think we need to make Namaari’s concussion worse by yelling-”

“Yeah, Linh..if Mom dies that’s on you.” Chau teased, nudging his sister with his elbow, “don’t make it worse.”

Linh scrunched her nose up at Chau, fire in her eyes. Clearly feeling bad for the very reason Namaari was in the hospital at the moment. The two practicing her swing in softball, Namaari pitching her the ball while Linh hit it across the yard. Only practicing, not actually knocking it out of the park! Which is what Linh did apparently, too eager to show off her moves, the ball flying straight into Namaari’s head. Knocking her out cold.

“Chau, did Mom ever tell you that you’re adopted?” she said, cocking her head to side in a mocking manner.

Chau's eyebrows knitted together, mouth falling open.

“I am not-!?”

“Sure you are, do you really think your FAT head could come out of Mom’s-”

“Linh.” Raya warned, looking at them both, “and Chau, stop.”

“Yes, Mother- listen to.” Namaari piped, randomly, her voice…off. “Grounded you are.”

A pause, noting the oddness of her words.

“Well-...Namaari’s hit yoda-style speaking,” Boun commented, “it’s all downhill from here.”

“Wait-...seriously!?” Sisu shrieked, “is she gonna die!?”

“Now, now-...don’t jump to conclusions-” Benja laughed.

“I’m fine-...so fine-.” Namaari laughed, sounding delirious then, making the matter worse as the room exploded into conversation and panic. One side freaking out that she actually wasn’t okay, the other trying to convince them that she was fine. Loud, their voices collaborating into one giant sound. Going on and on until-

“Er…excuse me…” a single voice chimed in, silencing them all in one single comment. The group turned, seeing an elderly woman standing in the doorway, a lab coat on and a smile on her lips. Virana, exhausted out of her mind, at her side. Looking as though she had raced all the way across Kumandra and back for the doctor before them. “If you wouldn’t mind…I’m Doctor Fa, if everyone could exit to the visiting area so I can fix up my patient-..everyone of course, but the wife- Leader Raya.” she chirped quite cheerfully, “please and thank you!”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You think it’s gonna leave a scar, Mom?” Chau asked, pushing her wheelchair along as they left the back room then for the lobby to checkout.

Namaari now all patched up, on some medication for the pain, and ready to go. Doctor cleared her so long as she stayed up through the night, was checked on regularly, and brought back if her condition worsens. She had a concussion, as expected, but she would be fine once the swelling went down. Stitches in, prompting Chau to question the aftereffects of Namaari’s injury.

“I wonder what shape it’ll be…” he contemplated out loud, gasping then, “OH MY GOD-...you could be like HARRY POTTER!?”

Namaari snorted, touching the wrap on her head, wincing slightly as it was still tender. Raya swatting at her hand playfully as she did, giving her a stern look all the same.

“Don’t touch it-” she scolded, “Chau, keep an eye on your Mom while I check her out- make sure she doesn’t fall asleep…or stand up-”

“Raya, I can walk-.” Namaari assured her, earning her a kiss against her cheek from her wife.

“Yes, we know-..and like I told you…three times now, dep la-...Doctor Fa said take it easy and insisted you relax.” she reminded her, “now stay put my love, Chau keep talking to her.”

“You know, Mom- speaking of wizards and stuff…what house do you think I would belong in- I mean, I like the color green but do you really think I belong in Slytherin?- Cause in my opinion I’d assume I should-” Chau began, his voice growing fainter as Raya walked to the front desk. Signing papers, release forms, silently. Happy that the chaos of this day was soon behind them, even though they had a long night ahead of them.

Raya thought she had come alone, only to turn and find Linh at her side. Speaking then to the lady at the front desk.

“Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt you.” she said in an incredibly sweet voice, all proper as she had learned from not only them but from her Grandmother, Virana. Especially around the councils. “I wanted to know about your return policy…?” she asked, dead serious.

“The…return policy..?” the nurse replied, confused.

“Yes, he’s about seventeen years-..” she responded, “I think we had a mix-up at the hospital-...”

At first, Raya was confused, then it hit her.

Oh my God-...

Raya realized what she was saying.

“Not funny, Linh” Raya stated.

Linh pressed back a smile, “worth a shot though-?”

“Sorry-..she doesn’t get out much-..” Raya sighed, forcing a smile at the nurse as she turned her daughter around to leave.

Grateful to be on their way home, done with the hospital.

(for now...)

#rayamaari #rayaari #raymaari #raya x namaari #namaari x raya #oc:chau #oc:linh #surviving kumandra city #SKC universe #ratld #ratld au

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mynameisjessejk · 6 months

Text

But In Our Selves, Prologue

Zarfel didn’t think this was a good idea, but he obediently followed his father through the echoing, empty palace. The mage had insisted the palace be entirely evacuated. Only Zarfel, his parents–who refused to leave–, and the mage were left.

His ankle buckled beneath him, and he would have fallen, except for his father’s strong hand under his elbow. “Zarfel,” he murmured.

“I’m okay,” Zarfel replied softly. It wasn’t remotely true, but the curse-mark that started on his heel and curled up around his ankle didn’t hurt, and if it sometimes meant he lost control of that foot and fell over, well. It was less of a pain than the curse itself–the plague that took his siblings, the famine that decimated their population, the mine collapse that ruined their trade opportunities.

“Well, we’ll see what this mage can do, anyway,” Ralmas said.

Zarfel only shrugged. This had been his father’s idea, not his.

The mage met them in the Royal sitting room.

Zarfel, who still couldn’t really feel his foot, sat.

“What exactly happened?” the mage asked.

“There was a vase,” Ralmas explained.

The mage gestured at him to be quiet.

Ralmas, surprised, did indeed fall silent.

The mage looked at Zarfel.

Zarfel shrugged. “There was a vase,” he agreed. “From Asharel. It didn’t feel right to me, didn’t look right. I dropped it on the floor, and there was a gemstone set in it that I didn’t like the look of, so I stepped on it.”

“Hmm,” the mage said.

“There was a flash of light,” Zarfel continued, “And my ears popped. Then nothing, really. I noticed that night when I took my boots off there was a mark on my heel, but I thought it was a bruise.”

“May I see?” the mage asked.

Zarfel toed off that boot, and continued, “It got darker instead of healing, and it’s spread over the last two years. My ankle goes out from under me sometimes.”

The mage knelt and carefully lifted Zarfel’s leg to get a better look at the blackened skin that curled around his heel and ankle. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

Zarfel shook his head. “Doesn’t feel at all,” he replied. “Not even if you poke it; I jabbed it with a pin once, curious. Couldn’t feel it.”

“And you said your ankle goes?”

“Well I can’t feel it,” Zarfel repeated. “So sometimes I guess I put my foot wrong and the joint folds instead of holding.”

The mage hummed. Fire sparkled at his fingertips as he probed the black skin.

It wasn’t really very much like a bruise, or even like the very dark-skinned folk over the mountains. It was just as if his skin were a true-black, and the edges shaded bluish before turning abruptly to normal skin.

The mage hummed again, and the fire on his fingers changed colors.

“Ouch,” Zarfel said.

The mage looked up. “That hurt?”

“Tingled, maybe,” Zarfel said. “Surprised me into saying ouch.”

The mage nodded. “It’s definitely a curse,” he reported. “Honestly, I think you’re lucky you stomped on it. It’s- well,” he said, humming thoughtfully. “It was designed to seep into whatever water system you filled the vase with, and everyone who drank out of it would die.” Zarfel winced. “And what is it doing now?”

“Nothing,” the mage said, surprised. “I mean, except slowly killing you.”

Zarfel blinked. “The plague, the famine, the mine?”

The mage shook his head. “Bad luck,” he said. “Or something else. It’s not you,” he insisted. “The curse broke when you broke the gem; this is just the blowback. And it’s going to slowly eat its way up your leg to the rest of your body, slowly paralyzing you as it goes. And when it reaches your brain, your body is going to shut down.”

“Oh,” Zarfel said quietly. If he hadn’t caused the disasters, maybe- maybe everything could be all right after all. He could just leave without having to worry about taking the curse to someone else, and Exhold could be okay.

“Can you break it?” Ralmas asked hopefully. Zarfel’s mother, the queen, clutched her husband’s arm hopefully.

“Maybe,” the mage said. Light grew around his hands. “Now,” he said to Zarfel. “Try to be still; this may actually hurt.”

Zarfel nodded.

The mage lay his gleaming hands on Zarfel’s ankle.

For a moment, it hurt more than Zarfel could stand–it hurt so much he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. And then it passed through pain into absence, and Zarfel blacked out.

The last thing he heard was the mage saying, “Oh shit.”

#jessewrites #But In Our Selves #NaNoWriMo

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ahungeringknife · 8 months

Text

365: March 4-9

I ended up not liking where this was going so it kinda fizzles out. I consider it not canon I was just fucking around. That's the best part of your own universe though; you can fuck around and find out as much as you want XP

------

Lemp nearly jumped out of his own shadow when there was such an earth rending explosion that it caused all the trees and plants to bend sideways. In the distance a thick smoke started billowing beyond some hills. "Oh no, what did he do," Lemp asked quietly knowing it couldn't be anyone but Anceion. There was some early touches of life on this world but nothing very complex. A few animals, some plants. They'd been very excited to figure out how life worked but Lemp had reminded Anceion that everything needed to be in balance or they'd ruin the beautiful landscape they'd spent so long meticulously crafting.

Animals started running away from the smoke but Lemp walked towards it. At the top of the hill he saw what had happened. A mountain in the distance had exploded and was pouring smoke and lava. "Oh dear," Lemp said softly and he could just make out a golden speck on the rim of the mountain. Fire was consuming the forest and as Lemp walked towards the golden figure on the rim of the mountain he pulled the rain with him. It followed just behind him, so well behaved it didn't even get his heels wet. Theground sizzled and hissed and cooled as Lemp walked across the inflamed plain and then up the side of the mountain. The storm moved beyond him but around so there was a hole in the clouds so Lemp and Anceion stayed dry.

"What happened?" Lemp called up to Anceion as he approached from below.

"Nothing," Anceion said dismissively.

Lemp joined him on the rim of the volcano. "Come on, you can tell me," he nudged Anceion with his elbow.

Anceion had his arms folded. "I got... frustrated," he growled out.

"Ah. I see," Lemp said looking around at the new volcano and the scorched earth around its base. "With what?"

"I want to make something but I can't figure out how. But I should be able to. I've made animals. I can make things that are alive."

"So the thing you want to make is alive?"

"Yes. But I want it to be more than just alive."

"What do you mean?" Lemp cocked his head at his brother in confusion. He was on Anceion's bad side so he couldn't see his eye.

"I want to make something like-- like us? But not like us. Only mother could make things like us. But something like us. Things that can think and feel and be."

Lemp looked down into the corona of the volcano. "Sounds like you want to make a baby god," he said.

"I guess," Anceion said but wasn't so sure. "I just want to make something."

"Why now? We've been doing so well populating our worlds before now."

"I don't... know? I just... want to? I thinkmp said just to not be outdone.

"Oh? What I'm supposed to? Mother said she had given me a special purpose before she left. Perhaps this is it."

"Ah. She gave me one too," Le's yours?"

"I don't want to tell you-

"Lemp!"

"It will just make you mad. So I won't. Maybe when you're not such a wrathful sun god," he needled his brother who was, as expected, furious. But he'd been furious before. Lemp yelped when Anceion shoved him down the rim of the volcano. He fell a ways but not into the lava.

"This is exactly what I mean!" Lemp called up to Anceion as he scrambled to find purchase on the inner cone of the volcano. He wouldn't die in the lava but he knew it'd hurt immensely.

"I hate when you keep secrets," Anceion said as Lemp started climbing out of the cone.

"It's part of my nature. Don't hate me for how Mother made me," he said, clawing his way back up to the rim. He sat with a huff next to Anceion. He looked up at Anceion. "Let's go somewhere not so hot and you can show me what you've tried? I might be able to help."

"I don't need help," Anceion grumbled, arms folded.

"Well I'm the only one who can help you," Lemp stressed.

Anceion stood there a bit longer and then sighed. "Right," and he unfolded his arms and started walking down the volcano. Lemp hopped to his feet and quickly went after him.

He cocked his head watching his brother struggle to make what he wanted. It was unusual because Anceion rarely struggled with anything. Even with one eye he was more than capable. But Lemp sat on a fallen tree watching his brother try to make something that both had life and more than life. He'd made animals no problem so it wasn't that Anceion couldn't make living things.

The strange being Anceion had cupped in his hands melted into magic that made him growl angrily. "That's it. That's what I can't do," he told Lemp, furious. Not at Lemp for once which was a nice turn of pace.

"Huh," Lemp said thoughtfully and toyed with some of his silver hair as he thought. Anceion folded his arms and turned away, purposefully not looking at him in annoyance. "I hate to say this but have to tried being calm when you've tried?"

"Of course!" Anceion shouted, flaring up like a sunspot, his one silver eye fierce.

Lemp raised his hands to show he meant no offense. "I'm just offering suggestions. Don't get angry with me."

Anceion huffed and looked away. After a moment he said, "Sorry. I know it isn't your fault." Then, hesitantly, he went, "Can you do it?"

"Hmm. It isn't really my thing but I suppose I can try," Lemp said thoughtfully. He collected magic in his palms like he would to make an animal or plant and shaped it while humming to himself. The magic was pearly white between his palms. Anceion came over to look as Lemp managed to contain the magic longer than him but Lemp could feel how unstable it was, how chaotic the nature of the magic was.

The magic blew up in his face with a snap like lightning and made him cry out. Anceion laughed. "Well at least it isn't just me," Anceion said with a grin.

"Huh," Lemp ran his hand across his face, fixing it from the way the magic had tried to split his face in two. Then he looked at Anceion. "Yours dissolves and mine explodes. Give me some of yours," he held out a silver hand.

"What?"

"The magic might counteract each other," Lemp said.

Anceion offered him some of his magic as a gleaming golden sphere that radiated brilliant white light. Lemp formed it together with his own and the explosion that resulted shattered them both to pieces and created a crater six miles wide.

Lemp came back from his pieces under the moonlight but Anceion was already there, waiting for him, sitting on a rock he'd dragged over. "Well. That didn't work," Lemp said and Anceion laughed. "But in the moment before it exploded I felt it."

"Felt what?" Anceion asked curiously.

Lemp had to think about how to answer that. "It was... not a spark but a knowing. I knew it was right. It felt... felt alive. That's the only way I could describe it. And in the way you mean. Not like how we give life to animals. Empty souls that mean nothing and do nothing that stay white and pure their entire lives. I felt like this... like it'd develop some color," and Lemp knew Anceion knew what he was talking about. The souls of animals were always white but they'd seen their own souls and they were a kaleidescope of color. An experience of living life.

"But it exploded," Anceion said.

"Yes," Lemp said slowly. "I think it will need a container," he said thoughtfully. They both sat in silence, thinking as the night passed.

"Any ideas?" Anceion asked as the gray dawn started to peak over the horizon.

"Well..."

"Well?"

"It's going to be a god? Sort of? Not quite like us. But almost us. So basically a baby god."

"Yeah?"

"Well how are babies made?"

They both looked at each other and Anceion said very seriously, "Neither of us have those parts."

"Yes," Lemp said thoughtfully, holding his chin. "But I suppose with some magic we could?"

"Are you volunteering?"

"Anything that lives in me will just end up dead," Lemp said simply. "And Mother gave you this task so she seemed to think you'd do it."

Anceion looked down and poked his stomach. "Do I even have enough room in here for all those bits?"

"Well we had to add a lot of extra to animals so their babies didn't kill them on birth. You're a god. You don't need all those extra extra bits," Lemp said.

"You think so?"

"What's the worst that can happen? You die?" Lemp smirked.

"But how would it come out?"

"Hmmm," they both sat in silence again for a while. "You could just pull it out?" Lemp.

"Like through my skin?"

"Why not?"

"I... guess," Anceion said thoughtfully. "Okay. I want to try. Now," he said and turned to face Lemp.

"Of course," Lemp said.

Anceion put his hands down on his naval and Lemp could feel the magic radiating off him. "I can't do it by myself at any rate," Anceion said.

Lemp moved closer to him and put his hands on Anceion's stomach as well. "This shouldn't hurt," Lemp said and after a second pushed both his hands into Anceion's navel. It made his brother jump and lurch away. "What?"

"It felt weird," he rubbed his stomach.

Lemp laughed. "I'm sure. I was shoving my hands into your guts. Come on let's try again," he said and Anceion moved closer again. "Why don't you try doing it first?"

"You think I need to?"

"Can't hurt," Lemp shrugged.

"Okay," Anceion said slowly and did so, dipping his hands into his naval. He winced. "It doesn't hurt," he assured Lemp. "It just feels so weird."

Lemp had to crowd his space to be able to put his hands into Anceion too. "How's that?"

"Super weird," Anceion said.

"I'll follow your lead," Lemp said with a nod as Anceion started using magic. It was a bit of trial and error but nothing Anceion had never made before. He'd made all the animals in the world; he knew what a womb was like. "That seems to be it," Lemp said after a few minutes.

"So give me the thing," Anceion said, a bit more pushy than usual.

Lemp collected his magic in such a way that was the basis for a usual soul. He normally needed to shape it properly but this was a blank. Anceion pressed his own magic against it and they both looked down at Anceion's naval full of hands as the magic throbbed but decidedly did not explode. "It worked," Lemp said, eyes wide, in actual surprise.

"Ha!" Anceion cried. "Okay I think you can remove your hands, I got it." Lemp did so but didn't move away. He stayed where he was and put his hands on Anceion's thighs. Anceion had his eyes closed while he shaped whatever this thing they'd made was. "How the fuck do you do this so fast? This is hard," he said, meaning Lemp shaping the animal souls.

"There's not much to an animal soul," Lemp said. "This is much more important."

"I think I need help again," Anceion said with a wince. "It's... getting away from me." Anceion shivered when Lemp pressed a hand back into his naval. The fused magic was rather volatile and unstable. Lemp curled his hand around the magic and helped settle it. "Okay-- yeah, that's better," Anceion said, a bit out of breath.

"Here, like this," Lemp said and helped show him how to shape a soul. Anceion had never done it before it wasn't a surprise he was struggling. Lemp had had to learn to do it too.

"Ah!" was the cry of delight Anceion gave when they both felt the strange soul become stable. "It worked!" he beamed at Lemp.

"It did," Lemp was still surprised. He withdrew his hand and after making sure everything was settled Anceion did as well. Then Anceion leaned forward and hugged him. Lemp wasn't about to miss an opportunity when his brother was gentle with him and hugged him back tightly. "So what is it a god of?"

"I don't know," Anceion said, sitting back. "That's exciting," he beamed. "I feel like with enough practice I could really make it into something specific," he said thoughtfully. "But I'd have to practice."

"So I guess we'll be doing this again?"

"Yes. I have some ideas of what I want but I'm not skilled enough to pull it off yet."

"Hopefully whatever it comes out as isn't a cosmic horror," Lemp teased him, poking his stomach.

Anceion laughed. "Couldn't be! But could you imagine," and they both snickered. Anceion got off the log, the sun was rising over the rim of their new crater. "Okay back to normal work until this thing is ready to come out."

"I'm going to go out to the ocean for a while."

"Going to make more fish?"

"Yes. And other things."

"I think we can't have enough fish," Anceion said thoughtfully.

"Want to eat one?"

"Eat? No? I just like watching the bears fish. It's so funny when they try to catch them jumping," and when he smiled, framed by the dawn light Lemp forgot what he was planning to say. "Anyway. I'll see you later, brother," and he climbed out of the crater.

Anceion hated sleeping but he found he did it more and more. One moment he was fine the next he decided to take a nap under a tree or out in a field. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy sleeping from time to time but he just had so much to do. He found himself sleeping more at night and taking one or two naps during the day. He fully blamed the new god growing inside him. It had some of Lemp's magic in it and his brother was, not lazy, but loved to slack off or take things slowly. He always found Lemp dozing on beaches, or the edge of a river, or amid the tundra moss and lichen, or in some cave and when Ancieon asked why he'd just say 'felt right'. Like that was a reason! But he started to understand a bit more with his more regular naps. Sometimes it was just time for one and it felt right.

Today he was curled up in a meadow sleeping. Maybe he also liked to sleep because the being inside of him kept kicking the shit out of him when he was awake for too long, like it knew he wasn't resting. It was quite something to be kicked from the inside. He wasn't sure what it would be so was hesitant to call it a 'god' like him and Lemp. It had felt like something wild because he couldn't shape the soul properly. Or rather he couldn't shape it into exactly what he wanted.

He kept his arm curved along his stomach as he slept to give it some support but it hardly bothered him.

He was startled awake when the thing kicked him so fucking hard it actually hurt. He groaned and squeezed his eyes closed. It kicked him again. "Stop that," he groaned as he put his hand on his stomach. He sat up abruptly as his magic felt why it was kicking him. It was ready. "Oh thank goodness," he said. He couldn't wait to not have his guts getting kicked.

Anceion reached into his full naval and his hands found a form and shape. It made a comical pop noise as he pulled it from his body and held it in his hands.

It was a baby. In the same shape as him and Lemp but instead of gold or silver skin its skin was split down a vertical line of symmetry. One side their skin was gold, the other side was silver. Even covered in black-blue blood from being inside Anceion he could still see its bisected skin and when it opened its mouth to cry he could see it was even like that on the inside. Its tongue was split down the middle but it had black flesh like Anceion and Lemp did.

"Huh," he said looking at the crying baby covered in his own blood. "So not some monster at least," he said thoughtfully. He had half expected some strange creature because who knew what could come out his body. "Come on now, stop crying," he used his magic to clean the baby and pulled it against his chest. It quieted as he held it against him. It was a tiny thing. Hopefully not helpless for very long.

"Oh right, Lemp," Anceion said remembering what his brother had said months ago. Find him when the being was born. As he got up his body protested. "Hmm?" he put a hand to his naval and found it completely in ruin on the inside. If he didn't clear it out it'd get all gross and fester and it wouldn't kill him but it'd be painful if his magically created womb got all infected. He used magic to clean it out properly. When he tried to stand again there were no issues. "Let's go find Lemp and show him what you look like," he told the baby against his chest.

It was a strange sight, his brother holding a tiny thing like a baby. Mostly because he'd never seen Anceion in such a situation. Even with animal babies he didn't really interact like that.

Anceion had found him on the edge of a lake skipping rocks and talking with a doe and her fawn who'd come by. He was good at skipping rocks and deer were good listeners. He always liked them. He should hope so, he'd made them. Or at least the idea of them. Anceion had looked at them and decided to make so many variations of them some didn't even look like deer anymore.

"Look, we made this," Anceion announced when he got up to Lemp and held out the baby. Lemp cocked his head to the side. It was a strange little thing. It was perfectly cut down the middle silver or gold.

"It's sort of cute," Lemp said, approaching the baby who had its eyes open. Even its eyes matched its skin. "Is it a god?"

"I don't think so?" Anceion said.

"No?"

"When Mother made us we came into being fully formed. This is a baby," Anceion said.

"Yes but Mother made us from star dust and space ice, she didn't birth us," Lemp said still looking at the baby thoughtfully. "But you're sure it isn't a god?"

"I don't feel within it the same I feel within us," Anceion said still holding the baby under the armpits. "I think it's just a new being."

"Huh!" Lemp looked at the baby for a moment. Then he reached out and put his hand on its chest, his hand was nearly as big as its entire torso. "It does have a soul," he said thoughtfully. "It definitely has the soul you made when we joined our magic together."

"I did say back then I wasn't sure if I'd done it right."

"Hmmm. Yes."

"So now there's a baby."

"Yes."

They both looked at the baby. "What do we do with a baby?" Lemp asked stupidly.

Anceion laughed. "Well I imagine if even if it isn't a god it will grow up quickly," he said all bright smiles and pulled the baby back against his chest. "Just in the days I walked here it grew twice its size and can hold its head up, it couldn't before."

"Huh. Does it make noises?"

"Yes."

"Can it talk?"

"I... don't know?" Anceion looked at the baby. "I imagine when its older it can talk."

"Did this satisfy whatever feeling you felt Mother had given you, brother?" Lemp asked carefully.

"Sort of," Anceion said, still looking at the baby. "I don't think this will be the last one."

"I see." They stood there for a moment or two in comfortable silence. "What's it called?"

"Hmm?" Anceion glanced at him.

"Well we both have names. If it is a thinking being like us it should have a name too."

"Yes," Anceion said slowly. "I don't know. We'll think of one as it grows, how about that?" he smiled at Lemp.

"We?"

"Well I have work and you aren't as busy as I. So yes I think it's fair you help. Also it's half yours."

"That's fair."

"So what were you doing before we showed up?"

"Skipping rocks and telling this doe-- about how foolish you can be sometimes." And not that he still thought about that smile Anceion gave him the morning they'd made this being.

"I am not!"

"I dunno you look pretty foolish from here," Lemp teased him.

"If I wasn't holding a baby I'd kick your ass," Anceion threatened. Lemp just chuckled.

Their name was Bayor. That was the name Anceion gave the baby when it started talking after a few weeks. Lemp looked after Bayor often and showed them all the small creatures of the world. All the bugs and worms and fish and little furry creatures of the forest. He carried Bayor around against his hip held there by silver magic so his hands were free. Bayor loved the butterflies but also the squirrels and little forest cats and the brightly colored beetles and the darting fish. Their delight was Lemp's. He loved showing Bayor these things since he'd never shown anything them as Anceion just knew and knew them more intimately than just looking. Lemp loved Bayor.

"Father, what that," Bayor pointed at a fish in the river.

"Glint fish," Lemp said and put Bayor down. They could stand on their own now but got tired easily so Lemp just carried them. It was easier when Lemp could walk miles and miles in a single day. Bayor leaned over the water looking at the long glittering fish.

"Do they taste good?" Bayor asked him.

"Hmm? I... don't know. I've never eaten one."

"Why not?" Bayor looked back at him.

"Because we don't eat," Lemp said. The child needed to sleep but like Lemp and Anceion they didn't need to eat.

"Okay," they said and that was it. "Uppy," they lifted their arms up and Lemp picked them up. "Where father?"

"I don't know. Around. Never far," he assured Bayor.

As if summoned Anceion appeared later that day, all beautiful golden skin and shining silver eye. Lemp was, as Anceion always put it, lazing about under some trees. But this time he had a reason! Bayor was taking a nap. But he saw Anceion approach from across the meadow radiant as always. "Brother," he said quietly when Anceion approached to not wake Bayor.

"Doing nothing as usual I see," Anceion in a whisper, hand on his hip.

Lemp frowned at him. "Bayor is sleeping."

"So?"

Lemp rolled his eyes. "Is there a reason you came here other than act like I'm lazy?"

Anceion looked at Bayor then at Lemp, "I'm ready to try again."

"Hmm?" It had only been less than a year since they'd done this in the first place. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Yes."

Lemp's heart jumped and he carefully laid Bayor down on the ground. The child did not move and slept on. "Okay," he said and stood up. "Lets go over there so your weird noises don't disturb the child."

"I don't make weird noises," Anceion whisper yelled.

"Yes you do," he teased Anceion

They did move away from Bayor back into the meadow. Overhead the ring that had once been the second moon was partially eclipsing the sun making the day a bit more dim. Anceion sat in the meadow amid the blooming grasses and Lemp sat in front of him at first before deciding to sit behind Anceion so their arms wouldn't get so tangled up.

"What's going to happen to Bayor?" Lemp asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well they're still little."

"Yes. Exactly." Lemp just made a confused noise. "At the rate they grow I figured it'd be better to make another one now and not later. They can grow up together."

"Oh! That's very smart, brother," and he hugged Anceion briefly. "I suppose I'll be watching both of them huh?" he sighed.

"Hey! I look after Bayor too," Anceion complained.

"Shhh, you're so loud," Lemp scolded him. Anceion grumbled but did settle down.

Anceion grunted as Lemp plunged his hands through his golden skin and into his naval. He was surprised Anceion had just left the divine womb intact but it was cleared out of what had made Bayor grow. That made it easier. He left what was a constructed soul in Anceion's hands but stayed while he shaped the soul properly. Lemp put his head on Anceion's shoulder, hands resting on both of their thighs, and waited if Anceion needed help. Lemp knew better than to presume his brother needed help so didn't offer it at first.

"Why's this so annoying," Anceion growled.

"Need help?"

"Yes. It's so... slippery. How do you just do this all the time?" he demanded.

"I'm not making a soul for something as complex as Bayor," Lemp said and pushed one hand back into Anceion. "But you don't have to be so rough," he said gently against Anceion's face. "It wants to become. You can be delicate with it," and he helped guide Anceion hands through the shaping. "See. Like this."

"Y-yes, I get it," Anceion stammered.

"Just be gentle with it like you would Bayor."

"Okay," Anceion said quietly and Lemp was surprised when he leaned back against him. He took a breath and tried again. This time it wasn't so wild, the magic straining to explode in their hands. The soul collected into itself. "Oh! There. Did it," he said brightly.

"Yes. Anything in particular?" Lemp asked as he withdrew his hand again.

"No. I am just trying to get the hang of it. I assume it'll turn out like Bayor," Anceion said thoughtfully.

"Heh. A sibling, just like us," Lemp said cheerfully.

He wasn't expecting how delighted Anceion would be by that. "You're right. He's had his nap long enough I'm going to go tell him," and Anceion got to his feet excitedly. Lemp watched him go fondly.

Lemp was dozing against Anceion's shoulder sitting behind him when Anceion shouted excitedly. He startled awake and was disorientated for a moment. "What? What happened?" he asked quickly.

"I did it!"

"What? What'd you do?" Lemp asked still not understanding.

Anceion's answer was to take one of Lemp's silver hands and press it against his naval. Lemp didn't understand what was so exciting about-

His missmatched eyes got wide. "That's a god soul," he said.

"Yes! Well, about as close as I can make it. Mother made us and she was far more powerful than I," Anceion said thoughtfully. "But this soul is divine," he said, absolutely giddy.

"Amazing," Lemp said as Anceion turned around in his lap to embrace Lemp tightly. Lemp held him back. Anceion was trembling slightly in excitement. "I knew you could do it," Lemp said, squeezing him.

"Yes," Anceion leaned back once Lemp let him go and beamed at him. He was so radiant. He was absolutely vibrating with excitement and Lemp just smiled and rubbed his arms. "I can't believe I made a god."

"We made a god," Lemp said.

Anceion froze, his one silver eye wide, and then he softened a bit but still looked more than a bit manic from excitement. "Yes. We did," and to Lemp's complete surprise Anceion leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. He almost immediately pulled back. "Ah- sorry I just-

"Don't be sorry," Lemp said gently. He'd seen some of their Young kiss each other like this. There were a lot more of them now. All wonderful and special but the two of them didn't spend all their time with them all the time. While all being born from Anceion's body they were all different and perfect and Lemp loved seeing their different facial features or how even when bisected their hair still sometimes came in weird. But most were grown and had started getting close and Lemp had seen them kiss like this. "Do it again."

#365 #writeblr #writblr #original fiction #original fantasy #original character

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roadtogracelandx45 · 8 months

Text

Courage Under Fire | Pre War Part 2 | Band of Brothers

masterlist

part one

@ohnoitsthebat | @prettyinpayne | @marycorleone

word count 2,664

Two

August 1941

South Philly

Eve Jenkins ran her sweaty palms down the material of her skirt again before she crossed the street to the Stewart household, Bill had just left her house a few minutes prior having told him that Bobby and Olivia along with Marla were indeed back and that she should try and make her peace with them too. It hadn't gone well for him and it probably wasn't going to go well for her either. For almost 15 months, she had been reliving the moment that Olivia found out that she and Bill had been together and how quickly she went from the sweet caring Liv, that they both knew and loved to a hardened version of herself. Her answers were curt and straight to the point and when Eve had tried to touch her to help shake her out of the trance she seemed to be in, she got slapped for it. By the time she and Bill got over their shock, Olivia had returned home and Bobby was playing guard dog protecting her.

It just wasn’t her that got hurt, it was also him, Bobby and Eve had slowly started forming a relationship, and it was snuffed out as quick as it started. But Bobby rarely cared about his own feelings, and when he did, he handled them similarly to how Olivia did, keeping things to themselves until something made them explode. And right as they were leaving to go to the train station, Bobby lost his cool and said some things that really cut both her and Bill deeply, mostly because of their prior friendship.

"You have a lot of guts coming here." Olivia's voice came shaking her out of her thoughts, the blonde was standing in the front doorway barefooted. The bright smile that was on her face faded when she met her eyes. "Liv, I just want to talk."

"Talk? You could have talked to me 15 months ago! You could have talked to me before you slept with Bill and broke my heart!" The pace of her voice never changed but the volume did and it caused two of her older brothers to come into the hallway.

"Liv." Evelyn started again but was cut off by James grasping his sister's elbow and pulling her back into the house. Daniel, the second eldest brother, who had lucked out with a pass from the Marines, stood close by, an almost thunderous look on his face. And for the third time, Evelyn regretted everything.

The Stewarts had all but taken her, Bill, and several others into their family, no questions asked. And she and Bill burned them. All because they couldn’t keep their hands and ideas to themselves.

"I will get your stuff Liv, just stay with the kids." Olivia looked at her brother and then at her former friend before nodding her head and going back into the house to Daniel who was ready to tell her another story about his deployments and some of the boys he had met while in training.

"You know this isn't going to do any good, you trying to talk to her. She shut down on Bobby and Marla for days after they left. You two destroyed her. And just because she is back doesn't mean you can come in and destroy everything again."

Eve had the sense enough to look guilty.

"We never meant to hurt her, Jimmy. Or Bobby. Things just seemed to happen.”

James laughed bitterly and folded his arms, “But you did.” He glanced over her head at the man in a postal uniform. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I have a package for Olivia Stewart.” With raised eyebrows, the older sibling took the package from him before laughing. Lewis Nixon, their aunt Helen’s cousin, favored the twins. He was sure if Lewis hadn’t been with Kathy, and Olivia wasn’t still a minor, they would have been together. But he learned early on that Olivia never did anything he expected her to. And Lewis knew that the twins and Marla were going back to Philly and knowing Lewis he probably sent Olivia, a bottle of Vat. 69, Hershey bars, and a piece of jewelry to add to her growing collection.

And honestly, if James had his way, she would be the one going down to Arizona in December to get married to him. "Who is that from?" Eve tried to peek at the label on it, but all she saw was the 17th Street address and Olivia's name and that was it. "Don't worry about it." He tucked the package under his arm and went down the steps to pull the carry all that Olivia was after down.

"There's our little bambina." Augusta Guarnere exclaimed later that afternoon, they had come over to Stewart's house for Sunday dinner, a tradition that was started when James Sr moved in with his 8 kids and Augusta realized that he was single and raising the kids by himself. Even though they didn't have much to share they still helped out until James got on his feet fully.

"Hey Mama G. '' Olivia smiled, letting the woman enfold her into a hug, she had been forced to come downstairs by her stepmom Andie. "It's good to see you," Augusta commented as she pulled back and patted her cheeks. She had hoped and prayed that Olivia and Bill would have gotten together again but he insisted that he wanted to be with Evie. To her, Olivia was perfect for her baby boy, and not even Bill’s repeated statements that it was over were going to change her mind.

"Too skinny though. Did you not eat out there?"

"She did." Bobby commented as he came into the kitchen and rescued his sister from Mrs. Guarnere's clutches, "She just ate less. Taking care of Grandfather took a lot of her time up."

There was one thing that Bobby Stewart was good at and that was lying and making them up on the spot. So much so that their uncle Finn told him he should become a politician. And he prided himself on that. In all reality for the first 6 months that they had been in Charleston, Olivia barely ate, she was so focused on Fredrick and Grace who passed in their third week there that she forgot about herself and her heartbreak. It wasn't until a visit from their Uncle Michael and Aunt Helen that they all realized that she was even smaller than before.

Augusta nodded her head and shooed them out of the kitchen, insisting that they didn't need to help with cooking because of their travels.

"I need to smoke," Liv muttered to her twin, she had started smoking after a violent showdown with their mother who had shown up and tried to weasel her way back into their lives and have Olivia marry a man that was old enough to be her father for the money that she would stand to see if she did.

It had been Lewis who had pulled her to safety and given her the first smoke and her second taste of whiskey, both things seemed to calm her nerves down and relax.

"I got you." He said pulling a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his front pocket. "You are the best." She laughed as she took it and slipped out of the front door. Andie, her stepmother insisted that all smoking was to be done outside to fill the house up with smoke and it wasn’t good for the littles that they constantly had around either.

"I didn't know you smoked doll," Bill commented as he came up the steps, he had run some mending down to a customer of his father's and had just made it back then.

"Yeah, I picked it up in Charleston." She returned before she held the pack out to him, her manners trumping her need to be rude, "Lewis, my Aunt Helen's cousin got me hooked on it." Bill took a smoke from the pack and then leaned against the railing next to her, "Calms my nerves a bit."

"How was it out there?" He figured that was a safe subject to talk about that wouldn't get him slapped or told off again by her brothers.

"Sad for the most part, Nana Grace died three weeks after we got there."

Grace had been Fredrick's third and favorite wife and a favorite of all the great-great grandkids.

"And PawPaw lost the rest of his marbles. He thought I was Lydia, he called me Lydia almost every single day, and he insisted that I move into her room and have all her belongings."

She pulled the small diamond cross necklace from behind the material of her dress, it had belonged to Lydia and had been taken from her dead body after Franklin, Lydia's own twin brother , found her and the bodies of their mother, two younger sisters, and baby brother. At first, it had freaked her out to wear it because of the story surrounding it but now she didn't go without it, it was a comfort to her to have it. It gave her extra silent strength.

"He insisted I had a debutante ball."

Not expecting that to come from her, Bill choked on the inhale of tobacco, "You? In a pretty white dress? And dancing? You hated formal dancing."

"Yes, me, it was actually a lot of fun. Lewis, came down from Yale to go with me." A flash of jealousy went through him and he clenched his jaw to keep it in.

"We were all expecting Bobby to be the one to go with me but he came in like a knight on a white horse with whiskey and lucky strikes to save the day.”

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she smirked seeing the anger and jealousy coming from him, she knew the fact that she was with another man was going to bug him. From the first day that they became friends, he had been possessive of her.

"Are you together with him?" He asked through a billow of smoke. Olivia raised her eyes to look at the blue sky to bide time. "I am not going to answer that question Billy, it's not your business. Not anymore."

"Kids!" Andie called from the open window. "Dinner.' Sighing she put out the smoke and pushed away from the railing to go into the house. Before she went into the house he caught her wrist and pulled her into him like he wanted to.

“Bill, please don't. I would hate to have my brothers kick your butt and your mother will cry if you start senior year with a broken face.” She pulled her wrist away from him and went back into the house, he could hear her excusing herself from dinner claiming she was too tired from the car ride to be hungry.

He knew it was because of him and because of Eve, they broke her, and she had put herself back together again like Humpty Dumpty.

***

After eating his own dinner, James took a plate into Olivia and Marla’s bedroom for her to eat, knowing that she was probably starving but didn’t want to come out, her stubbornness and pride being the biggest factor of it. “Thought you would like this.” He held out the plate to her. “Yes, thank you.” Olivia stood up fully from where she was going through the hope chest that had been delivered a few days before.

“I am surprised the Navy let you out to be here.” She commented as she sat on the desk chair curling her leg underneath her, James had graduated from the Naval Academy the spring before last and had been stationed first in Virginia, and with the war picking up in Europe there had been talks of moving them out.

“I am leaving the day after tomorrow, they are shipping a bunch of us out to Pearl Harbor and the Pacific.” He answered lowering the lid down on the hope chest and sitting down on it.

“Is the threat really bad of the war reaching the Pacific?” Olivia pushed the noodles and sauce around her plate waiting for an answer. “We don’t know kiddo, I am just doing what I am told.” He turned to look at the opened box on the bed, he had been right, there was an unfolded letter from Lewis sitting on top of the bottle of whiskey and Hershey’s bars.

“He and Kathy are planning their wedding.” She informed him as she twirled the noodles around her fork, “She is dead set on marrying him in Arizona and he wants me to come with Aunt Helen. Said I will make it bearable. Said if I was older, he would marry me instead.”

“What is going on with you two?” He scanned the letter quickly before taking one of the bars and opening it, biting back his own comments about how he wished that too. She didn’t need that right then, she was 17 years old and deserved to have some sort of happiness.

“We are just friends, really. He came down to the ball with me and we talked all night.” She shrugged, causing her brother to put the chocolate bar down and look at her fully, he knew Lewis and he knew Olivia, there was just no way that they talked all night. “Liv.’ “What happened between him and I happened and that’s it. And if you want details ask your other nosy little sister, she knows the truth.”

“Get it, sis.” He teased, he wanted to tell her to be careful and that he and Bobby wouldn’t be around forever to fight her battles for her. But looking at her just then, he knew that she understood that and she was being a lot more careful than she had been before. She had had her heart broken once, she wasn’t going to let it happen again.

***

Start of school 1941

“Olivia! Come on, we got to go!’ Bobby called up the stairs annoyed, he and Marla had been waiting for the last 20 minutes for her to come downstairs. “She is nervous. She spent all of last year being homeschooled by Nanny.” Marla said as she shifted her books to her other arm, “And Evie and Bill being in most of the classes aren’t helping any.’ “I know.” He returned, “Liv!” “I am right here, stop your shoutin’,’ Olivia finally said as she came down the stairs, “What?” Her siblings and their youngest brother Steven who had gotten away from Andie were all staring at her. “Do I have something on my face?” “No,” Marla answered as Olivia scooped their brother up into her arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek leaving a red lipstick stain behind causing him to exclaim yuck! And wipe his cheek off.

“You just look like the old you. It's kind of nice to see.”

Olivia offered them a beaming smile before taking the piece of buttered toast from Andie who took Steven from her causing the little boy to whine and reach for her. “We will be back soon Stevie.” She promised kissing his cheek again and ruffling the curls before following her twin and Marla out of the door.

Bill was leaving his house at the same time and slowed his pace to walk next to them. He took Olivia’s books from her and placed an arm around her shoulders, an old habit that they had slipped into once things had started to get better between him and the twins.

Bobby didn't want to kill him on-site anymore and Olivia was slowly letting him back in. The only one who was still frozen out was Eve and it was making her angrier than before. If they could forgive Bill then they should be able to forgive her too.

But only time would tell.

#ash writes #series: courage under fire #band of brothers fan fiction #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers oc #oc: olivia stewart #oc: robert stewart #oc: marla stewart #bill guarnere #lewis nixon #though Lew is only mentioned in this chapter. he shows up in the chapter after next

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genshinboys · 3 years

Text

Thigh job with Genshin Boys - Xiao

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Fem reader x Xiao

When you enter your flat, a handsome but grumpy Yaksha is sitting cross-legged on your bed resting his chin in the palm of his small hand. He grimaces and shoots something that can be referred to as a death stare in your direction.

Here we go again. You think to yourself as you close the door behind you.

„You are late.” He basically growls at you fixing you with another menacing glare.

„It’s nice to see you too, Baby.” You approach the sulking adeptus and lean in to kiss his forehead but, alas, he backs away and frowns in turn.

„Oh, no kisses then?” A smile on your face but a sneer in your voice makes his blood boil.

It is like a match in a powder barrel.

„Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N!” He warns. „I know all of your cheap tricks.”

You let out an annoyed huff. Arms crossed on your chest.

„Why would you even ask when I saw you following me all the damn time, hmm?” You accuse your boyfriend, gazing right into Xiao's averting eyes.

„I wasn’t follow-,” and then he goes silent knowing fully well that lying isn’t an option with you.

„So?” You nag, hoping for any kind of response. „No need to be this jealous, Xiao.”

„Don’t get weird ideas in your head.” The boy deadpans. „I’m not jealous!” He defends himself but it doesn’t sound convincing enough even for his own ears. He blushes and turns his head away.

You let out a sigh and smile warmly at your boyfriend’s pettiness.

Does he even realise how cute he is? You briefly wonder and then you reach for his silky hair and ruffle it affectionately.

It’s been a taxing, full of ups and downs journey since you met the haunted by karmic debt Yaksha. At first, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You were just another bothersome individual and he could not care less about your existence. It was unnerving. He was snarky, seething with rage for no reason, hiding his feelings for so long that it seemed to you that they were going to explode inside of him one day leading to his utter despair and demise. You got to know about his past and the weight of his karmic debt from Zhongli. You took pity. Somehow you felt compelled to help the boy, regardless of his repulsive demeanour. The golden-eyed Yaksha was of a different opinion, though.

Xiao didn’t want you to get close to him. He couldn’t make any sense of your stubbornness. Why would you even want to have anything to do with him? Him?

A barbaric monster, eaten up alive by remorse and regret.

A blood-thirsty fiend whose sole purpose of breathing is to slaughter and spread fear wherever he shows his face.

These were the thoughts so deeply engraved in his unfortunate soul that he couldn’t allow anyone to come near him.

He perceived himself as a hollow, barren of any human emotions vessel. The only feelings he was familiar with were pain and the burden of his legacy that he is forced to carry up to this day.

Bizarrely, as time had passed he was taken aback by some unfamiliar sensation of tightness in his chest. It wasn’t painful. Nothing that would come close to the distress caused by the divine will. It wasn’t permanent, either. It only happened in your presence, as Yaksha would hesitantly observe. Sometimes it got even worse. It would be accompanied by this fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach.

„Why are you this close? Huh? Do you have a death wish?”

„Move, I don’t have time to sit around and be idle like you do.”

„You have no respect for the adepti. Stop fooling around.”

The more he pushed you away the more you were determined to lure him in. You couldn’t stop laughing when one day Zhongli informed you that the troubled Yaksha came to him to seek advice regarding this weird tightness in his chest and an upset stomach when you were around.

And so, you smile fondly at your boyfriend as he yanks your hand away not liking the way you tousle the emerald green strands.

„I’m sorry XIao. I didn’t mean to be late. Just wanted to buy some jewellery.” You point to your thigh to get the adeptus’ attention back where it should be, which is you, not the wall.

Xiao glances at your thigh doing his best to remain impassive and uninterested. Unfortunately, his eyes widen a little and his mouth is somehow stuck hanging open as if he were to say something but the words never come out.

„You saw me bargaining with the shopkeeper, nothing wrong about that, right?” You explain to the adeptus currently captivated by the glimmering golden chain adorning your thigh.

Xiao has a lot to learn when it comes to dealing with his own emotions. You are acutely aware of that. He doesn’t know how to react, how to show that he cares or process what he feels. He doesn’t also entirely understand the purpose of half of the things that you insist on doing to him. Playful bites, tickling, holding his hand in public. He doesn’t question these actions even though it’s all a novelty. He does know for sure that it makes him feel flustered and all hot inside.

Does he despise it? No.

Would he like for you to continue? The answer to that question is definitely affirmative but Xiao is not going to admit it out loud.

He also has no clue how to initiate all of these things. Is he supposed to bite you back as well? What if he hurts you? Everything is so overwhelming as he’s endured years of solitude and sadness. You have to patiently teach him everything from square one. Nevertheless, it’s incredibly rewarding and you find yourself falling for him a bit more with each clumsy kiss, a shy but warm hug and an awkward attempt at complimenting you.

However, despite being not well-versed in sexual encounters, Xiao does pleasantly surprise you by catching up with everything real quick.

So, as his eyes are fixated on the trinket, you once again run your hand through his lush and long hair.

„Why would you even buy it? Pointless.” The boy retorts grumpily this time showing no signs of objection to your tender gesture. He moves his head up a little, losing himself to the tingling sensation going down his scalp.

„So that you can stare at me like that with those needy eyes?” You answer truthfully, barring the real intent behind your actions.

He snorts and his face turns into that lovely shade of pink and then deep red within seconds.

He would absolutely turn his gaze away if not for the fact that you take his chin in your hand and thrust his face upwards forcing him to look you straight in the eyes.

„If you don’t like it you can take it off.”

„No need.”

You chuckle softly.

„Let me make amends for my delay.”

You take a step forward and place your knee on the verge of the bed. Xiao drinks in the view of your thigh-highs squeezing into the meat of your legs. The chain shimmering lightly right above the lacy material.

„You can touch it, Baby.” You encourage the nervous Yaksha.

Visibly tensed, he reaches for the exposed skin and lightly traces the chain with his unsure fingers. It almost tickles but you let him do as he pleases and soon Xiao attempts to fully envelop your thigh with his greedy hand. He does cover half of it at best, but he seems satisfied and proceeds to squeeze it. It feels soft to the touch and he shivers at how warm and inviting your legs are in contrast to his icy-cold and sweaty palms. Bewitched, Xiao aches for more and he selfishly pulls you in so that you are now kneeling in front of him on the bed.

He stops breathing when you swiftly unbutton your shorts and undress for him. You let his eyes roam over your half-naked body for some time enthralled by the way Xiao’s pupils dilate in awe.

You lean into him as Xiao pulls you towards him for a messy kiss. It isn’t gentle as usual but full of passion and urgency. He whines when you bite on his lower lip but then you gently stroke him with your tongue to ease the discomfort.

Slowly, very very slowly, your hands go down his torso only to finally stop at the bulge in Xiao’s loose pants. You tug at the waistband and Xiao lifts his ass a bit to help you strip him naked. His penis, hard and heavy, resting now on his lower belly. He hisses when you palm his hard erection and that simple touch sends jolts of electricity down his spine. It leaves him intoxicated once you start gliding with the heel of your palm up and down the underside of his member. You repeat the movement and Xiao’s body jerks in response.

„Don’t tease.” The adeptus pleads through gritted teeth.

„I’m so sorry, Baby. Gonna make you feel real good.”

Xiao can feel himself growing impossibly harder when you place your feet on either side of his hips. When he looks down he can see your wet folds and the pinkish colour of your tight hole. Lying on your back, you prop yourself on your elbows so that you can look at Xiao’s face in the process. You scoot a bit closer to the confused boy, your bum is right in front of his erected shaft. You take his cock in your hand and guide him in between your thighs. In the beginning, you try to be delicate. You gently rub the tip of his cock, circle his shaft with your fingers and with a fisted hand spread his pre-cum all the way down to his pubic hair so that he is thoroughly lubricated. You wouldn’t like to hurt the boy during the whole ordeal.

His breath is shallow. Excitedly, you clasp your thighs together and start playing with his dick. You rotate your hips and massage his cock. It slides in and out and Xiao growls feeling ecstatic. You exchange between rubbing him with your thighs or gliding your hand along his cock, starting at the very top and working your way down to the bottom until Xiao can’t stifle his cries anymore. A few more strokes and he is definitely going to beg.

Xiao is on fire. It feels too good to be true and he wants this moment to last forever. He licks his dry lips and moans wantonly thrusting his hips forward. He meets you mid-way and the friction it creates every time he pushes his dick in between your legs leaves him gasping.

„You’re making me cum, Y/N.” He cries out for the last time before it is too late to warn you.

„Then cum for me, Baby.”

Obediently, Xiao shoots his thick and heavy load all over your lower body. For a moment the world around him seems out of focus and it makes him dizzy. He pants heavily and can’t catch his breath. He feels as if he was drowning. But then, your loving arms envelop him and he is safe again. You gently stroke his chest hugging him from behind. He melts in your embrace letting his head rest on your shoulder. His erratic heartbeat slowly going back to its usual rhythm.

„I think it looks pretty on you.”

„Hmm?” You want the boy to clarify what he meant.

„The chain... Looks pretty.”

„Oh.”

Shakily, he reaches out to put your hand into his and he squeezes them together.

„I’ll never let you lose yourself again, XIao. I love you and I will protect you forever.”

Xiao recognizes the familiar feeling of tightness in his chest. A single tear rolls down his cheek but he hurriedly wipes it before you can notice.

„Shut up.” The boy responds angrily and kisses you breathless.

Other boys:

Albedo

Diluc

Kaeya

Childe

Zhongli

Kazuha

#xiao #xiao smut #xiao headcanons #xiao scenarios #xiao reader #xiao x reader #xiao you #xiao x you #xiao imagines #xiao drabbles #xiao genshin impact #genshin scenarios #genshin smut #genshin headcanons #genshin drabbles #genshin imagines

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