#onyx is very special to me and not just cause she's pretty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkykeiji · 3 years

Text

hope you don’t stop running to me, cause i’ll always be waiting

character: dabi | todoroki touya - raver!dabi

genre: extremely sentimental fluff + smut with a sprinkle of angst

notes: okay so essentially, this is raver!dabi, but like the piece isn't really focused around that. the piece is about this all encompassing, ravenous love the reader feels for him, and it really borders on unhealthy obsession; it's about how he's the happiest she ever sees him at raves, but it's bittersweet because he's so fucking high, and it kind of contrasts his love for raves and drugs with her love for him | title cred: cinema by benny benassi ft. skrillex and gary go

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, size difference, drugs, obsessive unhealthy relationship, extreme codependency, manipulation if u squint, minimal prep, a sprinkle of degradation

words: 6k

synopsis:

And he’s so fucking breathtaking—striking sapphires and stunning smile more spectacular than any piece of art you’ve ever seen, the combined melody of deep grunts and trembling groans rattling around behind his ribs better than any piece of music you’ve ever heard, endless words streaming from his swollen ruby lips lovelier than any piece of fine literature you’ve ever read.

He’s walking art, talking art, living, breathing, feeling art—and he’s all yours.

There’s nothing he loves more, no where he feels more at home, more at ease, more himself, than at a rave, you’re absolutely sure of it.

He sniffs them out like a hound, manages to find them no matter what city or country he’s in; loves them indiscriminately, regardless of how big or small they are; and drags you to each one he attends. Because he’s addicted to every single thing about them—irrevocably hooked on the pounding music that throbs like a beating heart, the marvelous colours that sear through the venue like vibrant flares of blood, the pretty pills and dazzling tabs and soft, soft powder—it all turns the party into a living entity, breathes life into the crowd, intoxicates him like nothing he’s ever felt before; and he’ll never be able to get enough of them, enough of how they make him feel, how they make him forget.

But he wants you there with him every time.

Sometimes, he’s hauling you into dingy basements full of wispy smoke and blaring speakers, staticky as they thrash out beats over a crowd, atmosphere saturated with sweat and the sickly sweet smell of hard candies. Others, he’s pulling you along on a lush field or cracked concrete tainted with brilliant flashes of crimson and violet, through thousands and thousands of people adorned in spiky fur and holographic latex until he finds the stage he’s looking for.

You don’t mind, though, unbothered by the pulsing music and the glistening crowds. You don’t mind, because this is your only chance to get these fleeting little glimpses of what true, pure happiness looks like on him—and you’re fucking addicted to it.

This weekend it happens to be a two-day-long EDM festival, set up far away from society in a large grassy meadow, embellished with wildflowers that dot the tangled jade strands with pops of pastel pinks and yellows and ivories—and it’s enchanting, whimsical, almost surreal in a sense. You can feel it, the atmosphere that drapes the masses of people scattered across the rolling hills, an energy unlike any other that envelops the patrons and lulls them into a state of soothing bliss.

He loves it. You love him.

And you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to accurately explain what the feeling of accompanying him to a rave is like; you don’t think the words even exist—the essence and aura, the feelings that swirl around in your chest, fuzzy and fluttery and fierce, transcending any and all languages. Because they’re something bigger, something better—they’re something higher, something stronger, something more than any word could ever describe.

No, there’s no way to define it, to portray it, nothing to encapsulate or summarize it, the genuine happiness that encompasses him, the way his pinched and stern features finally, finally relax, a special, gentle type of carefreeness seeping through the permanent mask of trepidation irrevocably sown into his strong face. It’s beautiful, mesmerizing to watch as they morph, the way his lips transform before your very eyes, from a firm, thin line into a loose, easygoing grin, sharp eyes liquefying as his lids droop a little, thin ring of sapphire outlining gaping onyx pupils, voracious in the way they observe, inhale, devour everything, blown and massive from whatever he’s high on—E or coke or acid; possibly a mixture of all three. You aren’t allowed to have any, of course, but it’s okay.

It’s okay, because as cheesy and stupid as it sounds, you’re high off of him—off his smell, spicy cinnamon and sweet campfire, laced with just a hint of Marlboros; off his taste, mint and smoke and sugar; off his touch, large hands caressing the natural curves and contours of your body, calloused fingertips rough and ragged as they drag across your soft flesh, skin pebbling with each graze.

It’s intoxicating, the way it invades your senses, overwhelms your receptors and has you yearning for more. It’s dumbfounding, the way your mind goes numb with him, infused with thoughts of DabiDabiDabi as he seeps and soaks and stitches himself into the tissues of your brain.

And you’ve never seen him more content than he is here, high out of his mind and entirely absorbed in the music, embraced in it like it’s a protective blanket, like it’s the arms of an old, treasured friend, like it’s home. Bitter acid creeps up your throat, blends with his saccharine spit ever-present and saturating your tongue, the thought that he’s only truly, genuinely, substantially happy when he’s high off his ass at a festival procuring a muted, blunt ache in the middle of your chest, dull blades that dig and burrow into your beating heart, shoved a little deeper with each bubble of laughter that escapes his lips.

Nevertheless, you can’t ever bring yourself to put an end to it, no matter how much it hurts him, hurts you both, because he looks so lovely, so elated—and you just can’t bear to take that from him, to take that from yourself.

Because he’s so fucking pretty like this, hair undone, careless and free as fluffy tufts of black bounce and sway with his movements, sticking to his temples and his neck—and he almost looks soft like this, strands of onyx hanging in his eyes and curling around his ears. Because happiness looks so good on him, so gorgeous on him, with those bright smiles that span his face, across his cheeks from ear to ear, and those stunning sapphire irises that glow with pleasure, contentment, bliss—and you wish, wish so desperately that you got to see it more often, that you had the chance to experience it without the drugs steadily coursing through his system, that they weren’t necessary, mandatory, in manufacturing these emotions.

But you’ll take what you can get. And he will, too—because you both love watching, both love feeling him this ecstatic, this relaxed, all his anguish and trauma forgotten, those chains that shackle him, that weigh him down and confine him, disintegrated by the synthetic emotions, burnt to ash just for a night or two.

And so, you aid, you help, you enable—because while you’ll take what you can get, you can’t ever get enough, either, eyes wide and unblinking as they place a pretty pink tablet stamped with a heart on his tongue, entranced by the way his lips close around your fingers and suck. And it’s so fucking hot, a rush of warmth flooding between your thighs and furling tightly in your belly. His eyes are shining as he stares at you, stuffed full of so much love it nearly hurts, and you want, you want, you want.

It isn’t long before drug induced euphoria is rushing through his veins and colliding with the constant, steady bass oozing from the speakers, vibrations travelling through the grassy earth beneath him until they reach his feet and flood his body. He tells you he can feel it in his chest, in his heart, in his very soul, seeping into his bloodstream like the sweetest poison, forcing a pleasant buzz through his limbs.

And it’s the best—it’s better than anything he’s ever felt, anything you’ve ever felt, hands roaming across bodies as music pours from the mammoth speakers, tracing soft lines and hard edges, fingers committing them to memory through touch alone; foreheads knocking together as he giggles into your mouth, as you suck his laughter from him and let it bloom in your chest, bright and buzzing and full of him, so full you feel as though you may burst; tongues dragging against one another as you both lick either side of a heart-shaped lollipop, sticky crimson candy sparkling in the waning sunlight, before he pushes his gum into your mouth, endless huffs of amusement spilling from one throat into another as you pass it back and forth—a game of sorts—smiling into the messy, slippery kisses, lips sliding and slurping and sucking.

Colourful beads embellish his arms, slender wrists and sculpted forearms peaking through the gaps, plastic droplets smacking together delicately with his movements. The brilliant colours are vibrant in contrast to his smooth skin, ivory tainted gold by the August sun, to later be painted by the lively splotches of aquamarine and lilac and lime and fuchsia as the lights dance through the night sky, spraying across the crowd.

His body glistens under the setting sun, varnished in a thin layer of sweat, gleaming droplets decorating his skin, catching in the beams and glittering like tiny diamonds. Strands of inky hair cling to his neck and white cotton hugs his torso, outlining the firm muscles of his back, the plains and contours that glide almost gracefully under scarred skin and soft fabric with each of his movements.

He’s a horrible dancer; truly, but he makes you giggle—which makes him giggle, large hands finding your waist and tugging you towards him, forehead bowed to yours again as he stares at you, cavernous pupils flitting from each of your features—your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth—with his lips slightly parted, as if he’s in awe. Tiny thumbs run over his clammy cheekbones, and his eyes close briefly with the motion, body swaying a little as he leans into you, further pressing his forehead into yours. His molars are grinding again, you can feel it, the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his jaw under soft, tender palms, and you tsk softly.

“You need another lollipop, Daddy,” you tell him, and although you’re practically shouting over the music, it feels like your whispering, wisps of your adoring voice caressing his skin, curling around him and sopping into his flesh, warming him to the core of his soul. Little fingers are pressing into the hinges of his jaw as you speak, their gentle touch instantly diffusing the tension, and he nods.

The whine that catches in his throat when you pull away is one of the sweetest, most valuable sounds you’ve ever heard, and it makes your chest flutter, eyes flicking up to look at him through your lashes with a beaming smile. He’s still leaning towards you, slowly falling forward, a magnet drawn to magnetite, and you love it, you love it, you love it.

“You look so fucking cute in your tutu, princess,” he’s chuckling as you root through your tiny bag for more candy. And you can tell he really means it, a dopey smile decorating his face, eyes shimmering with mirth, with drugs, with love.

A giggle slips past your lips, hands smooth down the tufts of tulle adorning your waist as you shyly murmur your thanks, his own smile growing. Lidded sapphires float around your body, slow and belated as they take inventory, words unhurried and sluggish as they tumble from his mouth.

“I-I should…Uh, I should put some sunscreen on my baby, sh-shouldn’t I? Don’t want your shoulders or that pretty face of yers to burn, y’know,”

You really don’t need to—the sun’s sunk halfway below the horizon by now—but you indulge him anyway, would never be able to deny him a fucking thing.

It’s fumbling, clumsy and messy in his inebriated state, but it’s still so cute, so considerate, so caring, rough hands slathering the thick cream across your skin, rubbing in awkward, blundering circles—and it sends sizzling sparks shooting through your bloodstream, alighting your entire body with a blaze that is so specifically him.

The sky turns from coral to navy all at once, and then you’re clasping onto him tightly, hugging your body to his as hands roam, as fingers tangle and tug and tow, as lips latch and lick. Salt mixes with his usual taste, tongue tingling with it as it laps at the dips of his collarbones. The sharp smell of sugar stings your nose, and you inhale deeply, face nuzzling against his damp neck. He smells sweet, like sunshine and burning hickory wood, like a summer breeze grazing freshly washed linen, carrying with it a sprinkle of cinnamon.

And you can’t stop, powerless to your urges and void of all control as you nibble at the column of his throat, as you suck the prettiest galaxies of violet and periwinkle into his flesh, as the tip of your tongue traces the jutting bones at the base of his neck, over and over and over again until they’re saturated in thick layers of your gleaming spit.

Because he’s fucking delicious, and it’s never enough—will never be enough, regardless of if you spend hours kissing, until your lungs are burning and your jaw is aching and your mouths and chins and cheeks are coated in each other’s sticky saliva.

Because you’re fucking greedy, needy, hungry, limitless in how much you desire, more and more and more.

Because even when he’s pounding into you, it still isn’t ever enough. You want to consume him the way he consumes those pretty little tablets, want to breathe him in and hold him in your chest, in your heart, in your soul, forever. Not all of him, you promise, you swear, you’ll settle with just a piece—just a piece you can carry around everywhere with you, always. It’s the worst addiction you’ve ever suffered, it’s the sweetest heaven you’ve ever felt, it’s the only semblance of home you’ve ever known—you’ll keep chasing that high he gives you forever, keep chasing him as he chases drugs, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

And eventually, eventually it becomes too much to bear, just as it does every single night, this seething desire that roars and rumbles within you, rattling the cage of your ribs as it demands more. Eventually, it has you yanking on his arm, both hands clasped around one of his, shrill begs and pleads beginning to claw their way up your throat.

Strong hands manhandle you against him, a thick thigh slotting between your own, and you whimper, burying your face against his neck. With such a large crowd, and such thunderous music, and so many people higher than the clouds, no one can tell what you’re doing; no one can tell how naughty you’re being.

He knows exactly what you need, exactly what’s got you so restless, pressing his muscled thigh into your core and chuckling at the instant moan it procures.

“Daddy,” you mewl loudly against his ear, curled fingers giving another tug on his t-shirt, cunt already grinding steadily against his thigh. “I need you,”

He snickers, the sound vibrating against you, head tilting curiously and lips molding into a cocky smirk. “You need what, baby?”

And the whine that breaks in your chest is absolutely pathetic, bottom lip jutted out into a deep pout, grinding against his thigh becoming more erratic, more urgent. You hate that he’s gonna make you say it, face crumpled up in adorable irritation—his favourite expression on you, you’re sure, his smirk growing into a grin as a growl rumbles in your chest.

“Your cock,” shimmering eyes, glazed with want that reflects the flashing lights in their glassiness, stare up at him, blinking twice in enticement. “Please?”

He hums in thought as he pretends to think, to consider, as if his leg isn’t pressing further and further into your core as you aimlessly hump it, as if his cock isn’t already hard and pressed up against your hip and throbbing through his jeans, as if he isn’t grinding against you in infinitesimal motions, little gyrations of his hips that almost feel subconscious instead of intentional—as if he can’t help himself.

“Daddy!” you squeal, barely audible over the heavy bass, eyebrows scrunched in the way they always do when you don’t get what you want. “Now!”

Normally, if he wasn’t higher than the full moon hanging in the sky and flickering stars scattered in uneven clusters around it, such a bratty request would’ve earned you a hefty punishment—something that would’ve left your skin raw, cunt abused, and completely unsatisfied—because bad girls don’t get to cum, now, do they?

But tonight it only makes him laugh harder, cooing about how fucking cute you get when you’re all needy like this, like it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever witnessed, cobalt eyes shining with delight and adoration as he laces his fingers through yours, pulling you along behind him as he weaves in and out of the sea of bodies.

But the car’s too far, you’re whining as you trail behind him, a deep pout carved into your face, eyebrows knitted so firmly they weave creases into your forehead. I can’t wait, Daddy, I can’t wait!

And it’s true—you can’t wait any longer, you need him inside of you this very instant or you’ll fucking combust—a deprived addict vying for their favourite vice; a raving, ravenous fire that burns bright and blistering in the pit of your tummy, constantly starved for him.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, this intense, insatiable craving; one that has your thighs clenching so tightly it’s painful, that burns through your veins and scalds the insides of your stomach, that has your blood bubbling and nerves buzzing, whole body feeling electric in his presence.

It’s a gnawing urgency, one that tears at the pit of your belly and roars in your chest, filling your ribcage until it feels like it’s about to burst, until it has you choking on botched gasps of air and his name, nails digging into his hand as you tug on his arm, pleading, begging, needing.

It’s going to devour you from the inside out if you don’t get what you want soon, if it isn’t fed with what it wants soon, expletive filth spilling from your lips in frenzied little huffs as Dabi tries in vain to drag you to the car—please, Daddy, I feel like I’m gonna die, need your cock, Daddy, need it right now, right now, right now, fill me with your cum, Daddy, I’m so empty without it; warm me with your cum, Daddy, please, please, pretty please, I can’t wait!

Such sentiments, woven together between threads of high whines and broken gasps, evoke a dark snarl ripping through his chest, his true persona cutting through the manufactured euphoria for just a moment—and then you see him, you see your Daddy, you see your home, blazing in his glassy eyes as he whirls around on you and crashes his lips to yours, large hands splayed on either side of your face, nimble fingers gripping your head so tightly it hurts.

But the pressure is welcomed, little hands pawing at his thick belt again, pathetic and desirous, and the sheer force has you stumbling backwards, feet catching on your own ankles as the two of you tumble to the ground.

“You are such a fucking brat, y’know that?” he’s nearly moaning between kisses, lips never leaving yours as he spits the words into your mouth, hips snuggling into their favourite spot between your thighs.

“You love it,”

“A spoiled little bitch,”

“Y-Your fault,” you giggle into his mouth, a large palm colliding with your ass half a second later, knocking a yelp from your throat, a pitiful little squeak that he readily swallows down.

Calloused fingers twist in the lace of your panties and he yanks, holes materializing in the delicate fabric, lithe digits hooking through them and unceremoniously jerking the ruined remains down your thighs. It’s graceless, movements inept and cumbersome in his attempt to remove them from your body, stubbornly refusing to break your kiss, hovering body supported by one hand and his knees. The material finally snaps, fingers tearing through it, like fire blazing through intricate spider webs. A whine catches in your throat and he laughs darkly, tongue lapping at your neck, your jaw, your mouth itself, drenching you in sugar-infused saliva.

Lips part immediately, eagerly, ready to greet his tongue with your own, and he huffs another chuckle into you, breath scorching as it floods the cavern of your mouth, and God, he’s got himself such a good girl, such a good slut, doesn’t he?

The words are mumbled out, slick lips gliding against yours, a little slurred and stuffed full of sticky spit as massive, rough hands run up your thighs, grabbing healthy handfuls of your flesh and squeezing.

A sharp gasp escapes from your throat, hips instinctively bucking against his from the sudden pain, and he laughs, deep and sinister and reverberating against his ribcage.

You can feel the dull thud of the music in the distance, bass burrowing its way into your chest, pulsating beat slithering through the pliant earth and oozing up through the dirt against your back. Magnificent glows of azure and amethyst blanket the festival in their embrace, bleeding into one another before they morph into and emerald and magenta, haloing the grounds and all of its inhabitants.

But all of those colours, the almost ethereal beauty of the party itself, is nothing compared to the sapphire gazing down at you, the ivory skin that almost glows against the grass and the pines and the night sky, the fluffy onyx tufts your fingers tangle in.

Teeth sink into his plush, scarred bottom lip and you suck harshly, taking it into your mouth, the tip of your tongue toying with it, laving over the supple flesh and dousing it in your saliva. A snarl clatters around in his mouth as he pulls his lip from between yours, teeth scraping against it in the process.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you’re chanting, muffled by his mouth, muddled by his tongue as it aggressively pushes against yours. “Need’a, need’a,”

The words snag in your throat, evaporating into ghosts of the sentences they were supposed to be, fading into pathetically breathy moans.

And it’s hard to think, when you’re like this, when you’re ensnared in him, consumed by his touch and smell and taste, tongue shoved so far down your throat you’re choking on it, brain gone numb—dumb—from it all, incapable of knitting together words and forming a sentence. Instead, your hand snakes between your bodies to cup his cock, a loud moan hitching in his chest as he immediately grinds against your touch.

“Want,” you mumble, groping at him and forcing a whimper from his chest. “Now, now, now,”

“So fucking needy,” he’s teasing, none of his usually heat to his voice, peppered with moans and the sweetest giggles as he rests his forehead against yours. Reaching down, two slender fingers prod your hole, giggles fading into groans as his eyes shut. “Soaked, huh?” he asks, voice strained, your head nodding almost ferociously in response. “Always drenched for me, aren’t you, my babygirl,”

But you’re too impatient to be properly prepped, to be thoroughly stretched out, impetuous legs kicking and squirming from underneath him, whining and pleading for him to just fuck you already!

They’re uncontainable, the words barreling past your lips, high and cracked and rapacious as you beg—beg for him to fill you up, to make you feel whole again, to stretch and shred and slash you to pieces, to put you back together, part by painstaking part, to complete you.

And he’s practically keening at the sentiments, hips rutting ungracefully against your soft palm, cock twitching through the denim of his jeans.

“Alright, baby, alright,” he’s hushing you, words slurred, heavy and unhurried despite his frantic actions. “Daddy’ll give you what’ya need,”

“Wanna ride,” you nearly wail, little fingers clawing desperately at his broad shoulders, fingertips sinking into his flesh through the thin cotton.

“Ch-Christ,” he nearly chokes on the curse, head nodding in choppy movements as he allows you to push the two of you over.

Because, well, baby gets what baby wants.

Or, at least, that’s what he’s telling you as you straddle him, lilt void of its normal derision, replaced with a kind of admiration.

Nails dig into the toned, smooth planes of his chest as you sink down on him, an involuntary hiss escaping gritted teeth, features scrunching in a cute wince. A hitched expletive escapes his throat, lidded eyes falling shut as his head lolls to the side, angular jaw on display.

The stretch is a welcome one, feels like home, so familiar it’s almost comforting, little cunt throbbing as you split yourself open on his cock.

Cool, refreshing air rushes into your lungs the moment he bottoms out, cockhead pressed snugly against your cervix, and that ache, that addiction, that animal tethered to the very core of your soul is immediately satiated, immense pressure deflating and the strain on your ribs easing up.

It feels perfect, feels right, feels whole, and suddenly, you’re alive again, intense sparks shocking your system as they sear through your veins, invigorated and revitalized.

It doesn’t last long though—it never does.

Because you’re just as famished, just as voracious, just as avid as that entity birthed from obsession and addiction inside of you, satisfied only for a moment before you need more.

It isn’t slow, isn’t sweet or soft, because neither of you can take that right now, neither of you need that right now. And the very moment he bottoms out, the minute you feel him nudging against your cervix, your hips begin to rock forward, rough hands finding their usual place on your hips, aiding you in your motions as he bucks up, falling into an instantaneous rhythm together

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he’s panting out, bleary eyes watching you as his words knot on his languid tongue. “Bounce on m’cock, princess, bounce on it,”

The earth is firm beneath your knees, but you can still feel those faint vibrations travelling though the dirt. Blades of grass tangle themselves in inky tufts as his head falls back, neck arching, jade strands in a sea of black.

He’s so much louder when he’s this high, deep guttural groans rumbling in his chest, broken whines catching in his throat, growled out curses tumbling from his saliva slicked lips. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth, dribbling down his chin, and you long to lick it up.

“You always look so pretty, s-so perfect taking my cock,” he’s babbling, voice soaked in awe, pupils blown and shimmering as they gobble up your reactions, your expressions—every little sound emitted from your throat, ripped raw and wrecked from the column; every little twitch of your features, the way your lashes flutter and eyes roll back with each roll of his hips; every little shake and shiver and shudder, tiny jolts of electricity, of him, exploding through your veins—calloused hands sliding up and down your thighs in a clumsy caress. “F-Fuck, princess, so gorgeous,”

You should be quiet—really, you should both be quiet, fucking in an open field and committing such a heinous act of public indecency.

But you’re powerless to stop the mewls and cries from prying past your lips, and he’s hopeless to quell the steady stream of words flowing from his own, increasing in pitch and frequency with each gyrate forward, with each rut and rub and grind of your hips.

“Feel good, Da-Daddy?”

And he’ll never understand how you sound so fucking sweet, so fucking precious, as obscene words flow from those pretty lips, punched out of your chest with each rock of your hips, core of your body intimately skewered by him.

He doesn’t answer, can’t answer, words dissolving into a fractured moan as he nods vigorously.

“Want you to cum, D-Daddy—ah—fill me up, please,”

The grin that splits his face is nothing short of spectacular—it’s nothing like those sharp smiles he gives his enemies, or those smug little grins he gifts his friends, or those tiny lopsided smirks that grace his lips when he’s teasing. No, this smile—this smile is only for you; a gentle quirk of his lips, parted just enough to see those gleaming pearly teeth, fluid as it stretches and wobbles with his ragged pants and snapping hips. It’s almost overwhelming, the emotion pouring from that single, simple action alone, has your chest stuttering and eyes blurring, knowing that this is something special, that this is something that is yours and yours alone. And this smile—this smile is genuine, true happiness. This smile cuts through all of the drugs and anguish and rage, shining bright and beautiful as it beams up at you.

He’s walking art, talking art, living, breathing, feeling art—and he’s all yours.

You’ll never get used to this, you swear to God. Such amazement will never cease, makes fucking him a religious experience every single time, always so astoundingly exquisite. You’ll never get used to the way those dark growls claw their way up his throat, vibrating in the column. You’ll never get used to the way your name sounds on his tongue when he’s just about to cum, all pitchy and broken and punctured by hitched breaths. You’ll never get used to the way his thick eyelashes flutter, unfocused eyes rolling in his skull just a little—never fully enough to hide that brilliant sapphire from you—right before he stuffs you full of hot sticky seed.

And you never want to.

—

This is your favourite part, has always been your favourite part, will always be your favourite part, every single time. It’s terribly selfish of you—you know it is, know it’s awful and greedy and so, so obsessive—but you love it, love it as much as he loves the drugs and the music and the ostentatious lights.

Because he clings to you when he’s coming down, nuzzles his face into your very touch, practically purrs out his admiration for you as you pat his damp face down with an old t-shirt, brushing back the stringy strands of sweat-drenched hair from his forehead.

Because you’re his protection when he’s coming down, swathing him in your love, in your gentle caresses and your tender venerations—his very own guardian angel, keeping him from plummeting into the concrete and shattering into a million pieces, cradling him in your soft wings as you ease his feet back onto this earth.

Usually it’s scary, he’s telling you that night in the backseat of his car, eyes still glazed, breathing slow and shallow. Or, it was. It was scary, coming down without you—but not anymore. Because you’re here now. You’re here with him, and you take such good care of him, and he loves you, he loves you so much, he loves you more than anything on this planet—or any others.

He used to feel nervous, he’s babbling on as tiny fingers press into tight, coiled muscles, rubbing the tension out of them in small circles. Used to have memories… he trails off then, and you don’t push, never push, just humming your acknowledgement softly, whispered affirmations falling from your lips as palms smooth over his cheeks before caressing his hair, pulling mewls from his throat as he arches into your touch.

Bleary sapphires stare up at you, glittering in the dim light flittering through his car windows from the flickering lamp posts. He’s tired, he tells you suddenly, face somber, sober, but he can’t sleep.

“I know,” you murmur, petting his hair again. “Just try to relax,”

He is trying, he promises, vigorously nodding up at you, eyes wide as if they’re imploring you to understand.

But words keep spilling from his mouth—involuntary, automatic, reflexive—unfocused eyes staring up at the roof, then darting around the car slowly, distractedly, like there’s a million other thoughts surging through his mind—you can see them, swimming in his eyes, tainted with paranoia, with fear, even though there’s a steady stream of presumably unrelated words flowing from his throat.

He talks about anything, everything, nothing—all at once. He tells you about the festival as if you weren’t there, and you let him ramble, unable to stifle the small smile that forms on your lips. Because it’s cute, and he’s still so excited. He tells you how pretty you look, tells you about how good you ride his cock, how irresistible your cunt is, how much he loves stuffing it with his cum.

And throughout it all you nod and hum and coo, just like you always do, just like you always will.

And it’s nights such as these, at four and five in the morning right before the sun begins to creep over the horizon, navy sky fading into a faint amber glow the only indication that it’s coming—that you are careless with your words, that you are more honest than ever before, because you know he won’t remember it—or, if he does, he won’t bring it up until he’s high like this again.

Because his being high provides this limbo, this purgatory for the both of you to be open and raw and vulnerable under the guise of drugs, with the knowledge that you can always backtrack, always claim not to remember or that you said no such thing, if you ever need to.

You don’t ever need to, but the option’s there nonetheless, like a buffer of sorts—a buffer for him to be raw and real, a buffer for you to be less cautious, to be more reckless and let the words stream from your lips without fear of consequence or punishment; a shield for both of you to use against such susceptibility.

It’s become an unspoken agreement between the two of you, a pass. And that’s what makes these nights the best.

And you will always consider yourself one of the lucky ones, one of the privileged few that are allowed, permitted, approved to experience him like this—to watch that well-worn mask of apathy melt from his face as drug-laced happiness bleeds and burns through it.

It hurts, sends sharp spears searing through your chest, embedding themselves in the depths of your fucking soul, because you can only imagine what true happiness would look like on him.

Maybe it would be too much, you want to trick yourself into believing, desperate to find excuses for the drugs and the artificial euphoria, to sanction this type of behaviour. Maybe he would be too beautiful, too bright, too brilliant if he were truly happy—maybe he would burn out too quickly, if he were too happy, like a shooting star that flies across the indigo sky, sparkling and sizzling and stark in it’s stunning, gorgeous and ethereal and much too short lived as it fizzles out into nothing, into darkness and emptiness, only a moment later—gone forever.

And you suppose, if that were to be the case, that you could selfishly accept this fate—if only to keep him here with you for just a little bit longer. You could help him shoulder the crushing weight of that torture, that agony, that suffering that he’s constantly carrying, spine straining under it, if it means that you get to be with him for more, for longer, for eternity. You could handle that, if it means you get to be greedy, if it means that you get to have him, on this earth, living and breathing and beside you.

Still, you hope, very much so, deep down at the bottom of your heart, that he will one day find that true, genuine, sincere happiness that he deserves—and that it will stick, not just for a moment, for a few fleeting seconds, but for a while, for forever.

He’s quiet when you tell him this. He probably won’t remember it come morning, too high to remember much of anything, but he’s so honest when he’s like this, fucked up out of his mind, and words leak from his lips without his permission as he tells you, grave and serious, that he has…in you.

And you suppose…You suppose he’s right; happiness isn’t exactly a person, or a place, or an object—happiness is a sentiment, an experience, a collection of memories, adventures, evocations.

“Happiness is...it’s when I’m with you,”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #bnha smut #todoroki touya #todoroki touya x reader #waaaAAAAAAAAH #ever so slightly nerve-wracking hahaha #this is EXTREMELY sentimental you have been WARNED #it's also supposed to feel almost suffocating or overwhelming #bcoz ur reader yk #okay ANYWAY ENJOY #tw drugs #tw toxic relationship #tw daddy kink

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Danger: Onyx |1| - JUYEON

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 5.1k

Lesson 6: when all seems lost, do not falter. Just because it seems hopeless does not mean it is.

Previous: Ruby >> Onyx: Part 1 | Part 2 >> Next: Crown

TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom

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The meeting room is abnormally quiet when Somin enters. It could be due to the newly empty seat on the right side of the long table, but not even a whisper hangs on the lips of the remaining mages.

Somin’s mouth doesn’t even curl at their submission. As much as she would like not to show it, the failures of the man who used to sit on that empty seat affected her. Not because she felt particularly fond of him – though she will admit she was sad to see High Mage Jung’s disgrace and demotion, or simply Mage Jung now – but because it left her with a one less competent head at her table.

At the head of the room, she turns, eyes roving over the heads bowed in respect (or is it fear? Pawns and kings, does it even matter?). Her lips curl, but not in joy. In disgust.

One gave her a plan that fell to pieces. Another let a powerful Onyx mage escape from his clutches. Three more on three separate occasions were unable to track and capture the thieves running around and stealing her jewels, with one of them lacking the wits to save her compatriot from the knife of that dratted prince. And when Somin finds out who let it slip that the ruby was to be held at the gray mage’s shrine…

The loss of one semi-intelligent mind means much in this room full of bumbling idiots.

Somin takes a deep breath. High Mage Jung was not infallible either. He failed to anticipate the revolt of the prisoners entrusted under his care, failed to prevent the theft of one of the last three jewels. All because he was sleeping.

She allows a slight smirk to cross her lips. His mistakes will not go unpunished, at least. One of his daughters already awaits retribution for her father under this very palace.

“Sit,” Somin says, purposely embedding the single word with ice.

Everyone sits. Somin does, too, smoothing her full skirts under the table as she tries to hide hands that shake with anger. “It has come to my attention,” she snarls, voice dripping acid, “that this is a room full of failures.”

Several mages flinch. The others remain still, even Lee Minho, who stares at the wooden surface in front of him as though it will give him the answers to the world.

At least Somin can count on his silence, now. Much better than his inability to shut up from before.

“You are lucky that I have a brain as well,” she hisses. “I do wonder what they teach you as mages, if not a single one of you could put together a plan that would not fail on every single level. Even without your specialized training, between dividing my troops and evading Onyx attack, I was able to come up with a plan to lure that insufferable band of jewel thieves into the open.”

Silence.

Somin tuts. “None of you will ask your queen what she intends to do?”

Bom clears her throat quietly. Her stomach wound has long healed, but she still hunches over the table like it never went away. “What is your plan, Your Majesty?”

Such a good puppet. Somin almost wants to pat her head, despite the fact that the mage is at least ten years her senior. This is why Bom sits at her table. It is a table meant for those more powerful than she, but Somin needs someone blindly loyal to her cause to remain close by, no matter how dull-witted.

“We are winning the war,” she starts, allowing a slight smile to curve her lips. “This gives me leave to bring some of our generals back to the capital for, ah, a respite of sorts. I’m sure many are eager to pledge themselves to the new queen and her king, just as all of you were.”

Mouths tighten. Faces whiten. Somin represses a smirk. A gentle reminder of what she holds over their heads never hurts. “I will host a competition of dual blades,” she announces. “It is an art widely practiced among the noble and royal classes, even in some of the common pawn circles. Anyone will be free to join, and the winner will receive the onyx stone as a gift. Spoils of war.” Her smile widens. “Who could resist?”

Minho’s eyes shift from the table to her. “You believe the Onyx prince will fall for this obvious trap?”

Somin returns his gaze. “You believe he won’t?” She laughs. “The prince needs this stone. Even if he has the other four, he has no way of completing the crown unless he somehow takes this one too. He may realize it is a trap, but what other choice does he have?”

Mage Choi Jinhee, at the end of the table, raises her head. “Will you use the real stone?”

A sigh leaves Somin’s lips. Does she really need to spell everything out for them? “No,” she snaps. Her gaze turns to a certain cat-eyed mage, whose mouth thins into a line. “The real stone will be left with the crown in a place no one can access but I.” She sneers. “Need I remind you of what happened last time I listened to such foolish advice?”

Jinhee falls silent, but Minho opens his mouth. Somin curses internally. “The prince is of the Onyx bloodline,” he says, bravely (or foolishly – she’s more inclined to believe that) meeting her stare. “He will sense whether or not the jewel is real. And if it is true that a mage travels with them –”

“Which is why it will only be revealed on the last day of competition, when the winner has fought their way to the finish,” she cuts him off. “No one will see it before then, so no one will know it is fake. The prince will fight until that day, at which point he will be arrested in front of all spectators so they can see just who has managed to trespass into our kingdom during a time of war.”

“How are you so sure the prince will make it to the last day?” Minho challenges.

Somin actually laughs at that. “Have you ever watched the Onyx prince at swordplay?”

A shake of the head. Somin’s smile turns into a smirk. “I have.” She leans forward, staring Minho in the eye. “When I tell you he is skilled, I do not lie. He was taught by Wang throughout his adolescence, and he specialized in it when he underwent his knight training.” Her smirk deepens. “I will not make the mistake of underestimating him.”

Minho’s lips twitch. Somin can’t tell if it’s a result of annoyance or a smirk, and that frustrates her. “It is sometimes just as crucial not to overestimate an opponent, Your Majesty.”

Somin scoffs. “I do not overestimate him,” she snaps. “If he loses early on, we will only arrest him earlier. Perhaps it will not draw the crowds I would have liked, but as long as he is executed the next day and leaves the Onyx Kingdom without an heir to the king’s crown, it does not matter.”

No one argues with that. Silence falls over the room once more.

A smirk creeps up Somin’s lips, and this time, she allows it to show. “Now, then.” She leans forward. “Who will be tasked with creating the fake?”

. . . . .

Juyeon isn’t stupid. A contest in swordplay offering the last crown jewel as the winner’s prize can’t be anything but an obvious trap.

Personally, he feels slightly offended. Does Somin really think he’s that dumb? He might not be Jisoo with her mind for battle tactics and foreign affairs, but Juyeon has a brain that he often utilizes well, despite what Kevin sometimes likes to say.

(No matter what the amethyst heir says, Juyeon will maintain that cutting himself on a rose bush is far less stupid than setting an entire hill on fire. At least his wounds were healed. As far as he knows, half of that hill is still blackened.)

But the longer he looks at the poster Jacob brought back from the town square, the more it becomes obvious just how well-wrought this trap is. It may be obvious, yes, but more likely than not, Somin’s accounted for this. She has rarely been one to underestimate her enemies, after all. Which means that she expects him to come, knowing it’s a ploy to catch him.

Juyeon swears, throwing the poster to the ground. Of course he’ll come. Of course he will. He may have four of the crown jewels, but he needs the last one. The other four mean nothing if he can’t complete the crown.

So he has to join this contest.

He looks at Jacob and Kevin, both of whom stare at the piece of paper on the dusty ground with similarly grim expressions. Looking at them, a familiar sensation of unease grows in his mind, a tingling suspicion that someone is missing.

Which is impossible. Yes, Sunwoo left a hole in the group that can’t be filled, not even by Jacob, but this feeling is something different from the grief that still grips his heart every time he remembers the death. And then he inevitably remembers knives ripping through flesh, blood pooling on the ground, watching the life drain out of Mage Han’s eyes next to Sunwoo’s already blank expression –

Enough. Juyeon pulls himself out of his thoughts before he can spiral. This feeling isn’t the same as that of Sunwoo’s absence. It’s more like someone or multiple people are supposed to be here, helping him, which makes no sense. Hwanwoong and the others never could have stayed, and Juyeon certainly wasn’t going to drag High Mage Jung along. Jacob might really have committed murder then.

So no one can be missing. No one.

But ever since Juyeon woke up, thorn wounds completely healed after a dream of ruby roses and pain, he knows someone is. And he’s pretty sure he knows who – the shade who healed him, whose face he almost saw but didn’t because his body decided to wake up right then and there.

Which doesn’t make any castles-damned sense.

“Someone has to go.” Kevin’s voice breaks Juyeon out of his thoughts, brings him back to the present problems that have nothing to do with unnamed shades and roses. “And Juyeon’s the best at swordplay. Especially dual blades.”

Juyeon winces. It’s true, he can handle a sword and a dagger extremely well. He just much prefers the stability of a single one.

Besides, dual blades are an Ivory citizen’s weapon of choice. Normally this wouldn’t pose problems – royalty of both kingdoms, especially those who take the knight’s oath, often learn to wield multiple types of weapons – but even wearing white makes Juyeon want to crawl out of his skin, now. Using an Ivory weapon instead of his own?

A grimace crosses his face that he can’t shove away.

“It could be a fake,” Jacob interjects. “In fact, it probably is – why would Somin use the real stone, especially when we already have the other four?”

“Even if it’s a fake, we could get something from it,” Kevin argues. “Traces of magic, maybe. A mage would have had to create it, so couldn’t we track the traces again?”

Jacob frowns. “That took so long last time, though.” He sighs. “I’m not saying we have other choices. But if we could figure out something else…?”

Juyeon shakes his head. “I don’t think there’s another option.” His mouth thins as he presses his lips together. “She wants me to come, that much is obvious. Somin watched me practice when she used to visit the kingdom. She’ll expect me to get to the end of the contest, even against other highly-trained soldiers and generals.”

“You could just be being pig-headed and arrogant,” Kevin says, lips raised in a teasing half-smile. “What if she doesn’t actually think you’ll make it, huh? You have that much faith in your abilities?”

“You –” Juyeon punches Kevin in the arm, unable to force back the smile growing on his face. “You’re one to talk. Didn’t Wang call you one of the most pathetic students he’d ever had?”

Kevin sniffs. “I throw knives better than you ever will.”

“Are you two done puffing your chests around?” Jacob interrupts, cutting Juyeon off from arguing further (which he really couldn’t, anyway – Kevin has the best aim of anyone he’s ever met). He’s smiling too, though, and a wave of gratitude washes over Juyeon at Kevin’s ability to lighten up the mood. But the smile slowly disappears as he opens his mouth again. “Juyeon, if you’re going to do this, you can’t show up with your face on display. Attending the contest is bad enough, but parading around in the open is even worse.”

“Dust masks.” Juyeon turns to Kevin. “Can you make something that’ll hide my face well enough?”

He nods. “Just give me a day, I’ll have it ready. In the meantime, you need to somehow find a pair of dual blades to practice with.”

Well, that’s an issue. Juyeon’s just about to frown when Jacob points to a few lines on the poster he hadn’t read yet. “Blades will be provided so no contestant has an unfair advantage.”

Relief, then anxiety fill Juyeon’s chest. “Which means I’ll have to make another appearance to sign up for this and pick out my size.”

Kevin’s lips thin. “Show up first while wearing the mask. It’s all you can do.”

“And if someone asks?”

“Then say the roads are too dusty.” Jacob coughs. “Which they are.”

It’s a bad plan, not well thought out and far from foolproof, but if worst comes to worst, Juyeon has long legs and knows the capital well enough to get around and maybe hide.

“Well.” Juyeon sighs. “Anything’s better than setting a hill on fire.”

“Queens,” Jacob mutters. “We really need to stop using that as a baseline to judge our bad plans.”

. . . . .

Kevin follows Juyeon to competition registration. It isn’t too hard to stay inconspicuous among the masks most people are wearing, but Kevin keeps his head lowered and gaze alert all the same. It wouldn’t do for anyone to catch them before Juyeon even enters his first swordfight.

But it’s hard when dust keeps flying into his face with every step he takes. Even when he deliberately tries to place his foot down with as little force as possible, it floats into the air with a deceptive grace that itches his nose and makes tears spring in his eyes.

Queens, it was never this bad all the other times Kevin visited, and he’s traveled here a lot over the past few years. Under the previous queen, the roads, though still dusty – it’s inevitable, especially in the dryer months – were much cleaner.

It’s not just that. Even here, in the square, the usual bustle of chatter and cheer sounds so much more subdued than he remembers. When he was younger, he and Changmin and Juyeon would come here on their visits to wreak as much havoc as their tiny bodies could handle. They’d get caught, eventually, but people were always up for a joke or a prank.

Now, though there’s still noise, the level is nowhere near where it used to be. Everyone’s face looks drawn, taut, a little wary, even, as they exchange coins and goods.

An unpleasant tingle runs down Kevin’s back. The current queen is probably too focused on the war at hand to care for her citizens. A scowl crosses his face as he thinks of Somin sitting high and mighty in her palace or wherever she is, directing people to do the dirty work for her.

One of his angry feet kicks a cloud of dust into the air. Kevin starts coughing again. Pawns and kings, it couldn’t get much worse than this, could it?

Just ahead, Juyeon approaches a large white building. Kevin stops where he is, standing idly by a small store as Juyeon flashes him a look that he returns. He disappears into the doors.

Now all there is to do is wait.

Heart in his throat, Kevin does his best to look casual as he lingers in the town square, vaguely gazing at several of the stalls as he tries not to catch anyone’s attention. No meeting eyes, no staring, no looking interested –

“Excuse me?”

Castling queens.

Kevin braces himself, expecting some random Ivory citizen to maybe ask him why he’s loitering around without buying anything. An excuse pops readily onto his tongue as he turns, a slight, wary smile on his face to mimic those of the others prattling around the square –

In the name of the Board and all that is holy –

It takes all of Kevin’s effort not to widen his eyes, not to curse, not to show anything in the face of Lee Jaehyun, a boy he once used to know, a boy he used to play around with on his visits to the Ivory Kingdom. As they grew older and took on different duties, they saw each other less – in fact, the last time they talked was probably a couple years ago – but there’s no mistaking it. This is Lee Jaehyun, the youngest general of the ivory army, knighted when he was just sixteen.

Juyeon himself wasn’t knighted until seventeen, and he’s one of the best fighters Kevin knows. If Jaehyun is here…

Smile. Breathe. Change your voice. Kevin prays the disinterested expression on his face from before hasn’t left as he looks at Jaehyun with veiled curiosity, heart pounding. Thank all the higher orders that he’s wearing a mask. “Yes?”

“You just seemed a little lost.” Jaehyun smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Is it just Kevin’s paranoia, or does he look suspicious? “I wondered if you needed directions somewhere.”

A brief laugh forces itself out of Kevin’s throat, stilted and deep and nothing like his normal snorts and giggles. Good – even less chance of Jaehyun recognizing him. “I don’t, but thank you.” He jerks his head toward the registration building. “Just waiting for a friend.”

Jaehyun nods. “Not signing up yourself, then?”

“Oh, no.” This time, Kevin doesn’t need to lie. “I don’t have the skill to compete against generals of the kingdom.” He cocks his head, feigning interest. “Are you?”

The smile on Jaehyun’s unmasked face tightens, but he nods. “Yes, I am.” He laughs, short and forced. “Who wouldn’t want the glory?”

“Glory,” Kevin repeats, trying to decipher the unreadable look Jaehyun wears. “Is that what matters, then?”

His tone must have been more accusatory than he meant, because Jaehyun’s eyes narrow slightly. Kevin curses internally, about to backtrack, but Jaehyun has already opened his mouth to speak again. “To some,” he says, pose deceivingly relaxed. “Why? What do you think matters more?”

Kevin’s heart is ready to pound out of his chest with anxiety. Sweat beads on his forehead and under his ivory dust mask as his mind races for a neutral answer. Jaehyun just waits, face impassive.

“Care,” he finally replies. “If I had someone under my care, I would put them before anything else, even glory.”

It’s true. He doesn’t need to lie about how he feels about Jacob. About Juyeon.

About Sunwoo.

Pain stabs his chest, pain that he does his best not to show as Jaehyun nods appraisingly. “I agree,” he says, surprisingly. “We are lucky to have a king who cares for us in the way you describe.”

Kevin tries not to raise his eyebrows too high at Jaehyun’s choice of words. King. Not queen.

Does this mean Jaehyun doesn’t care for the queen, either?

It could be. Jaehyun never exactly wanted to play with Somin when they were kids, even though he regularly got into shenanigans with the former queen. Even though she’s ascended the throne, it’s possible that the feelings remained.

With that, it crosses Kevin’s mind to reveal himself and enlist Jaehyun as an ally. But there’s too much to risk with that. They’re so close to completing the crown, so close – they can’t afford a single mistake. Besides, Kevin only has guesses to go by. He doesn’t know anything concrete about Jaehyun that’s recent enough to mean anything.

And also, Juyeon’s just exited the building, two new blades in hand. There’s no time.

“There seems to be a line forming,” Kevin remarks idly. “You should probably take your place before you’re here all morning.”

Jaehyun glances back, almost uninterested, before nodding. “Probably.” He sighs. “Well, it was nice meeting you…”

Queens. Kevin needs to think of a name. “Jihoon,” he spits out, wincing internally at how similar it is to Juyeon’s fake name (seriously, Jiyoon and Jihoon? Come on, Kevin), but it’s too late to retract it because Jaehyun’s already nodding.

“Jihoon.” Jaehyun smiles. “I’m Jaehyun.”

I know.

Kevin doesn’t say that, though, just returns the nod. “Good luck, Jaehyun.”

He means it. Because though Jaehyun might be good, Juyeon has skill, too. And he has something else that Jaehyun doesn’t.

Desperation.

And as horrible a feeling it is to have, Kevin knows with a grim certainty that Juyeon’s going to need to channel as much of it as he can.

. . . . .

When Juyeon learns the Lee Jaehyun is going to be competing in this tournament, he almost wants to give up right then and there. He may be good, but Jaehyun is a prodigy. There’s a reason why he was knighted so early and rose through the army ranks so quickly. His participation basically cuts Juyeon’s chances of winning in half.

Never mind that his chances already weren’t very high.

And then there’s the fact that Jaehyun spoke with Kevin, singled him out of an entire town square as someone to talk to. Though Kevin says he’s pretty sure Jaehyun didn’t recognize him or he probably would’ve said something, Juyeon can’t shake it off that easily. Jaehyun’s smart. He isn’t a general for nothing. If he talked to Kevin, he suspected something. Why else would he give up his position in line for a chat?

A cursory scan of the day’s duels brings Juyeon slight relief. He isn’t fighting against Jaehyun – in fact, he’s in a completely different bracket – which means that he might just make it to the last day if no one catches him. Might.

And then he’ll have to fight Jaehyun, or whoever managed to beat Jaehyun. Though to be honest, if there’s someone else at the top, Juyeon might back out right then and there. Jaehyun is that good.

But if it’s Jaehyun he ends up fighting, there’s a much higher chance of recognition. Which is also not good.

Taking a shaky breath, Juyeon readjusts the dust mask covering his face, trying to drown out the noises of the growing crowd as he steps into the arena. Kevin’s talented fingers have come into play again for the simple piece of cloth, sewing it tight enough around his mouth and nose that it won’t come loose while giving him enough air to breathe. If no one looks too closely, they won’t root him out.

Hopefully.

Juyeon breathes in. Breathes out. Dust swirls around his feet as he walks forward to meet his opponent. Already he’s forgotten the name – it wasn’t anybody he recognized, he remembers that much – and from the stuttering gaze on the boy’s face, he gathers that it won’t be too difficult to beat him this round.

He’s right. The boy – whatever his name is – has some skill but not enough, not the type that Juyeon’s honed over years of training in multiple forms of swordplay. Within minutes, he disarms his opponent, two blades thudding to the dusty ground, and his sword rises to rest against his throat.

Cheers rise as Juyeon lowers his arm, accepting the boy’s hand in a firm shake. Vaguely, he hears his fake name being announced as the winner, but already he’s slipping into one of the tents, exiting as fast as he can, then disappearing into the crowd, unnoticed.

He doesn’t find Kevin or Jacob. They said they’d be here but didn’t tell Juyeon where for fear of accidentally giving them away with a stray glance. Instead, he finds a relatively empty space at the junction between two streets, sits down, and closes his eyes to rest.

The afternoon passes in the same manner, then the next day. Juyeon almost loses his fourth set – he doesn’t recognize the move his opponent uses and it throws him off-kilter when he loses his dagger – but in the end, he manages to flip both blades out of the other’s hand with a wild sweep of his sword that sends the audience into a frenzy. Stonily, he ignores his opponent’s glare and the way she tries to crush his hand with her grip, though his heart pounds for hours after.

Two days gone. One day left.

The third afternoon, Kevin sends him off with a face whiter than usual, fingers trembling at his sides. Jacob doesn’t look much better, huddled into his red cloak as he wishes Juyeon luck. Both put on a brave face, trying to smile as Juyeon slides the blades into his belt, but their worry is obvious.

He can’t blame them. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest. Because today, Juyeon’s going to be in the most danger he’s been throughout his two short weeks in the capital.

The crowds will be bigger than ever. There’s a far smaller chance of Kevin and Jacob being able to whisk him out of a tight situation. Somin herself will preside over the final duel as he fights beneath her throne. Well, not her throne because that’s a huge piece of white marble and ivory that can’t easily be carried out of the palace, but she’ll be there.

And to top things off…

A familiar figure stands in the center of the arena, blades already drawn. Even from this distance, confidence radiates from his body, from the slight smile on his face and the easy way he holds his weapons.

Juyeon swallows.

He’s fighting Lee Jaehyun.

. . . . .

Anxiety can’t even begin to cover how Jacob feels as he watches Juyeon enter the arena. Shouts, alternate cheers and boos, follow his footsteps forward into the center of the large, dusty plain.

Jacob doesn’t join in. Neither does Kevin. They only watch silently from a far edge of the crowds, fists clenched so tightly that his nails start biting crescents into his palms.

Pawns and kings. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. If he feels this anxious, how must Juyeon feel, standing under watch of his biggest enemy, facing one of the best (or possibly the best) swordsmen in the two kingdoms, knowing there’s a very sizable chance that someone will either root him out or he’ll simply lose?

Juyeon doesn’t seem to show any worry or anxiety as he tosses his sheaths away, but maybe that’s just because Jacob is so far away. He wishes he was closer, but in the event of things gone awry, he and Kevin need to be able to escape as fast as possible.

If he was alone, standing closer might be an option. He doesn’t need a door just to shift on his own. But with Kevin here, he does.

And he can’t exactly create a door in the middle of a crowd.

A horn sounds. Jacob’s head jerks up.

Kevin’s hand finds his as the first crash of metal rings through the air.

They fight fast. All Jacob can see are flashes of silver, the afternoon sun glinting off the blades and nearly blinding him several times. Two blurred figures weave in and out of each other, barely distinguishable from this far away, and try as Jacob might to pay attention, sometimes he loses sight of Juyeon’s dark hair in the clouds of dust that whirl up from their feet.

Blades clash. Cheers sound. Jacob can barely hear anything over the roar of blood in his ears, can barely feel a thing besides Kevin’s hand clenching his in a death grip. Vaguely, as Jaehyun nearly lands a hit on Juyeon, who just manages to spin away, Jacob wonders if his blood will still be circulating in his fingers by the time this match is over.

One strike blocked, a feint parried, another slash dodged. The duel drags on and on – Kevin mutters something about sundown coming before it’s over and Jacob almost laughs, hysterical and wild with all the adrenaline coursing through his veins – and then –

Juyeon knocks the sword out of Jaehyun’s hand, sending it flying high into the air.

A scream builds in Jacob’s throat as Kevin lets out a pained wheeze. Maybe, just maybe, Jacob thinks, Juyeon has a chance to win this. Castling queens, he needs to –

But Jaehyun catches the blade.

He catches it.

Jacob nearly falls over entirely as the general resumes the fight, barely looking like he’s broken a sweat. Juyeon stumbles and Jacob almost releases his previous scream. He manages to regain his balance, though Jacob can tell even from here that Juyeon’s shaken.

Who wouldn’t be, after all? No one could blame Juyeon after that sort of stunt.

But he can’t afford to be shaken. He needs to move, to fight, to win this for the stupid onyx stone that’s probably a fake anyway because they need all the information they can get, even if it means putting the Onyx prince himself in a direct line of danger –

The dagger falls out of Juyeon’s hand. Jaehyun kicks it, sending the blade skittering across the arena.

Kevin’s nails begin cutting into Jacob’s skin.

Juyeon continues the fight. He’s already fought and won against another girl who managed to disarm his dagger hand, Jacob knows, so there’s a chance, a tiny chance that he could still make this. As sweat stings his open eyes, he prays, he prays to every higher order of the two kingdoms, pawns and kings, please let Juyeon win this –

But Jaehyun isn’t the girl from before. And with the first trip, the first tiny stumble over a stone or a rut in the ground, the general flips the sword out of Juyeon’s hand. It falls to the ground in a cloud of dust.

The tip of a blade inserts itself under Juyeon’s chin.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for juyeon he needs it)

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pettyprocrastination · 4 years

Text

An Ode to Black Lipstick Spencer Reid x Goth!POC!Reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer assigns certain memories and people to certain lipstick colors. Black will always have a special place in his heart. (Also known as Spencer Reid is a sub and love his goth gf very much.) Also Black Goth girls own my heart and my ass and that’s on God.

Spencer never liked lipstick much.

Then again, he never had experienced it.

Maeve never wore lipstick. She preferred chap-stick. Simple but reliable, coconut flavored. A sensation he never got the chance to experience. Lilya used lip-gloss. Shiny, captivating, but waxy and slick like an adhesive. Luring you in until you learn the feeling you were longing for was uncomfortable. Pretty to look at and admire, but not one he wanted for himself.

He didn’t enjoy pink lipstick, it reminded him of the girls he went to school with. Pretty pink lips curled into condescending smiles as they pretended to be his friend. Those bubblegum grins would turn into mouths open wide with laughter when the jokes would turn cruel and physical on him. His face flushed with shame, as pink as their rose smiles.

Red made him anxious.

It reminded him of the crimson blood spilled across the victims. Women who’s ruby red lips had giggled at the smooth words spoken to them in the darkened corner of a club by a man they didn’t know. Those red lips opening wide to scream for help before a hand is clamped over their mouth, smearing the lipstick she had applied so delicately earlier that day in hopes of attracting someone.

Red lipstick not only reminded him of the victims but also of those who caused their pain. Women whose lips are painted a deep crimson as a lure, a hook so confidently thrown into the water that draws in so many fish. Those lips curl into a sultry smile. As they lead their prey to their home with promises whispered in a breathy moan. That coy crimson quirk of her lips would grow into a sick grin when she saw the red drain from her victim like a trickling river. A sadistic brick red, a reminder of those he couldn’t save and those he couldn’t watch.

A mouth frozen open in a plea for help.

Lips curled into a twisted grin.

It reminded him of Lindsey Vaugn. Of Cat Adams.

Chap-stick made him miss one he never got.

Lip-gloss reminded him of what he thought he wanted, but lost interest in.

Red reminded him of what he could never stop. But black?

Black reminded him of what he worked to protect.

“Paging Doctor Reid?”

Bare lips and eyes shining with amusement. “You alright there babe?”

He was caught staring, face flushed pink just like in high school. Except this time, there was no fear of bullying or insults thrown at the genius. Just a quick kiss to his face.

“Just enjoying the view is all.” A response like that would've gotten him laughed right out of school. But your smile just got brighter.

You turn your back on him to face the mirror, grabbing the raven tube off your nightstand, unscrewing it and dipping it in twice before pulling the wand out.

An artist dipping their brush into the paint, ready to begin.

Your lips are parted, eyes focused and brows furrowed as you bring your tool-your brush you use like a master to its canvas-

Your eyes flick from your reflection in the mirror to Reid’s once more.

Caught again.

“Quick staring you goof! You’re gonna make me mess up my lipstick.”

The thought of you, lipstick smeared, appearance disheveled because of him made his heart skip a beat. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his chest where you fit snug like a puzzle piece.

Spencer smiled at you. “Well, You don’t have to worry about that-”

He wrapped his arms around you, setting his head on the crook of your shoulder as you brought the onyx wand to your lips.

“-Because even if it’s smudged, you look beautiful.”

In smooth movements, the lips he loved so much were painted in what is now his favorite color. Black.

Like the ink on the pages of his favorite books.

Like the jacket you left at his house the first time you came over that smelled like your perfume.

Like the blanket you wrapped him up in when he got the flu and you took care of him for an entire week.

Like the nails that would gently scratch his scalp, twirling his curls as he slowly drifted off to sleep with his head in your lap.

Like the boots you wore with such authority, confidence in each step you took.

I’m dark. I’m powerful. I’m beautiful.

And he agreed with every single one.

You popped your lips, smiling with satisfaction before you looked to the alarm clock at your side. Red letters glaring at you both. 7:30 am. “We both have to go.”

Spencer nodded. “That we do.” He made no movement to remove himself from his place wrapped around you.

“Speeeence?”

He hummed, nuzzling your neck.

“Ya gotta let go babyboy.”

“Do I though?”

You laughed and wriggled out of his arms, dancing just out of his reach. “As much as we both want to stay, we can't.” Spencer huffed and threw himself out of the bed. Sending you a particularly pouty stare.

“Oh don’t you give me that look!” He looked at you again, before turning dramatically to the door and sighing like a woman in a soap opera. “We both need to get to work and you know it.”

He knows. Another day of staring into the lifeless eyes of somebody he couldn’t save in hopes to find the one he can. Fighting the darkest minds in the world so he can protect the innocent. The families who have weekend barbeques and pool parties, the men going to crowded clubs in hopes of finding love,

The woman with jade lips, waiting for him back at his apartment so they could have a movie night together.

Spencer was pulled out of his trance, the long-winded mental spiral of his devotion to the color when a finger flicked his nose.

“What is with you today?” You stared up at him, head tilted to the side with a look akin to a confused puppy. “You've been spacing off an awful lot.”

“I’m okay.” He reached for his bag off the coat hanger as you both went to the door. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

And there it was. The shy little smile, the slight quirk of your lips and shine in your eyes that had his knees feel wobbly and palms sweaty. Three months and the feeling still hasn’t stopped, he didn’t think it ever would.

“You.”

Onyx lips pulled into a smile as you playfully slapped his shoulder. “Oh shut it, Romeo. You have to get to work.”

Spencer turned, opening the door and stepping outside into the hallway of his apartment complex when-

“Oh wait!”

A tug on his pant loop, causing him to jerk and spin around to face you, holding him by his trousers with a Cheshire grin. You reached up, fingers gently grabbing the collar of his shirt and tugging it down.

“I almost forgot.” Your whisper fanned out against his neck. He stood stock-still, like prey frozen in terror. But if you were his predator, he would gladly be your meal. The sound he made-he didn’t know what exactly to call it. A choked moan, a muffled gasp, or a mix of the two he wasn’t sure.

All he knew is when you pressed those lips to his pulse point, leaving behind a clear midnight mark on his skin; was that he wanted you to pull that sound out of him again and again and again.

You let go of his collar, fixing it back into place with an impish grin. “So you have something to remember me by.”

He didn’t think he could forget you even if he tried. Even if he was doused with Scratch’s gas for hours on end he wouldn’t forget. Because the moment his eyes would meet that dark shade, that void of other colors. His heart would skip a beat and he’d remember.

The woman who made him love that color so.

Authors note: Rewatching criminal minds and hnnnnn I love Spencer Reid so much that white boy has a special place in my heart. Might make this into a lil series idk. But if you want me to let me know!! Love hearing from yall :’). Gonna get back into writing for my king and husband Reaper but also some criminal minds stuff because quarantine is having me revisit all my comfort shows+movies for some sort of stability in my life lmao. Only a few more weeks and this semester will be done!!

#criminal minds #x reader #imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer x goth!gf #in this house we love sub men and goth dom girls

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sunflowersunshinevol6 · 4 years

Text

Dog From Hell

Pairing: Harry Styles x OC

Warnings: bdsm, dom/sub dynamics, light choking, fetish club

Summary: Lucinda's best friend has been dying to bring her to her favorite fetish club. It's there she meets Harry Styles, a kind Dom with a secret that could jeopardize the budding relationship

The one where Harry is the leader of an international hacking organization by night and a Dom at day

Goodness can be found, sometimes in the middle of Hell."

-Charles Bukowski

"I can be an angel sometimes, I can be real fucked up

I miss you only sometimes, I give you real tough love

'Cause I'm a devil with a halo, whoa-oh-oh"

-G-Eazy

The club was nothing like Lucinda thought it was going to be.

When Bitty had suggested they go to one of her favorite clubs, a kink club that specialized in BDSM, called The Cage, she had expected everyone to be wearing leather and latex.

"Are you sure this is alright?" She had asked, poking her head out of the bathroom to look at her friend. Bitty wore a strapless red dress that complimented her curves beautifully, she wore fishnet stockings, black spike heel boots and a dog collar. Her lips painted a light pink. She smiled kindly at Lucinda.

"Trust me Luce. You'll understand when we get there."

And here they were. The club was huge, red and black velvet couches spread out, plush red cushioned high back chairs and onyx colored tables. The walls were embroidered with red and black fabric that looked like spider webs or vines. The bar was made of dark oak, sleek and shiny against the glow of the red lights.

The people were dressed very tame. Maybe it was the fact that the only exposure she had ever had to this lifestyle was movies and Fifty Shades of Grey. There was a dress code here, and rules, written on the wall right by the entrance.

WELCOME TO THE CAGE

we encourage you to explore your kinks and discover yourself. However, you must abide by our commandments:

1: CONSENT IS KEY

this is not Fifty Shades of Grey and you are not douche Christian Grey. Respect boundaries

2: No Fucking in the Lounge

If you're feeling frisky ask for a private room

3: No Social Media

This is a private club. Many members are professionals in their every day life. Respect their privacy

4: No Fighting

You will be banned immediately and indefinitely

5: Have Fun

This is a safe space, you're with like minded people. Enjoy yourself, experiment and let loose

Seems simple enough. Lucinda thought as Bitty lead her to the bar. She could feel eyes on her as they walked, men and women looking her up and down. Bitty had let her borrow a simple and conservative black dress that left much to the imagination. But that was part of the fun as Bitty had said.

"I'm so glad you decided to come out tonight. I love goin to the club with you but this is my place." Lucinda smiled. Bitty and her were total opposites, Bitty was a kink queen. Ropes, chains, whips, outside of the office they worked at she was a Domme. She thrived in places like this. Whilst every hookup Lucinda had ever had was pretty vanilla. She tried choking once and didn't like it. Bitty said the guy didn't do it right.

"What do we do." She asked as her friend ordered them some shots. The bartender passed the clear liquid to them and they downed it quickly with no chaser. Bitty gasped, shaking her head.

"Chat. Talk to people. It's fun. But if someone cuts you off don't be offended. Some are subs with their doms and they have rules. Others are looking for a specific type, just depends. But everyone is cool." Lucinda nodded, she wasn't much of a talker but she did promise to have a good night. Bitty cleared her throat, standing from her chair and straightening her dress.

"My sub is here," Lucinda turned to see a well built man with dark skin and bright brown eyes standing in the entryway, looking at Bitty. "You okay if I go to a private for a bit?" Lucinda forced a smile.

"Sure," she said awkwardly. "Have fun."

Lucinda watched Bitty walk over to the man, take his hand and lead him away, looking over her shoulder to wink at her friend as she went. Lucinda sighed, drumming her fingers against the bar.

"Can I get you another?" Lucinda jumped. She turned to see a man, quite a few inches taller than her, leaning against the bar. He had curly brown hair and bright, beautiful green eyes.

"Sure," she said, clearing her throat. He smiled, he could tell she was nervous.

"First time?" He asked. His voice was calm and warm, a deep British accent accentuating every word he said.

"Yeah." He nodded.

"Okay, okay. Do you know what you're into?" She shook her head as he handed her, her second shot.

"Not really. My best friend and roommate is a Domme. She just went in the back with her Sub. But I promised I'd try the club out." He said nothing, his eyes just trailing over her body, taking her in. He made her feel small. "I um....I've been choked before....but it felt like he was crushing my windpipe so I never tried it again." The man raised his eyebrow at her, making her feel even more nervous. "I don't know why I told you that."

"It's alright." He smiled again, she noticed a dimple imprinted in his cheek. He was extremely handsome. "He must not have done it right." The man raised his hand, "may I?" Lucinda nodded before she could stop herself. He chuckled. "I need you to use your words pet." Pet. That one word, uttered by this stranger made her insides turn.

"Y-yes." He patted her cheek gently.

"Good girl." His hand closed around her throat, but he didn't squeeze the way her ex had. His hand touches her carotid artery on either side of her neck. He squeezes gently.

She gasps, it's a head rush, she can feel her pulse in her head as the bloodflow is restricted. Her eyes roll back and he growls, it's low but it only makes her stomach flutter even more. He let's her go.

"How did that feel?" He asked her.

"Really.....really good." She said breathlessly. "My ex definitely didn't know what he was doing." The man chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"I could show you more....I'm looking for a new submissive. If you're interested, I'd love to show you just how good it could feel and be."

"Like Fifty Shades?" The man snorted.

"Don't insult me little girl. No. Christian Grey wasn't a Dom....I don't know what he was. But not a Dom." She bit her lip, looking away from him, only to have her eyes dart back up when he spoke again. "I want to bite that lip." He said in a low pure, watching as he lips parted and she let out a soft gasp.

"I...I've never...." he nodded understanding.

"I get it. You're new to all of this. We could take it slow. Explore. If it's not your thing, you can leave at any time."

"There's no contract?"

"There can be....there are. But don't worry about that right now. If you're new to the life it's important to take it easy...If you'll let me, I'd love to be the one to break you in." His eyes were darkening and she shivered at his words. He leaned forward, brushing her hair off her shoulder. "I wanted you the second I saw you little girl. You look like you could be the sweetest little thing and you're already such a good girl." She felt herself leaning into his touch, her breathing heavy as his breath fanned over her neck.

"What's your name?" She asked. He placed his hand on her arm, wrapping it around her wrist, she wasn't sure if it was to stakw some sort of claim, but she liked the idea.

"I'm Harry." He said softly. "And you are?" She couldn't concentrate.

"L..Lucinda."

"Lucinda...." her name rolled off his tongue easily, a cocky smirk on his face as he fondled the necklace, his fingers brushing against her skin and giving her goosebumps. "Seems like the Gods are smiling on me."

"You believe in God?" she asked, her heart pounding, face flushed. He hooked his finger in the necklace, pulling her closer.

"No....but if I did, I do believe I've been blessed, mi amore." his lips brushed against her ear, causing her body to vibrate. "Will you let me give you a test run? Let you see what I can do and then....if you like it, we can go from there." she looked up into his eyes, the emerald color nearly outshone by the darkness of his pupils, or maybe it was his soul. "What do you say?" Lucinda bit her lip again, she watched his nostrils flare and his eyebrow twitch when she did.

"I think...." fuck it. She hadn't been laid in over a year and she had promised Bitty she would try to have fun

And if he was horrible she could just leave and never see him again. "I think I want to see what you can do." She licked her lips. "What it would be like....with you."

He grinned. It was beautiful. He threaded his fingers through hers, pulling her away from the bar.

"Come with me pet. You've so much to learn."

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #solo harry #hs fandom #hs imagine #hs fanfic #hs2 #hs1

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Catherines (part one)

[Heathers AU]

[Tour!verse]

Word count: 3469

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

-Beautiful-

“Dear Diary,

Catherine said she teaches people real life. She said, ‘Real life sucks losers dry. If you wanna fuck with the eagles, then you have to learn to fly.’

I said, ‘So you teach people how to fly?’

She said, ‘Yes.’

I said, ‘You’re beautiful.’”

“GOD, come ON, Elizabeth!”

A muscled, gazelle-like leg slammed into Bessie’s back, causing her to flinch and drag her pen across the journal she was writing in, leaving a black line that obscured some of the words. Bessie wrinkled her nose, then squinted up through the headache-inducing overhead fluorescence to look at the beautiful young woman now standing before her.

Katherine Howard was a sight for sore eyes, that was for sure. Completely unblemished tan skin, wavy dirty blonde hair that fell like sun-kissed silk around her head, striking golden-green eyes, muscles… The hot pink blazer she was wearing fit her body perfectly, and the black skirt she had on to go with it swished gently around her powerful thighs. Technically, they were breaking the dress code, as she didn’t have on any tights to go underneath it, but no teacher seemed to say anything about it. Bessie had to guess it was because of Howard’s father’s status and money.

“What’s your damage, Katherine?” Bessie snapped, though her voice cracked and wavered slightly, as it always did, rendering her comment about as effective as a baby white lion trying to roar to scare off predators.

“Don’t blame me, blame Catherine.” Howard retorted smoothly. “She told me to, ‘haul your ass to the cafe pronto.’” She looked up at the other girl standing there. “Back me up, Catherine.”

“Yeah, she really wants to talk to you, Elizabeth.” Catherine Parr said. She was taller than all of them, but quite a bit meeker than her two fellow K/Catherines. Her curly brown hair was done in a style that made Bessie’s scalp hurt just looking at it, but complimented her even darker brown eyes well. Her skin was the shade of melted caramel, clashing well with her signature color: blue. The blazer she had on such color was as expensive as Howard’s, but slightly more wrinkled and slightly frayed on one sleeve from her messing with the threads when she would read. The skirt she wore was plaid, which most people would find extremely ugly, but Bessie thought it fit Parr.

“Okay, okay,” Bessie said, standing up from the staircase she had been sitting on. “I’m coming. And, please, Bessie. Call me Bessie. We’ve been friends for, what? A year and a half now? Elizabeth is WAY too formal for me.”

Howard and Parr giggled, making a small smile twitch on Bessie’s lips. She liked making them laugh. Proved she could do one thing right and serve as the comedic relief for the group.

Bessie scooped her belongings up, messily stuffing her diary and pen into her messenger back, and then followed Howard and Parr down the hallway. Anyone standing in the way instinctively moved away like peasants parting for a queen. And they may as well have been, seeing as they were the most popular girls in school.

Okay, well-- at least Howard, Parr, and their quartet leader was. Bessie was more of a plus one, a special exception, a stray they found on the streets and thought was too pitiful to throw away.

Their group was called the Catherines (pretty cool that they managed to get three girls with the name Catherine, right? what luck!), and they ruled Crown Ridge High School. Everyone, from new Year 10s to long-lasting Year 13s, knew of their reign--even the teachers! Nobody messed with them, because they knew there would be hell to pay if they did.

Howard pushed open the set of double doors coming up in front of them, and the trio passed into a world of chaos.

The lunch room was always like this- noisy, thundering, booming, any other synonym for loud… Kids were absolutely everywhere, crammed into the lunch tables or sitting at the bistro or standing in the lunch lines, all talking, worrying, planning, reacting at once.

And then, in the middle of the mess, there she stood: Catherine of Aragon.

Catherine of Aragon, or Catalina de Aragon as her heritage suggests, was like a yellow diamond in a bat-infested cave. She was gorgeous, that’s for sure, her luscious dark brown hair tied back in a perfect ponytail with thick marigold scrunchy, without a strand out of place, and her fair skin enviably clear. Her eyes were dark and challenging, like twin pieces of polished onyx poised in her sleek skull. The golden silk blazer (Bessie didn’t even know they made silk blazers until she first saw it) she wore glittered in the lights, as if it were charged with electricity, and the black skirt matching with it made her look like the queen of a wasp colony. When she saw Bessie coming over with Howard and Parr, she gave a snake-like smile that only meant she was up to something.

“Elizabeth,” She said, the only one to never use the nickname no matter how many times she was corrected, “finally.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting, your majesty,” Bessie apologized. She tried to sound mocking, but Aragon didn’t seem affected by the title she was given. If anything, she looked a little satisfied by it.

“I need you to write a hot and horny, but realistically lowkey note in Anna von Cleves’s handwriting so we can slip it onto Joan Asstley’s lunch tray when she isn’t looking.” Aragon told her, but even stuttering as she laid down her plan.

Anna von Cleves was on the rugby team and so hot she could turn even the straightest women gay. Joan Astley, on the other hand, was a thin, pale-skinned, weird-eyed outcast with no friends and hair as light as Bessie’s own--but natural. The two didn’t exactly mix very well.

“Shit, Catherine, I don’t have anything against Joan Astley!” Bessie said.

“Watch your language, little lion,” Howard teased.

Bessie’s ears flamed red. Ever since she got a new haircut, the Catherines would not stop saying the poofy hair on her head made her look like a lion cub.

“You don’t have anything for her, either.” Aragon told Bessie. Then, abundantly blessed with smugness, she went on, “Come on, it’s be very! The note will give her shower-nozzle masturbation material for weeks.”

Howard and Parr exchanged smirks. Bessie glanced at them and sighed.

“I’ll think about it,” She said.

“Don’t think,” Aragon said. “Do.”

Shuffling in one of the lunch lines, Joan was getting ready to pay for her tray of food. She was dressed in a rather ugly clash of overalls and a pink floral undershirt. Aragon wrinkled her nose at the outfit in disgust.

“Yuck,” She said. “Overalls.”

“I’m wearing overalls!” Bessie yelped.

“Yes, but they work on you,” Aragon said, patting Bessie’s head. “Elizabeth needs something to write on. Catherine, bend over.”

Parr sighed and bent over. A clipboard was shoved into Bessie’s hands, and Bessie had no choice but to use her friend as a portable desk and write the things Aragon began to say to her. When she was finished, she tore the page free and folded it up for Howard to deliver, which she did smoothly and painlessly without being noticed.

“And now we wait,” Aragon said with a pleased smirk. “Come, ladies. I brought lunch.”

The four of them gathered at their claimed table, where clean, neatly cut sandwiches were placed out in each of their spots, along with some fruit and vegetable slices and cookies.

“Turkey, ham, and cheese, mozzarella and swiss specifically, with a dash of mustard for Catherine,” Aragon declared. “BLT for me and Katherine. And then, a grilled cheese for Elizabeth.”

They all tittered at the last named food item. Bessie grinned cheekily at them.

“What?” She said innocently. “At least I didn’t ask for a peanut butter and butter sandwich like last time!”

“I still cannot believe you asked me to make a damn peanut butter and BUTTER sandwich,” Aragon said. “You are a creature, I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Bessie giggled. “And it is GOOD, okay? I like butter!”

“I’ll bring you a tub of butter when it’s my turn to bring lunch,” Parr joked, and she and Bessie flashed each other smiles.

“I look forward to it!” Aragon rolled her eyes at them in an amused way while Howard chuckled and shook her head. Somewhere behind their table, a pair of kids at a booth were shouting about donating to a charity for Africa.

“Blount,” Aragon said, “Guess what today is.”

Bessie watched the older girl grab the clipboard and flip to a new page, and sighed. “Lunchtime poll? What’s the question?”

“Yeah, so what’s the question, Catherine?” Parr asked.

“Goddamn, Catherine,” Aragon said. “You were with me in study hall when I came up with it.”

“I forgot!”

Aragon snorted. “Such a pillowcase,” She muttered gruffly.

“This wouldn’t be the bizarro thing you babbling about on the phone last night, is it?” Bessie tilted her head.

“Of course it is.”

Aragon and Bessie stood up to begin, and that’s when Bessie noticed someone staring at them. It wasn’t exactly uncommon, what with them being the most popular girls in the school, but she didn’t recognize this gawker. He looked...different. Different in a way she just couldn’t put her finger on. And she was so focused on trying to figure out exactly what it was that she didn’t even realize she was careening to the side until she bumped into someone.

“Oh-- Sorry!” Bessie said, then noticed that the person she had accidentally knocked into was Maria de Salinas, an old friend of hers. “Maria! Hey!”

Maria smiled. “Hi, Bessie.”

“Hey, I’m really sorry I couldn’t come to your birthday last month.” Bessie blurted without even thinking it. Aragon rolled her eyes at her side.

“It’s okay,” Maria said. “Your mum said you had a big date. I’d probably miss my own birthday party for a date.”

Bessie felt a twinge of pain in her heart. She nudged Maria with a light laugh to try and get it to go away.

“Don’t say that,” She said.

“You know what?” Maria opened her bag. “I was looking around the other day and dug up these old photographs.” She handed a photo of her and Bessie during Halloween when they were younger, in which Maria was a fairy and Bessie was a bat.

“Oh, wow!” Bessie exclaimed, looking down at the picture with sparkling eyes. “This-- Wow. It brings back so many memories!”

“Come ON, Elizabeth!” Aragon said, yanking Bessie by the arm and making her drop the photo.

“I was talking to somebody!” Bessie barked as she was hauled towards a table with a cluster of popular kids.

“Oh well,” Aragon said dismissively. She halted them both in front of the table. “Hello, kids. Anne. Love your sweater.”

The head of the table, Anne Boleyn, glanced suspiciously up at Aragon before smiling tightly. She ran her hand over the sleeve of the designer emerald green sweater she was wearing.

“Thanks,” She said. “I just got it last night at The Limited. Totally blew my allowance.”

Aragon nodded like she cared, then read off of the clipboard, “Check this out: You win five million from the Publisher Sweepstakes, and the same day that Big Ed guy gives you the check, aliens land on the Earth and say they’re going to blow it up in two days. What do you do?”

“That’s easy,” Said another kid sitting at the table, Thomas Cromwell, before Anne even had the chance to give her own answer. “I’d just slide that wad right over to my father, ‘cause he is, like, one of the top brokers in the country.”

Aragon stared at him like a hawk watching a crippled mouse until Thomas wiped that stupid smirk off of his face. Bessie snorted lightly.

“If I got that money, I’d give it all to charity.” Anne said.

“You’re beautiful.” Bessie said.

Aragon growled deep in her throat. Bessie sidled around her and began walking to a new table. Aragon followed after her.

“If you’re going to openly be a bitch…” Aragon began.

“It’s just--” Bessie sighed, hoping to catch Aragon before she broke out on one of her furious tangents. “Catherine, why can’t we try talking to other people?”

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” Aragon spat. “Do I look like Mother Teresea to you?”

“Well, you are Catholic, so…”

Aragon flicked Bessie in the nose, eliciting a tiny yelp of pain.

“We have a reputation to uphold here, Elizabeth.” Aragon said. “Don’t act stupid. I know you aren’t.”

“Does it not bother you that everybody at this school thinks you’re a piranha?” Bessie asked.

“Like I give a shit.” Aragon answered breezily. “They all want me either as a friend or a fuck. I’m worshipped here, and you can be, too. And you’re just a Year 11.” She ruffled Bessie’s hair, earning a disgruntled noise from the girl.

“Come on, Catherine.” Bessie said. She brushed out of place white locks out of her face and looked up at Aragon. “Please?”

Aragon gazed down at Bessie, then wrinkled her nose. “Ugh,” She growled. “Don’t look at me with those big, stupid eyes of yours. Come on.”

Bessie beamed. “Thank you!” She chirped.

And so, they went around the cafeteria, asking the lunchtime poll question to a variety of new people, most of which looked startled that the two of them were even talking to them. They got an abundance of answers, varying from normal, to interesting, to completely weird. But they were the types of answers they had never gotten before this day. By the time they were done, Joan Astley had read through the note given to her and was starting to get up from her table.

“Come on, come on!” Parr waved Aragon and Bessie over excitedly.

“It’s happening!” Howard whisper-yelled.

The four of them watched as meek little Joan staggered her way over to the jock table, where Anna von Cleves and other various athletes sat, talking loudly. The girl stuttered something to Anna, then set the note down, which was immediately snatched up by Francis Dereham. After a moment of reading, he burst out into laughter, followed by everyone else at the table when the paper was passed around. Joan’s eyes filled with tears and she ran out of the cafeteria.

The Catherines were all laughing, while Bessie just frowned, guilt racing through her. Aragon noticed her expression and sighed heavily. She began to run her long shellac fingernails through Bessie’s hair, straightening and smoothing out the mess on the top of her head.

“You wanted to be a part of the most powerful clique in school, honey,” Aragon said. “If I wasn’t already the head of it, I’d want the same thing.” She made a tiny braid, then released the girl.

“Who’s that guy over there?” Bessie asked, nodding at the young man that had been staring at them. She didn’t know how to reply to Aragon, so she just decided to switch the topics.

“His name is Henry Tudor,” Howard answered her. “He’s in my Economics class.”

Bessie nodded slowly, picked up the clipboard form off of their lunch table, then began to walk over to the new guy.

The first thing she noticed was the trench coat he was wearing. The second thing was that he was built like a bear- large and powerful. His hair was golden blonde and he had piercing bright blue eyes. A smirk curled on his lips when he saw her coming over.

“Hello, Henry Tudor,” Bessie said.

“Greetings and salutations.” Henry replied languidly. “You a Catherine?”

“I’m a Bessie,” Bessie said. “Not in a cow way, though, Just my nickname.”

Henry chuckled and nodded. “I see.”

“This may seem like a really stupid question,” Bessie said, raising the clipboard up.

“There are no stupid questions.” Henry said.

“You win five million from the Publisher Sweepstakes, and the same day that Big Ed guy gives you the check, aliens land on the Earth and say they’re going to blow it up in two days. What do you do?”

Henry furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard.” He said. “I don’t know. Maybe row out to the middle of a lake somewhere, bring a bottle of tequila, my sax, and some Bach. Then I’ll just sit back and watch the fires come.”

Bessie nodded, smiling, despite the weird gut feeling she had that was saying she needed to get away from this guy. “How very.”

Before Henry could reply, Aragon suddenly grabbed Bessie by the arm and swelled up like a venomous snake before Henry. “Let’s go, Elizabeth.” She said.

“Okay, I’m coming,” Bessie said. “Later.”

“Definitely.” Henry said back.

Aragon began guiding Bessie back to the table, where they finished eating with the other two Catherines. As she ate her sandwich, Bessie could feel Henry’s gaze on her, burning holes into her clothes, and that gut feeling turned into full on discomfort. It got so bad that she deliberately tried to avoid his line of sight while leaving the cafeteria, which caused her bump straight into someone for the second time that day. This time, the person was a lot less understanding than the first.

“Hey!” He roared. “Watch where you’re going, you fat fuck!” “S-sorry!” Bessie stuttered, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She suddenly felt a lot more exposed, as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all.

“Did all that hair bleach kill your brain, too?” One of the guy’s friends snarked.

“Or just fucking blind you?” Another said.

And then, the Catherines were there, materializing before them like a trio of vengeance-seeking angels in the lights. Howard eased Bessie behind her while Aragon riled herself up to her full size.

“What did you just say to her?” Aragon asked, her words like a hidden bear trap underneath a blanket of leaves.

“She bumped into me!” The first guy blurted in a woebegone voice.

“Oh dear, what a disaster,” Parr mused.

“How many times have I told you, Dudley, that she’s with us?” Aragon said. “Do you REALLY want to mess with us right now?”

“No,” Dudley muttered.

Aragon was pleased. “Good. Now apologize to Elizabeth at once.”

“Sorry I yelled at you,” Dudley said to Bessie.

“Us, too.” Said his friends.

“It’s okay,” Bessie said softly.

“Wonderful.” Aragon smiled, but her voice was all murderous stalactites, sugary-sweet and poisonous. She pointed to each of the three in turn as she continued to speak. “Anyway. He was asking for feet pics in private messages, he is cheating on his girlfriend with his sister, and she is thoroughly sick of them both and wishes she had better friends to talk to.”

With that, she turned and escorted her clique out of the cafeteria and to the bathroom.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Howard asked softly, massaging one of Bessie’s shoulders comfortingly. Her voice was gentle and so caring, almost like a mother’s.

“Yeah,” Bessie said. “I’m okay.”

“Stupid bitch,” Aragon snarled underneath her breath, furiously pacing around the bathroom.

“You aren’t fat, by the way,” Parr said to Bessie.

“But--”

“Don’t even try it Elizabeth,” Aragon hissed. “Or I will cut out your tongue, laminate it, and then pose it in my foyer, and don’t think I won’t do it.”

Bessie giggled softly at her threat. As strange and slightly violent it may have been, it meant Aragon cared about her. Because if she didn’t, Bessie surely would have been called fat again.

“Okay,” She said. “But I’m fine, really.”

“Good.” Aragon. “Fuckass doesn’t know who he’s talking about. You look great, Elizabeth. Even if that cardigan is questionable.”

Bessie looked at herself in one of the mirrors and saw that she truly did stick out like a sore thumb with the Catherines. If it wasn’t her bleached white hair, then it was her baby face, and if it wasn’t her baby face, then it was how she was slightly more chubby than the rest of them. Howard said it made her look soft and cute, and she didn’t ever know how to respond to that, so she would just laugh. And if it wasn’t any of that stuff, then it was her awful sense of fashion. Today, it was overalls, a black and white cardigan, and a light purple striped shirt, as purple was supposed to be her signature color.

“I got it from the thrift store,” Bessie said proudly.

“I am not surprised.” Aragon said. “You are not wearing that for the party tonight, by the way.”

“What about--”

“You aren’t wearing those galaxy suspenders, either!”

“W--”

“No!”

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orginaldisneychild95 · 3 years

Text

Fates Design...

Both thugs go quiet at the sound of the Bounty Hunter’s voice.. Fiora still fighting, the one holding her tight defiantly talks back. “Stay out of this Mandalorian, we just want to have fun and she’s not bring nice.” Mando throws the other bandit to the floor, and apparently not so tough scurries away in fear.. “It seems like the lady doesn’t want to play nice, and she’s right. You are being a bit too inappropriate.. So, I’m giving you two options.. You can let her go, and I’ll let you leave you leave with no injuries. Or, I can make sure you leave screaming in pain, with no way of healing.. especially if I freeze you in carbonite. What’s it going to be?”

In those few seconds, Fiora had to soak in Mando’s presence.. The first thing she noticed about the warrior is that he meant what he said and his threats were absolutely not empty. Also, his voice.. although modulated because his helmet it was like a silk blanket was wrapping itself around her, in the most protective way possible.. In the next passing beat, Fiora feels herself being flung forward aggressively toward Mando, he’s lightening fast and catches her before the beskar could cause her discomfort.. hands landing at the center of her waist, while Fiora finds her balance grabbing on to his forearms.. a bit shaken, catching her breath, and for the for time, looks Mando in the eye.. despite the visor of his helmet..

“Thank you, thank you so much.” The flustered young girl didn’t have much more she could say, which Mando noticed from behind his visor.. even though the occasion didn’t call for it, he couldn’t help but find her nervousness in his presence despite her fear endearing.. “Are you hurt?” Mando ask softly, Fiora shakes her head no..

Still holding Fiora protectively, Mando looks over her shoulder at the unpleasant being who had his hands on her.. Giving him final and warning words.. “Get out of here, and if I catch you back here again.. there won’t be a warning” Mando takes a chilling tone in his voice, taking one hand from Fiora’s waist and laying on his blaster.. just in case.. With a final grunt of anger, knocking a customer’s drink off the bar on purpose, the beastly creature leaves..

A beat or two later Fiora breathes a sigh of relief, straightens her posture and steps back a bit from Mando, taking him in from helmet to toe.. he’s most certainly a sight to behold. She knew Mandalorians were powerful, but Mando was something unique.. She lets out a breath with a chuckle and properly thanks her savior.. “I have no idea how else to show my gratitude, I would hate for anything to have happened to you because of that monster.. but you were sharp. Again, I thank you.”

Mando reveals a soft chuckle from under his helmet, a bit taken a back with the idea that she was worried for him.. “While you worry for me, my only concern was you.. however, you’re very kind. Also, the fact that you’re safe is thanks enough. Apart from ridding the galaxy of scum like that, part of my responsibility is to protect, which I take especially seriously”

Fiora smiled hearing him talk, the care and consideration in his tone was evident.. as if he’d experienced such a task before. He has a very large heart, she can feel it.

Mando slightly tilted his head looking at Fiora “Dank Ferrik, she’s stunning.. her smile shines brighter the the stars of Naboo, why anyone would want to hurt her I have no clue.. then again, beast are everywhere in the galaxy” He thinks to himself.. her melodic voice breaks his thoughts before he could keep going on.. “Well, regardless.. you showed up that the right time and you’re obviously the best at what you, because from what I just saw.. people respect you but fear you at the same time. You’re a surprising one, Mandalorian.” Her voice laced with sweetness and zeal...

Mando straightens up and takes two steps towards her, “If people would stop doing bad things they would have nothing to fear, but.. you can’t change how people operate. Also, please.. it’s Mando, that’s what everyone calls me.”

Fiora giggles, liking his open way with conversation.. “Mando, hm.. I like it. Where are my manners? I’m Fiora, everyone calls me Fi for short” She didn’t shake his hand because she had a feeling that it wasn’t his style.. However, it was refreshing to her. Mando liked her name, very pretty. Especially the way it sounded.. he had feeling it meant something special.

The handsome bounty hunter replies, “Fiora, that’s pretty.. it’s nice to meet you, Fi. Well, I guess I should let you get back to your customers.. lord knows you’ve probably got catching up to do before you go home” Mando says with a slight hesitance to end their talk..

The fascinated girl sighs, “Yes, sadly you are correct. I wish we would’ve crossed paths under different terms.” She laughs softly..

“Fi, sweetie.. we need help back here”.. The voice of her boss rings out behind her.. Mando sees her eyes roll and smiles at her frustration..

“Good night, Fi.. You think we’ll see each other again”? Mando asked, a soft smile in his voice..

For the first time in years, the sweetest pink blushes caresses Fiora’s cheeks.. slightly looking away from mando... Mando doesn’t miss it, his helmet tilting sideways softly.. liking the effect he causing her.. after a few seconds, he hears her reply.. A flirty, playful tone weaving itself in her voice.. “If you stop by for a drink and not for a rescue, then yes.. absolutely” She gives him a final wink before walking back to the bar.

As he watches her lovely retreating figure, while heading back to his table.. He couldn’t shake the effect her smile had on him.. the sweet softness of her voice.. and her alluring beauty veiled by shyness. Mando sits down and the realization hits him that this was absolutely not the last time he and Fiora would cross paths..

(***)

2 Hours later and Fiora is finally home, exhausted from the events of the day.. and mentally off balance because a warrior and hero changed everything in one instance.. Mando hadn’t left her thoughts for one second, in complete awe of him and his presence.. unlike any Mandalorian she’d previously encountered. She smiled, her cheeks growing warm.. he certainly is a delectable sight.. his voice beckons the senses, and she couldn’t refuse the urge to guess how much man lay hidden under the beskar... She giggles out loud, a fluttering sensation all through her body.. “Get grip Fi, you won’t be seeing him again for a while. Curse you for being right, Peli”.. As she’s picking up her hair to cool off the back of her neck with a pink ribbon, she’s on her way to her garden to check on her onyx orchids... Just as she’s about to open her back door... A deep, menacing voice freezes her on the spot... “Where’s my onyx powder, girlie?”

#the mandalorian #star wars #FioraXMando #adventure #love story #Mando #my baby #din djarin #pedro pascal

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lemonietrinket · 4 years

Text

Save A Nation ||| Johnny x Reader

Summary: Johnny knows how hot he is. Oh he knows. He also knows that a certain someone has had a crush on him for a very long time. And he also knows you’re not confident enough to address it. But this is the catch for you, you see: because he is. Genre: Fluff? I don’t think it is... But it ain’t exactly hardcore smut, is it? If ya’ll wanna kiss John Seo then this is a fic that caters to that very purpose, kk Warning(s): Johnny. Word Count: 2965 how is this longer than the min&joo one wHaT Theme Songs: Flower Shower - Hyuna; Who Is In Your Heart Now? - Studio Killers AN: December 13 prompt, mistletoe! (credit: @songi-writes) Also, can we have some more appreciation for Johnny’s lips pls. They are the definition of beautiful! And also my man Johnny in general like come on guys he’s out here serving looks, personality and comedy on a diamond encrusted plate my dudes, give him some attention

Set in a university.

~~~

The party was loud. A butchered club-remixed christmas song hammered the speakers at the hands of a completely sozzled DJ, as the throng of people shimmering like hyper-flammable lycra ebbed and flowed with the beat like shoals of plastic fish beneath the cheap strobe lights. House parties were never that good, if you were honest. But this one. This one was spectacular.

You wished you could say the reason for you believing so was actually good, or anywhere close to rational. But alas, it was not, since your reason was literally a boy.

Not just any old boy, though, in your defence. No no, it was the one of those god-crafted creatures whose blessed features had been cropping up in your line of sight ever since the beginning of the year. At the cafe, at the mall... Even in your favourite hidden-gem vintage charity shop.

One of those boys.

It was if Fate wanted you to do something.

But you never would. Never.

Because you knew who this boy was.

Johnny Seo.

God of charisma, king of basketball, comedy gold. He was on the front of the university monthly magazine for nearly every edition, he had his own radio show, he got extra-special discounts at several bars because he was just so...

He was in the choir for god’s sake, and he was the one person no one made fun of for it.

There was no way you would risk ousting yourself out for ridicule like that. You may not be the smartest in the world, but you knew that asking him out for him to inevitably turn you down would make you the laughing stock for the rest of the year. And that was the best case scenario.

It wasn’t like you thought poorly of yourself, not at all. You were intelligent, and talented, and certainly attractive enough. It’s just you knew you lacked something. The thing that separated him from everyone else. The thing that made him destined for the stars whilst everyone else settled for the moon. The thing that no doubt made you feel head over heels for him when you’d barely even spoken to him.

It wasn’t your way to do things at all, but here you were. Caught in a daze, admiring him as he spoke to someone else.

You were so out of it, you hadn’t even noticed that that someone was actually your best friend. She didn’t see what you saw in the guy, and merely laughed at you when she caught you like this, rolling her eyes every time you stuttered an flimsy explanation at her.

This time you were purely snagged on his lips alone.

Soft, gentle, the gateway to all the secrets that he knew, and all the words he could inspire the world with. Hand-drawn by an artist and delicately positioned on his features, their ulterior motive to make those lips hurt you as you dreamt of running the pads of your fingertips across them, touching them with your own, seeking a sanctuary and your own hell in them.

God, it wasn’t fair.

Whoever got to kiss them even only once must have saved a nation in a past life.

Caught in your daydream, you were hardly subtle.

You never were.

Johnny couldn’t help but glance over at you whenever he had the opportunity, and it didn’t change in this case either. Even if your best friend was watching. Maybe if she noticed she’d urge you to do something after all.

He cracked a smile, completely unrelated to what your best friend was saying, at the thought of how shy you were. You just didn’t want to cause anyone trouble, whether it be him, your best friend, or yourself. You wouldn’t want to even be a trouble to the people you no doubt had invented in your own head, purely as a reason to stop you from saying anything to him. No, you wouldn’t even want them to exert themselves in mocking you. You were wiser than he ever was though because he just let himself flow into things head first and then talked his way out of the consequences, always relatively unscathed.

But the fact remained, you would never do something. So it was on him.

He hadn’t expected to see you around in the same places as much as he did. You’d had a lot more in common than he’d expected when he first saw you. He thought you’d have been into much... less ordinary things.

He didn’t know really, maybe the sunlight had dazzled him then, but that day in the summer when he first saw you, your laugh rivalling the entire world’s music, your eyes rivalling the galaxies above, your lips...

He was entranced by them then, just as he was now, transfixed as they gradually parted to mouth the thoughts charging through your head. He wondered what you were thinking, whether it was about him.

Oh who was he kidding, he knew it was about him. You were all he could think about too, after all.

Suddenly, something knocked his arm.

He snapped his eyes away, lips curving into a charming smile familiar to you—the one that always appeared when he’d been caught doing doing he shouldn’t be doing.

Sucked to be him though, because your best friend was extremely gay and hella proud of it, and so wasn’t having any of his antics.

“Hey,” she shouted over the music, “she’s been pining after you for months on end, Mr I’m-Seo-Hot-And-I-Know-It. Put me out of my goddamn misery and kiss her already?”

He blinked at her, startled but relieved nonetheless.

He had the perfect idea, and this was the cue to enact it.

You barely registered the fact he’d walked over before it was too late. Johnny’s drop-dead gorgeous face and unwavering stare was focused solely on you within a single blink.

Your daze shattered as you were thrust into reality.

He then said something.

You panicked.

You hadn’t heard what he said. The music had stopped too at that very moment, parting the sound for you to hear his velvet smooth voice as well as Fate had garnered it so, and your dumb ass hadn’t even been listening.

Too focused on the pools of onyx that made up his eyes.

You cursed to yourself in your head. Pull. Yourself. Together.

All he’d said was hi.

“Hey, I was talking to your friend. She said you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by the party and wanted to leave but since she was being selfish and didn’t want to, you’d been stuck here waiting for her?”

He waited diligently for you to respond. Eventually you nodded dumbly. Realising that was the best he was going to get, with a gentle smile, he continued, “Well, I was heading out, and will happily walk you back, if you’d like?”

That smile wasn’t one you recognised.

You scolded yourself for feeling a spike of excitement at that thought. You haven’t seen him that much, you haven’t seen every smile that those lips of his have curved beautifully into.

You were just too eager to jump on the ‘he sees me differently from everyone else’ train. Which was obviously a poor reaction, in your opinion.

Oh, how little you knew.

You managed a word this time, however. Congrats. “Please.”

He flashed you his characteristic, bright, welcoming, dashing grin, offering out his hand for you to take.

He just wanted to help you out of your chair. A gentleman. The way your breath hitched at that much.

It wasn’t wise to take his hand though. Your hand would be clammy from the heat of the party, and your nerves from just being close to him. And he may suspect something.

Ha.

But it would be too smart to listen to your own mental advice, regardless. You took his hand instinctively, and got to your feet a little bit too fast for your own liking.

And then he asked you another question. This time you didn’t hear because it was too loud. And you had no hope in hell in guessing what it was, because you’d ushered your eyes away from his own. His eyes were too good to look into for long periods of time. Unhealthy for you. They made you blush too hard.

Wait was he doing the long stare deliberately?

He presumed your coat, if you had one and he sure hoped you did because it was cold out and he didn’t want you sick, was by the door.

Leading you through the crowds, flashing that smile at a couple of people to get them to move, with his hand very very lightly brushing your shoulder to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowds. It was polite, but also protective.

Maybe your past life had been pretty good. But had you saved a nation?

Probably not?

Reaching the porch, and seeing the mounds of coats, he sweat-dropped. Even if yours was in there, it would take forever to find it.

“Hey, is your coat, like, not black?” he enquired, closing the door to block most of the sound from the other rooms.

You hesitated, forcing the cogs in your head to turn. Suddenly you hit a spark and remembered. “I didn’t have a coat with me. I forgot.”

He looked concerned to say the least, and you were confused as to why. Before you could think about it for even a second, he passed you a chic trench coat. It matched his outfit.

Oh no.

“I... no I—”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” he insisted, catching onto your pause. He held it out, nodding his head and indicating for you to turn around.

You obliged, and let him slip the coat over your arms, and up to your neck. Tying it up at the front by one button, it was huge on you. He’d forgotten how much taller he was than you. Oh well, you looked absolutely adorable.

He could have kissed you right then. But he had to stick to the plan.

“Is it left or right to your apartment?” he asked, opening the front door to the cold outside.

Walking along the ice cold streets, at an awfully slow pace, you almost felt your heart return slightly back to normal. You felt bad for making him take such short steps, it being icy and yourself in nice but not exactly practical shoes for the weather. His legs were so long, you wondered what it was like to be tall.

Actually, his legs were astoundingly proportioned, with those thighs—

“I know a shortcut, actually,” he announced, slightly out of the blue, especially for him.

Truth be told, he’d been trying to think of a way to get you to go with him to the tree. It wasn’t en-route at all, but he couldn’t think of a better excuse.

That being said, he couldn’t deny the impact taking in the sight of you had on his thought process. It was a lot to handle, that was for sure.

“Oh, ok, sure.”

Turning the two of you into the park through the gate a few steps away, you quickly realised that there was no shortcut this way, having walked this way a couple of times before. But there was a real brightness in his eyes, and it wasn’t just the streetlights. He seemed excited.

So you followed beside him, keeping up with his light conversation as best you could. Though you still couldn’t quite render what was going on.

He’d asked you about your favourite bands, your favourite animals, what you liked to do on an evening. He moved onto deeper things, your opinions on the latest news events, whether you believed in ghosts, what you thought of conspiracy theories.

And though you were nervous, it didn’t feel wrong. Or worrying. Or unnatural. Eventually words began to flow from your lips like they normally did. Perhaps you were even more honest than you usually were. Johnny didn’t judge. In fact he just told more embarrassing stories about himself. Like where he’d got some of his scars from, some of the people he’d met, and what being in the choir was truly like.

“Honestly, I don’t know what those jocks are making fun of choir kids for,” he explained, “choir-ing is hard. Not only does everyone gossip over one another, but the teachers berate you too. There’s no loyalty in the choir, it’s a basket of snakes, all armed with not one knife, but two! Only the most wary and sly stay alive.”

“So how do you keep yourself alive then?” you asked, genuinely unable to see this man as ‘sly’.

“Good question, my secret, you see, is—” He glanced up, away from your face, to spot that he’d reached his destination. “—going to have to wait.”

Before you could protest, he utilised those long legs of his and took off quite far ahead, up the mound central to the park, crowned by a giant bare maple tree. You followed him, head and feet working separately as your eyes stared at him, where he waited.

You could still remember the folklore of the maple tree, told to you by your best friend when you met them under it. Fate made it so that if you kissed beneath it, your love would remain eternal. It was a bunch of crap really, because so many couples had kissed beneath its branches and broke up within weeks. You and your best friend had laughed about it numerous times before, hearing their sickly vows from where you sat in the summer a tree away, before making bets on how long they would—

Oh.

Your feet brought you to a standstill right in front of the man you’d admired from afar for so long.

“I’m sorry for dragging you a little further from your dorm,” he said, smiling sweetly and apologetically, “but I had an idea and I couldn’t let it go to waste.”

You noticed his hand, pointing upwards, above both him and you.

Your joints were heavy, out of shock and also the sheer will of wanting this to not be a dream.

There, above your head, was a sprig of mistletoe, tied to the branch and fluttering in the wind.

“I know we haven’t spoken much, but I’ve been so intrigued by you for the past year, and I know you have too,” he began, his words instantly bringing your focus back to him.

You pushed yourself to meet his stare. As much as it made you feel vulnerable, it felt so good to finally take them in at close proximity, to have them to yourself, to have him to yourself alone.

To you surprise, it was Johnny that looked away first, gaze looping to the grass, mottled with snow, as he continued, “And since I didn’t know how to move things forwards exactly, I decided that this would... well,” he looked back up, eyes glimmering with a smile at the corners, even if his lips did not follow, “it would at least be memorable, all cinematic, even if it didn’t...”

You stepped forwards, cold-blemished hands slowly edging up to his face.

Cupping his cheek, you flinched at how icy the skin you found there was, only to replace your hand with much more certainty after. His hand came up to hold yours, to press your palm into his skin.

It felt slightly rough, with some craft he no doubt could teach you. They were warm, strong, welcoming. You wanted to just, hold them. Between your fingers, against your cheek, to your heart.

You couldn’t manage to stare into his eyes any longer, the passion in his stare was too much to handle, and so you reverted to taking in the lines and shadows of his face. You didn’t expect anyone this beautiful to even exist on earth and yet here a person was, with his soft skin and sculpted jaw and those inviting lips...

Shifting your hand out from his, you pulled it away, and instead to where you could feel his breath, cool and clouded upon your skin.

You pressed a single finger against the cushion of his bottom lip, running the pad across the etches, just as you’d dreamt of doing for so long.

His hand came to meet yours once again, but instead held it still at his lips. And there he pressed a kiss into your fingerprint.

“May I kiss you properly?”

You almost choked on your own heart at his words.

“Yes,” you whispered, standing as high as you could reach, your arms snaking around his neck to mirror his own actions, his hands dropping and holding you close by the waist.

Your lips met and it was nothing like you’d imagined. It was so much more than that.

They were so much warmer, so much more sweet and delectable than you could have ever guessed. Ambrosian. You were in heaven by his touches alone, secure and protected from the cold and cruelty of the rest of the world, even if only for a moment. How could you have lived without this the whole of your life?

His hair was smooth to touch, as you wrung some tresses between your fingers, soaking up as much of him as you could.

He didn’t pull away until you did. And you only did so because you had lost all of your air.

You breathed heavily as you shivered in his arms, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Kiss me again?” you pleaded, voice barely anything more than the breeze.

He opened his eyes, fingers reaching up and stroking your hair away from your face. “Gladly.”

How many nations had you saved?

~~~

AN: Edited, and I honestly don’t understand how I expected you guys to understand some parts lol It’s legible now tho!

With some extra tidbits too yeee ....!

Hope you enjoyed!

Masterlist

Edited: 16th December 2019

Re-edited: part way through 3rd February 2020

#johnny #johnny x reader #johnny reader #johnny reader insert #johnny seo #johnny nct #johnny oneshot #johnny christmas #nct johnny christmas #johnny seo oneshot #johnny suh #nct christmas #nct mistletoe #johnny x reader oneshot #idk what to call this

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darksaiyangoku · 5 years

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Noodle Boy gets a date! Part 2

To say that Jaune was excited would be putting it mildly. He spent a good 20 minutes rummaging through his wardrobe before he found the perfect outfit; a white shirt, with a red t-shirt, black jeans and yellow shoes. He took a look in the mirror before spinning around and giving finger guns at his reflection.

Nora: Yeah! Work it Fearless Leader!

Ren: Looking good. Let’s just hope you don’t end up giving Blake a heart attack before the date.

Jaune: *laughs* Thanks guys. Hey, do you have any cologne?

Ren: *pulls from his sleeve* Here.

Jaune: *shocked* Man, you can fit anything into those sleeves of yours, Ren. *sprays cologne over himself*

Ren: *thumbs up* Good luck.

Nora: Knock her dead!

As Jaune walked out the room, his legs began to feel like jelly. The truth was that he was very nervous. He’d never been on a date before and now he was panicking. What if he messed up? What if Blake started hating him? Their friendship would be ruined! His mind was racing so much that Jaune didn’t notice when Blake was standing in front of him.

Blake: Hey Jaune, you ready?

Jaune: *snaps out of thoughts* Yeah I- woah!

Jaune was stunned by Blake’s outfit. It was a purple vest with black skinny jeans and matching black boots. Her usual black bow was swapped out for dark green.

Jaune: *blushing* Wow!

Blake: *giggles* You’re not looking to bad yourself. *offers hand* Shall we?

Jaune: *stutters* U-U-Uh y-y-yeah.

Jaune took Blake’s hand, blushing as he did, and set out of Beacon onto the airship. Once they arrived in Vale, the headed near Tucson’s Book Shop, where opposite it was the new café: Café Forêt. For a small café, it looked unsually high class. There was even a small fountain in the centre.

Jaune: *low whistle* Man! I wasn’t expecting this!

Blake: *eyes wide* Yeah. Me neither.

Blake managed to find a table, while Jaune placed and collected their orders; a latte and traditional Vale tea. He sat and they had their drinks, satisfied with the results.

Blake: Mmm. This is great.

Jaune: I know! It feels like I’m drinking a sweet cloud!

Blake: *laughs*

After a few minutes of silence, Blake finally spoke.

Blake: So Jaune, I have to ask; what made you ask me out?

Jaune: *blushing* Well...... I’ve kind of had a crush on you for a while now.

Blake: *intrigued* Really?

Jaune: Yeah. When our teams started hanging out more, I took more notice of you and I couldn’t help but be...... well, fascinated by you.

Blake: *smiles* Fascinated?

Jaune: Yeah. You have this aura of mystery about you. Especially your eyes, they’re really pretty.

Blake: *blushing* Really?

Jaune: *realises what he just said* Oh god! Sorry! I shouldn’t have said that! I-

Blake: *laughs* Jaune, calm down. It’s okay. You haven’t done anything wrong.

Jaune: ...oh.

Blake: *places hand on Jaune’s* Hey, don’t worry so much. First dates are always a struggle and, in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m enjoying your company.

Jaune: *blushing* O-Okay. You’re right, I should just relax more.

Blake: Yes you do. Oh, before I forget, I... think your eyes are pretty too.

Jaune: *blushing even more* Really?

Blake: *nods head*

On the other side of the café, a group of six had their faces hidden by the menus, only to drop them when of them made a scene.

Nora: This is adorable!!!!

Yang: *whispering* Nora, keep your voice down! We’re supposed to be undercover.

Nora: I can’t help it, they look so precious!

Weiss: I can’t believe that dolt asked out Blake! They hardly even talk!

Ruby: *smriking* What’s wrong Weiss? Jealous?

Weiss: *blushing* What? Absolutely not! I don’t care who Arc goes out with!

Yang: *smirking* Then why were you the one who suggested that we spy on their date?

Weiss: B-B-Because I’m worried about Blake. Yes, I want to make sure her date isn’t ruined by Arc.

Yang/Ruby: *evil grins* Suuuuuure.

Weiss: *face completely red* S-S-Shut up!

Pyrrha: (I can’t believe Jaune is on a date with Blake. That should be me up there, not her!) *crushes menu*

Nora: *slaps Pyrrha on the back of the head*

Pyrrha: Nora!

Nora: You’re doing it again. That was the fifth menu we had to replace.

Ren: Uh guys? They’re leaving.

Ruby: Quick! After them!

The spy group fumbled out of the café, making sure they weren’t seen by the odd couple. They managed to follow them inside Tucson’s Book Trade. They each took a book from the shelves and placed them over their faces, trying to make sure they weren’t seen. Jaune, meanwhile, pointed Blake to the comic book section.

Jaune: So, here is where the comics are. You probably don’t care for them much, but-

Blake: What are you talking about? I love comics!

Jaune: *eyes wide* Really?

Blake: Yeah. I’m not so big on superheroes but I love a lot of the old reprints of Detective Onyx. They were my favourite growing up.

Jaune: Well, if you want to give superheroes a chance, you can’t go wrong with Captain Vale.

Blake: You mean the guy who fights with the shield?

Jaune: Yeah. Trust me, you’ll love it. In fact *pulls out wallet.*

Blake: *bashful* Oh Jaune, you don’t have to.

Jaune: It’s okay, I want to.

Blake: Well.....

After several minutes of back and forth, Blake finally let Jaune buy the Captain Vale comic. As they left, they spy group followed them. Jaune decided to take Blake to the local park, finding a bench for them to sit on underneath the silver tree.

Jaune: You know Blake, aside from books and tea, what else do you like?

Blake: *smiling* I’m a huge fan of Mistrilian period movies. They’re so exotic and rich with history, especially the ones featuring the samurai and ninjas. The fight choreography is always incredible. You just can’t go wrong with Mistrilian movies.

Jaune: *smiling* Wow. Maybe after this, I can take you to see a movie with me.

Blake: Already planning the second date before the first one is even over? Very bold of you, Jaune.

Jaune: *blushing a storm* Uh! That’s not what I meant! Not that I wouldn’t wanna go out with you again, I do! But you’re right! I shouldn’t rush! I-

Blake: *laughs* Relax Jaune, I’m just joking.

Jaune: *face completely red* One of these days, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.

From behind the silver tree, the spy group were watching instensely. Weiss and Pyrrha glared at Blake, furious that she had snagged Jaune for herself. Ruby, Nora, Yang and Ren, on the other hand, smiled. At first, they were all confused as to why Jaune would date Blake, but after this, they realised they were good together.

Blake: You know Jaune, as far as first dates go, this was nice.

Jaune: *smiles* Really? I liked it too.

Blake: You know, I have something I want to give you. Two somethings actually.

Jaune: What are they?

Blake: First is this *pulls out a book from her bag, it was a fantasy novel with four heroes and the title was in gold writing*

Jaune: Last Fantasy?

Blake: This is one of my favourite book series of all time, and here is the remastered edition of the first book. So I got it for you after you bought me Captain Vale.

Jaune: Wow! Thanks Blake! *places book on the bench* So what’s the second thing?

Blake: *smiles and leans in* This.

Before he could ask further, Jaune felt Blake’s soft lips against his own. It was a short kiss, but it was an amazing feeling, like he was doing backflips across all of Remnant.

Jaune: *softly* Wow.

Blake: *giggling* Glad you think so.

Ruby: *popping out from the tree* Aw yeah!

Jaune/Blake: *turning around* Ruby?!

Before Ruby could stop herself, she was pushed onto the floor by Yang, causing a chain reaction of the spy group to topple over each other!

Blake: *ahouting* WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS DOING?!

Yang: Uhh..... seeing how this date is going?

Jaune: YOU WERE SPYING ON US?!

Nora: *points to Weiss and Pyrrha* It was their idea!

Weiss: *looking in one direction* I was making sure Jaune was doing well.

Pyrrha: *looking in the other direction* As was I.

Ren: *deadpans* They were jealous that Jaune took Blake on a date.

Weiss/Pyrrha: *blushing* NO WE WEREN’T!

Jaune: *smirking* Jealous, huh?

Pyrrha: It’s not what it looks like!

Weiss; Shut up, Arc!

After a long explanation from the spy group, they all decided to call it a day and head to the airship. Throughout the journey, Jaune and Blake held hands, both blushing and smiling gleefully.

Jaune: So Blake, does this mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now?

Blake: *smiles* Absolutely. Thanks again for this date. I look forward to the next one.

Jaune: *smirking* And the one after that.

Blake: *leaning in* And the one after that.

Jaune: *leaning in* And the one after that.

Blake: *closing her eyes* And the one after that.

Jaune: *closing his eyes* And the one after that.

They both silenced themselves with a deep kiss, much longer than the last one. Suddenly, they broke apart when they heard the sound of a camera flashing. They turned to find Yang with her scroll out, sporting a toothy grin.

Yang: Aww, you two are adorable!

Blake: God damn it, Yang!

(And here it is, Part 2 of Noodle Boy gets a date! Special thanks to @lazerwolf1123 for giving me some ideas. Couldn’t have done this without you.)

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multisfabulis · 4 years

Text

The Road to Forgiveness Be Damned

Freed (Chapter 7/7)

Word Count: 8737

TW: Referenced child abuse

And with the release of this chapter lies the end of this story.

This took me almost a year and nine months to finish and it’s been a rollercoaster. Despite the mental and emotional highs and lows, I’m glad I committed myself to working on this until its completion and I can’t wait to work on the other projects I’ve got lined up!

As a final note, I apologize for the word vomit that is the architecture/interior design descriptions. It was in the middle of writing those that I realized this is a major weakness of mine because my mind cannot comprehend something of that scale. I also have no artistic sense at all so a lot of set drops are based off what I'm visualizing in my mind so there's bound to be many mistakes.

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

The sound of rolling waves was like music to Ven’s ears. Water ebbed and flowed along the shore as she breathed in the salty air. She opened her eyes to see fluffy white clouds scattered across an endless sea of blue, both above and below. An early spring breeze blew through, ruffling her hair and clothes. She took a deep breath and, steadying herself, tentatively walked towards the ocean.

It had been a little over a week since her and Ferreth’s return from Thal Esari. They left mere hours after Filaurel’s ruling, not wanting to spend more time than they already had by staying an extra day. She managed to finish reading Thessalia’s journal during the trip back and she had more questions than answers. The final entry was dated a day or so before her death and she still hadn’t made a decision on what to do with her. Rereading the last words she wrote felt weird, the image of her mother writing in her journal whilst not knowing it’d be the last imprint she’d leave in the world present in her mind. At least she knew that she’d never know what her fate would be if Thessalia survived and it may never be completely okay.

She also learned of something that shocked her. Something she had honestly never thought of but made so much sense looking back on it. It wasn’t just because of her hatred for Vlixeoxs, her contempt for her ran deeper than that. She was meant to be a second chance but it was dashed the moment she saw what she was. She was still coming to grips with what that bombshell revealed and it scared her to know how cruel someone could be to a child.

She shook her head to stop herself from going further. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about those dark thoughts. What she really needed to focus on was the limits in which her power could go. She never gave much thought as to what she could really do until she began wondering a few nights ago. Were the things she did just part of a dream or were they real? It was hard for her to believe she was that strong but she kept itching to try and do the marvels she had done in the dream. Today was the day she’d find out if there was more to her power she believed possible or not.

She stopped walking when the water reached her ankles. She nervously swallowed as she let out a shaky breath. Looking behind her to see if anyone was watching, she closed her eyes and held out her hands.

She thought of how her glaive looked, the weight and feel of it. How sharp its blade was, how tall it stood, she even remembered the tiny scratches on its hilt. She then willed her power to try and recreate her beloved weapon. She felt a weight in her hands almost immediately after she ordered it and opened her eyes. In her hands was a pitch black glaive made of darkness.

Her eyes widened in amazement as she examined the glaive. It felt solid and was light as a feather, not like the one sitting at home. She ran her fingers along the edge of the blade, realizing just how sharp it was. It even had the ribbon she tied around the top end of the pole. This was a glaive, a weapon she made with her power, something she could do all along but never the courage to do it.

She arced it up in the air, a fluid motion she hadn’t experienced before. Then she spun it above her head in one hand and passed it on to the other. She was beginning to really enjoy how smooth her regular moves flowed so effortlessly. There was just one more thing she needed to try out.

Tossing it high up, she waited for the perfect moment to show itself. Once the blunt end of the pole faced her, she kicked it forward with all her might. It was sent flying several feet ahead and, right before it sank into the ocean, she attempted to summon it to her hand. It came back like a boomerang, the force and surprise at how easy it was causing her to stumble back a bit.

She held the glaive up above her, looking at it in wonder. This was incredible to her, being able to create anything she set her mind to and with such ease! It may only be the first thing she planned on testing out but she was excited all the same. She dismissed the glaive and it dispersed into dark wisps from her hand.

Now it was time for the second thing she remembered doing in the dream. She closed her eyes again and imagined a wall behind her. The wall had dozens of daggers, swords, and whatever else she could think of trained up at the sky. Once the image was etched in her mind, she raised her arms. Barely any sound was made as she finished summoning the wall and turned around to see it.

Shock and awe filled her being as she marveled at her creation. The wall was tilted up towards the sky and it spanned the width of the beach. There were spikes protruding out of the surface, appearing about ready to fire. All she needed to do was lift a hand and wave it.

So she did just that. She turned back around, raised a hand up, and pointed two fingers at the sky. Her mouth curled up into a playful smile as she eagerly braced herself for the magic that was about to happen. Like pulling the trigger of a crossbow, she shot a barrage of dark bladed weapons high into the sky. They flew ahead in an arc and landed in the ocean, dissolving into wisps once more.

Adrenaline coursed through her body as she tried to keep herself calm. Her hands shook, butterflies fluttered around in her stomach, and her heart pounded against her chest. This may have been becoming too much for her but she wanted to keep going. How she wasn’t bouncing all over the place was anyone’s guess.

Time for the third and final phase. The thing she never ever thought would be possible, even if she knew how the other two worked. This was something she’d been looking forward to the most and, if she could do it, it’d be a miracle. It didn’t take much for her to remember the image because how could she forget such a sight? A weight was placed on her back and she wanted to squeal in delight.

She glanced over her shoulder. Two giant black wings were attached to the middle of her back, beads of darkness dripping off them onto the sand below. They weren’t feathered but they didn’t need to be to look beautiful. They were like a smooth onyx gem that shone a slight purple tinge when the light hit them right. She had only caught a glimpse of them in the moonlight from the dream so seeing them on a bright day like today made this moment all the more special.

She took in a deep, shaky breath, excited for what was happening next. Her wings lifted themselves higher and higher before coming down with a tremendous whoosh. Sand blew away from her as she flew up in the air.

She stopped just above where the trees’ canopy was. Her wings flapped behind her as she took in her surroundings. It was breathtaking to see the beach, the forest, the ocean, everything from a new perspective and she loved it. Now she could start to really have some fun with this newfound ability.

She flew under the rocky cliff that overshadowed the beach, weaving through the crags rising up from the ocean below. Then she soared on up to the clouds, bobbing in and out of them and feeling the wind and dew on her face. She swooped down to the sea and glided above its surface, sticking her hand in to feel the cool water go through her fingers. This was everything she could’ve ever dreamed of and she could do this at any time she wanted.

Then she had an idea. It was, admittedly, a very dumb and very risky idea because of how much danger she’d be putting herself in but the chance of it working was there. If it panned out, it’d be extraordinary.

She drifted up several feet above the water. Anxiety began to grow in her stomach as she realized just how dangerous her idea was. She could very well drown if this went poorly, due to her inability to swim. It could be hours or even days before someone found her and it’d be too late at that point.

No, she couldn’t think like that. This might work after all and she’ll have been worrying over nothing. She attempted to settle down her nerves before steeling herself for what was to come. Then, after relaxing her shoulders and steadying her breathing, she dove into the ocean.

It was like being in the swamp again, except she could see this time. Light filtered in from above, giving the underwater a crystal blue hue. There were many different plants and coral and algae and they were all so vibrant and colorful. Schools of fish quickly swam away when she glanced at them. It was so pretty to look at but she needed to get back up to the surface.

Her wings managed to stay with her after her dive and they were beating as hard as they could to help her. Her lungs began to burn from the lack of air as she tried to swim up, her arms and legs feeling like lead weighing her down. Fear started to set in, her heart about ready to stop at any moment. A burst of strength came to her once she got close to the surface and it gave her wings the power they needed to break through.

She shot out of the water like an arrow, sailing up several feet. Water droplets clung to her wings, trailing down till they fell back into the ocean. She drew them in and quickly unfurled them, shaking the last few drops off them. The sun cast her shadow across the water and she couldn’t help liking what she saw. That was her, her and her power, and she didn’t feel ashamed.

She flew back to shore, an exuberant smile on her face. Her idea worked, it wasn’t a failure. Heck, everything in her dream wasn’t a dream, it was all real. She had done those things and they were all her.

All her life, she had been shamed for being a Vlixeox. Her eyes, her power, they were things that alerted others of her race. She could only do so much with her eyes but she could hide her power. She could pretend it didn’t exist, it wasn’t a part of her, until she got home, where she felt safe enough to let the mask fall. She hated having to hide it but she also hated having it.

Every time she looked in a mirror, she was reminded of it. How she, a Vlixeox, was living among people who were normal, elves. The mirror reflected back everything she wasn’t. Even if they tolerated her existence, just seeing them go about their daily lives made her aware of how different, how other she was. It was a constant struggle to hide the parts that gave her true nature away and pretend to be like one of them and it almost killed her.

It was only when she took a chance and helped Eric with her power back in Brinegarde she didn’t have to hide anymore. He accepted her as she was and treated her like she was his friend. Her once tiny world grew after meeting him, he brought her out of the darkness and into the light. It’s because of his kindness she found people that didn’t care about what she was and she was happy.

Maybe it was because of her time here she felt comfortable knowing her power was a part of her. There was no need to conceal it anymore. She never allowed herself to have fun with it but today changed all that. It felt so nice and wondrous and…liberating to enjoy this and having this and being this. She didn’t know if she’d ever be completely okay with being a Vlixeox but she figured she was on the right track.

Her wings faded away once she was safely back on land. She looked over at the forest beyond the docks and her smile dropped. There, just before the trees made way to the clearing, was Ferreth.

A surprised scream escaped from her mouth and she jumped back, her butt landing on the wet sand. He started laughing as she drew her hood up to hide her face. Her face felt warm, no doubt from the blush she knew she had. She heard him quiet some before seeing him crouch down in front of her.

“H-how long were you standing there?” she asked, flustered.

“Just enough to see you flying around everywhere,” he replied, resting his cheek against his hand and a teasing smile on his face.

She let out an embarrassed whine. She felt mortified at how he may have seen everything she did and that was humiliating. It wasn’t that she was now regretting ever doing this or letting herself enjoy it as much as she did. Having someone see her act so…childishly was something she felt uncomfortable with.

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” he said, dropping his hand. “It was adorable, seeing how much fun you were having.”

Answering him with another whine, he continued on with, “I think that was my first time seeing you act so…openly, I guess. You’re a lot more withdrawn normally so it was a nice surprise to watch. It’d be nice to see you like that more often.”

She finally looked up at him, staring into his light green eyes. They were warm and full of love, her heart fluttering the longer she peered in. He placed a hang atop her head and petted it, her cheeks still warm as she pouted.

“Come on, let’s get you up.” He stood up and held his hand out to her.

Sighing, she let her hood down and took his hand. He helped her up easily enough and she tried to wring the water out of her cloak. It may have been stupid to hope it hadn’t gotten too wet, considering how she literally dove underwater earlier, but she would be devastated if it was ruined. It was too important to her so she needed to be more careful from now on.

They climbed up the steps and were east of town. Her blush cooled down as her embarrassment from earlier gave way to anxiety. Today wouldn’t just be her unshackling herself from the hate people imposed on her when she was a child. She was taking a leap of faith, trusting in the hope he wouldn’t think differently of her.

“Hey, Ferret?” They had just passed the first building when she called out to him. “Is it okay if you come with me to see Eric?”

Confused, he asked, “Sure, but is there something you need me to do with him?”

“No, it’s… I’m planning on telling him.”

That was all she needed to say for him to understand. She was going to tell Eric everything that happened in Thal Esari, both in the past and present. Even her crime, something she wasn’t looking forward to. The prospect had been brought up before when they were there but she wasn’t sure if she’d ever do it. Her fear of him becoming scared of her was still a real possibility in her mind.

As she said back then, Eric was the first person to befriend her, show kindness to her. He was the reason she lived in Aurora Zenith now, the reason she and Ferreth met, the reason she was finally coming around to accepting herself. She didn’t want to imagine him hating her over what she did. If their friendship shattered after everything was revealed, it’d just kill her.

Even so, he deserved to know what happened. She struggled with keeping the bad memories from overwhelming her when he first asked her about it. Now, after all she’s been through the past several months, she felt brave enough to tell him.

She was asking Ferreth to come with her so he’d give her courage. That was why he came with her to Thal Esari and he’d serve the same purpose here. If it somehow went badly, she’d also need him there for comfort. She hoped it wouldn’t end like that and it would go smoothly.

“What made you decide on telling him?” he asked.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and I feel like I’m ready. At least, I think I do, anyway…” she replied with a nervous laugh.

“Hey, if you think you’re ready, then go ahead. Just know that I’ll be there for you, okay? I doubt Eric’s gonna suddenly hate you or be scared of you so…”

His words were all that she could rely on for this. Even if he turned out to be right and Eric didn’t think any differently of her, it didn’t stop the thought of it actually happening from plaguing her mind. All she could do was hope and pray that things would be all right in the end.

They arrived at the plaza, busy as it would be after the start of a new season. It was strange how, even with Aurora Zenith being more condensed yet bigger than Thal Esari, she liked the ambiance. Maybe it was because she had felt welcomed and not terrified for her life like she thought she’d be. It was nice to have people actually accepting her instead of shunning her for being a Vlixeox. She missed this while they were gone and she was going to enjoy it.

The plaza was generally regarded as the marketplace, as evident by the many shops and stalls open for business. It was also the place for people to gather around and socialize, something she still wasn’t used to yet. The smell of freshly cooked food made her mouth water as she overheard the chatter and laughter all around her. A small smile rose to her face; she considered this place to be her home and she wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the whole world.

“By the way, there’s something else I wanted to tell you.” He leaned his head over to listen. “I decided to forgive Lady Filaurel for what she did.”

As if he swallowed something and it went down badly, he coughed a few times before exclaiming, “What?! I’m sorry, but what the fuck?”

“Okay, hear me out.” She took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to phrase what she’d say next. “All my life, I’ve been told that I was a monster. I was a monster because I was a Vlixeox, which meant I didn’t have the right to exist. I believed them, especially after what I did. I still believe them now but I want to prove to both everyone and myself that I’m not. To me, I think forgiving Lady Filaurel would be the first step to doing that because monsters wouldn’t know what forgiveness was. That’s just what I think, though.”

It may have been strange to those who didn’t understand it but that’s what she believed. The “monster” she faced in the swamp, seven of the people she killed, forgave her when she felt she didn’t deserve such a thing. She was the reason they weren’t alive anymore and they still showed her forgiveness. If they could do that to their killer, then she could forgive Filaurel for all she did to her. It was a choice she knew not many would agree with but it was still her decision to make.

“Am I wrong for doing that?” she asked. His feelings toward her had been made very clear so she had an idea of how he’d take this.

Running a hand through his hair, he replied, “You already know how I feel about her. I absolutely despise that bitch for all she’s done to you and, if it were me, I never would’ve forgiven her.

“But--” he placed both hands on her shoulders-- “you’re not me. I may disagree with your choice but it’s not my place to tell you what to do. If you wanna forgive her, then I’ll support you, no matter what. Who am I to judge on how you want to heal?”

“Thank you, Ferret. I appreciate it,” she said, smiling softly. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t mean that people like me should forgive those that have hurt them. It’s just how I see things.”

“I figured that’s what you meant.”

They walked up the stone stairs that led to Eric’s house. It sat nestled in a gathering of elm trees just growing their leaves back and on the cliff she had flown under earlier. The front was painted a faded silvery white and had a porch of the same color that spanned to both ends of the house. The front door was in the middle, two small windows on its left and a large on its right, the nailed-in shutters black. The porch steps creaked under their feet as they stopped at the door. It was a beautiful mahogany door with a simple bronze knocker sitting atop it. Above the knocker was the emblem for Aurora Zenith inscribed in gold.

She tapped the door with the knocker’s handle a couple times. As she waited for someone to answer, she looked up at the emblem. It depicted honeysuckle vines crawling up towards the sun, its ray of light shining down on the town below. This was meant to represent her home, the place she swore to protect. She hoped it’d still be her home after all was said and done.

The door swung open to reveal Delrelle. They were Eric’s housekeeper and, though she’s only met them once or twice, they seemed nice, if a bit stoic. Their face held no emotion as they greeted them with a bow.

“Lady Venlithea and Sir Ferreth, what business have you here today?” they asked, standing upright.

“We’re here to see Eric, we have something we wish to speak with him about,” she replied. “Could we see him if he isn’t too busy?”

“Let me check in with him.” They closed the door and, after a moment passed, they opened the door and stepped aside. “I’ll see you to his office.”

The two of them were then led to where Eric’s office was. They passed by a white staircase leading up to the second floor on their right and the archway that served as the threshold to the living room on their left. A white trim divided the light blue walls in the middle and a long white rug covered the hardwood floor, stretching from the foyer all the way down to the double doors in the back. Paintings of Brinegarde, Thornewind, Mapleshear, and Ravenstrand decorated the walls, what were once Eric’s sketches given life. Small side tables had trinkets such as a seashell, a windmill sculpture, a maple leaf preserved in resin, and a small bowl full of gemstones from the towns he visited over the past ten months. It felt homey.

When Delrelle knocked on the door, a second wave of anxiety swept over her. It was only a matter of time now until he learned the truth. A pit began to form in her stomach, growing wider and winder as she let out a shaky breath. Her heart pounded against her chest and she was finding it hard to breathe---

Ferreth’s hand took hold of hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. No words had to be said for her to remember. He was going to be in there with her, be the beacon of courage she so desperately needed right now. She took a deep breath and squeezed back, letting him know she was okay.

After hearing a muffled “Come in”, the three of them walked inside. Eric sat at a maple desk with stacks upon stacks of paper piled all over, half read books sitting on top of some. Bookshelves filled with history, law, art, and story books lined the walls. They stood on a grand, ornate rug that blanketed the floor, the only thing in the room that carried some sense of sophistication. The whole room fit someone who valued simplicity over complexity but still had something to show for his position.

Bowing, Delrelle said, “Master, Lady Venlithea and Sir Ferreth have some matters they wish to speak with you about. I’ll leave them in your care.”

“Thank you.” Eric stood up from his chair to stretch as they went back out to the hallway, closing the door behind them. “Ven, Ferreth, what brings you two here?”

“Were you in the middle of something?” Ferreth asked.

“Nah, I was just taking a break before--” he raised his arms above his head, a soft pop echoing in the room-- “getting back to work. You had something to talk about?”

“It’s more like I had something to tell you,” she spoke up. “Something important.”

“Well, what is it?”

She swallowed nervously, the moment of truth finally here. The moment in which everything could change between them. Ferreth put a hand on her back to push her forward, his way of telling her to go through with it. Refusing to let her resolve be shaken, she looked Eric dead in the eye.

“Do you remember when you asked me how the people of my old village treated me back on the boat ride here?” she asked, trying to not let her anxiety show.

“...Yeah,” he replied, regret flickering across his face for a split second. “Am I finally gonna hear about that?”

“I’m finally ready to tell you everything. I’m honestly scared but you deserve to know every last thing that happened.”

“Ven, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. Don’t feel like you need to tell me unless you want to.”

“You’re the last person I ever wanted to tell this to because you mean so much to me. It’s because of that that I’m telling you.”

Then she told him everything she could remember. From how she’d commit petty thievery to survive to the horrific torture she endured. He was never good at hiding how he felt and the anger on his face was plain to see. She really should’ve known what his reaction would be upon hearing her story from the start.

She hadn’t told him the worst thing yet. The hope was that maybe, just maybe, he’d show mercy to her after learning of what happened that fateful day. He wouldn’t fear or hate her if he knew the reason behind it all. It’d still probably scare him to know she had killed fifteen people but he’d understand why. His kindness knew no bounds, even if it was shown to someone who didn’t deserve it.

“God, it sounds horrible, what happened to you,” he said, rubbing his hands over and over.

“There’s still more to tell you and it’s worse than everything else,” she added, the hairs on her body standing on end.

“What could be worse than what I’ve just heard?”

“Something not good. Something really bad.”

She looked to Ferreth, silently pleading for him to give her the strength she needed. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. She laid her hand over his, mustering up the courage to tell him.

“When I was eight years old, I was banished from Thal Esari.” A chill overcame her as she struggled to breathe. “The reason for that is…that I---”

There was a knock at the door. Delrelle cracked it open and said there was someone who wished to speak with Eric immediately. A pit of dread began to build up in her stomach as she anxiously wondered who was here. Her heart sank and her eyes widened in shock at the person coming in.

Filaurel walked up towards them, looking her absolute best. Her gray hair was down from its usual bun, styled to where it rested atop her chest. She wore a stunning floor length pearl white dress with a white and gold cape flowing down to her waist. She had her cane with her like always, though she seemed to be using it for its intended purpose rather than as decoration. Her chin was held up high as she sneered at her, standing before Eric.

Ferreth attempted to shield her from her but it was no use. He was probably wondering why she was here, much like she. Did she just arrive in Aurora Zenith? What reason was she here for? Did their actions on the day of her ruling play a part into why she was here? The biggest worry she had was what she could possibly do.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, my name’s Eric Travere, lord of Aurora Zenith.” He came around the desk and held out his hand. “Might I ask for yours?”

“Ah, yes, I’m Filaurel Crawraek and I’m what you’d call the ‘lord’ of Thal Esari,” she replied, gingerly shaking his hand. “Though I prefer being referred to as ‘Lady’.”

“So, what brings you all the way here to our little town?” he asked, leaning back on the desk with legs crossed.

“Well, I unfortunately come bearing bad news about your subordinates, especially concerning Venlithea.” She shot a cold glance towards her. “Has she told you of what she’s done in Thal Esari, both the past and present?”

It was as if a great weight crashed down upon her. She knew what she was going to tell him. She was going to reveal her crime to him and how she had selfishly asked for forgiveness, all because she questioned her authority. If he heard of it from her, that would be it. Their friendship would be over, he’d drive her out of town, and she’ll be all alone again.

“I mean, I know some of why she was there a couple weeks ago but I don’t know much of what she’s done in her childhood other than what she’s told me,” he replied, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

“Then it’s of great importance I tell you this. You see, when she was a child, she---”

“Don’t tell him!” She grabbed onto her arm in desperation. “Please, I beg you, don’t tell him!”

“Unhand me at once, Venlithea!” She tried to get out of her grip but she held strong. “He has a right to know of what you did.”

“Please don’t tell him! I’ll---I’ll do anything you want, just don’t tell him!”

“When Venlithea was a child, she---”

“My Lady, please…!” Tears stung her eyes as she fell to her knees, still holding onto her.

“---took the lives of fifteen people. Cut them down mercilessly.”

Her heart stopped as she let go of her arm. She would’ve collapsed entirely on the floor if it weren’t for Ferreth gently lifting her by her arms to stand her up. His hands remained on her shoulders to steady her. It felt as if the floor had gone out from under her, the world a blur.

That was it, her secret was out. Eric now knew of the horrible deed she did. He had to be scared of her now, terrified of her hurting him. Maybe he even hated her and wanted her out of his sight. He was probably beginning to regret meeting her, befriending her, helping her. She was nothing more than a monster in his eyes, the very thing she wanted to prove to everyone she wasn’t. If he wanted her to leave and never come back, she’d do it. If he so desired that, she’d do it. She’d do anything he’d ask of her because she loved him. How tragic was it for a monster to love the person who wished he never saved her?

“Really?” he asked in disbelief. “What reason would she have to do that?”

“I honestly can’t fathom why,” she replied. “All I know is, she was sentenced to public lashing after committing yet another act of thievery and she just…snapped.”

Not even bothering to hide the anger in his voice, Ferreth retorted, “That’s bullshit and you and I both know it.”

“Ferreth...” Eric warned, attempting to quiet him down. “Could you tell me why Ven would do something like that? I just find it hard to believe that a child at the time could do such a thing.”

“Venlithea was always a troublesome child. She’d keep getting into skirmishes with the other children, pickpocketed others for their money, the list goes on. She got into trouble so often, I had to resort to the extremes to try and correct her behavior. I thought the multiple lashings would be enough for her to desist but…I was wrong. It is because of my pride that I paid the ultimate price.” She sniffled as if holding back tears. “She’s lucky I only banished her when I could’ve had her executed.”

All she said were lies. She never got into any fights nor did she steal money from people. She stayed as far away as she could from others and she only stole food from the marketplace; everything else she scavenged for. How could she stand there and lie through her teeth like it was nothing?

“Funny you say that, because Ven gave me a different version of events. She said people often spoke down to her and she would be threatened with a lashing if she didn’t exactly do what they said. There were days she’d starve or had things she found taken away from her for no reason. If she asked why, it was because she had broken a rule that had been set but she hadn’t heard of the rule until that moment. So, tell me--” Eric placed his hands on the edge of the desk and tilted his head-- “which of you are lying?”

Letting out a chuckle, Filaurel replied, “Well, you know how Vlixeoxs are. They’re well-renown liars. They’d say anything to make themselves seem innocent and Venlithea’s no exception. After all, she hadn’t told you of her crime and you saw for yourself how much she didn’t want you to know. How do you know she’s not using your kindness against you to suit her agenda?”

“Oh, you’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Ferreth’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “She was gonna tell him about that until you came in and she was begging you not to tell him because she knew you’d twist the truth of what happened to make her out to be the bad guy. You’re the liar here, you old crone.”

Why did it matter as to who was lying? What’s done was done and she had been outed as a killer. It can never be taken back. What point was there in defending her when it didn’t erase what she did?

“Another thing, your subordinate here--” she gestured to Ferreth-- “has quite the mouth on him. Let’s just say that, during our last meeting, he took it upon himself to call me very vulgar things, words I’d rather not repeat. I figured to let you know so you could decide on the best course of action to take.”

“Ohh…” Eric sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Ferreth, is she telling the truth?”

Letting out a breath, Ferreth replied, “Yes. I admit, I lost my temper and said some pretty…not so good things but I’m not apologizing or taking them back. I couldn’t just stand idly by while she tore into Ven with her remarks. I accept whatever punishment you give to me, my lord.”

“I see…” He took a moment to think on what he wanted to say next. “Well, as much as it may upset you, Lady Filaurel, there’s not much I can do. He was out of my jurisdiction at the time and, since he hadn’t broken the law over there and was considered a mere visitor, I’m not responsible for his actions outside of Aurora Zenith.”

“You mean to let him walk scot-free?” she asked, a tinge of anger dripping into her voice.

“The best I can do is a stern lecture but I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted to hear that.”

Huffing, she asked, “And what of her? What do you mean to do with Venlithea?”

“From what I’ve gathered, she hasn’t done anything to warrant disciplinary action. Whatever she did back then doesn’t matter now and even if it did, she was already tried in your court of law.”

“She’s a Vlixeox, my good sir. It’s far too dangerous for you to let something like her wander around unsupervised. I’d suggest putting in some preventative measures to ensure that a massacre on the scale of Thal Esari’s doesn’t happen again.”

“Ven’s lived here for about a year now and no one’s had a problem with her, as far as I’m aware. I think we’ll be perfectly fine.”

“You’re underestimating her. Sooner or later, she’ll take matters into her own hands and you’ll be left with several people dead when their deaths could’ve been prevented. All I’m asking is that you don’t let a repeat of what happened in Thal Esari happen here.”

“Okay--” He pushed himself off the desk and stood up to his full height-- “forgive me if I’m out of line but you keep going on and on about this tragedy that occurred yet you’ve provided next to no explanations as to what her motive could’ve been. Have you ever thought that you might share part of the blame? Have you ever tried to take responsibility for her actions, since you were her guardian, I’d assume?”

“Y-you insolent…” She recognized the tone of her voice. It was the tone she’d use if anyone seriously crossed her. “How am I the one to blame for what Venlithea did? I’m not the one who tore their bodies asunder while others ran and pled for mercy! Do you have any idea how hard it was to raise a child such as she and it turn out to be a complete failure? I’m still paying for the mistakes she made! You clearly do not deserve the title bestowed upon you if you won’t heed my advice.

“Only a fool would trust someone who committed mass murder in the past. I’d only ask you don’t come crying to me when she inevitably kills again because you refused to see how dangerous the beast really was. You’ll be just as much a monster as she is for letting her do such a heinous thing.”

Time seemed to freeze at that moment. Her mind kept replaying what Filaurel said with so much clarity. Eric, her light, her savior, would be considered a monster for what she did if the time where she’d kill again ever came? That wasn’t right; someone as kind and sincere as him could never be a monster.

A deep seething anger began to stir inside her. It was one thing to call her a monster when she already knew she was. She gritted her teeth and clenched her shaking hands into fists. It was a whole other thing to call Eric, someone that reached a gentle hand out to her, someone she loved with every fiber of her being, a monster. The words spilled from her mouth before she could stop herself.

“What did you say, Venlithea?” she asked indignantly.

Whirling around to face her, she heatedly replied, “I said shut up!”

She took a step back from her sudden outburst. “W-where do you get off on speaking to me like that? Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to, Venlithea?”

“I think the better question is, where do you get off on speaking to him like that? He’s a monster for whatever I do? How dare you… He saved me from the darkness you put me in, he gave me a reason to live from the hell you put me in, he gave me a home I’m happy in, and you call him a monster for helping me? You should be ashamed…you no-good, lying bitch!”

A resounding crack rang clear in the room. Her cheek burned from Filaurel slapping her as she stood there in shock, realizing what just happened. She only had one question on her mind: was that it?

A sense of extreme hostility overcame the room. She could hear a hiss followed by vicious growling beside her. Eric was warning Ferreth not to do anything stupid, which she figured to be bloody murder. Her eyes wandered over to Filaurel, hand still raised in the air after striking her. She touched her cheek and let out a short breathless laugh in utter amazement.

“Huh…that’s the best you can do?” she asked, a brazen smile on her face. “That’s what I was afraid of all this time? I used to be so scared of you but now I see there wasn’t any reason to be…Grandmother.”

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “This is hardly the time for jokes.”

“In one of the last entries Thessalia wrote before her death, she talked about how she had to swallow her pride and beg you for help because she was so lost on what to do with me. She thought you’d have a shred of love for her to know that she was scared, especially since the time I would be born was coming closer and closer. Instead, you told her she was on her own and left her all alone.

“I read all the ways you tried to control her and when she got away from you, you disowned her. I was your second chance at getting the ‘perfect’ child you always wanted but I turned out to be a Vlixeox. You couldn’t stand knowing that your grandchild, the baby you waited so long for to mold into someone you deemed perfect, was a Vlixeox. You took all your anger and hatred out on me and I didn’t know any better.”

“I tried my best to raise you but you refused to behave!” she exclaimed, tapping her fingers against the curve of her cane. “If I had known you’d turn out like this, I wouldn’t have wasted so much of my time trying to care for you. If you had just listened to me, I would’ve treated you better.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered what I did!” She kicked the cane out of her grip. “For years, I believed what you and everyone else said about me. I thought I deserved all the suffering I got because I was a Vlixeox and that meant I was bad. I tried so, so hard to be good and it was never enough. You hurt me over and over and over, even as I laid on the ground bleeding, wishing that I could die so the pain would stop.

“I was wrong to ask for forgiveness from you because I should’ve known you’d never give it to me. I didn’t have a chance in hell because your mind was set the moment I asked for it. You’re just a sad, bitter old woman that loved breaking me if it brought me a step closer to being your obedient pet.”

She took a deep breath and glared daggers at her. “I refuse to let you control me for the rest of my life. Both of us may believe I’m a monster but I did something I know you’ll never live down. I’ve forgiven you for all you’ve done to me but you better believe I will never forget it. Now get the hell out of my home and never come back.”

The room fell into an eerie silence. Filaurel looked at her in shock, as if she never expected her to finally stand up to her. If she was honestly speaking, it was a surprise to her, too. She probably would’ve stopped halfway through if it weren’t for her outrage at Eric being called a monster and the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Alek came in just as the quiet began to wear out its welcome. Eric asked for him to show Filaurel the way out, promising to explain what happened later. To everyone’s surprise, she went along with it, only stopping to pick her cane up off the floor. It was when she crossed the threshold she did it. She tossed parting words over her shoulder, seemingly directed towards her.

“I was wrong to think you were nothing like Thessalia. You got the rebellious streak I despised her for having.”

That wasn’t something she ever expected to hear. She never once thought she was similar to her mother in any way and reading through her journal seemed to confirm how different they were. Maybe she had more in common with her and it was just a matter of figuring out when and what.

“Holy shit, Ven, that was amazing!” Ferreth said excitedly, picking her up by the waist to hug her. “You finally told that bitch to fuck off!”

“Ah, yeah, I…I guess I did, huh?” she replied, her cheeks warm from the sudden hug. “Could you put me down, please?”

“Yeah, you did.” Eric put a hand on her head and started petting her after she was back on the ground. “I’m proud of you. You finally stood up for yourself.”

It made her happy beyond words to see pride in his eyes. There was no fear or regret in his voice, only a fond warmth she heard so rarely. Ferreth was right; he wouldn’t think differently of her and it was silly to believe otherwise.

She was lost in thought as Ferreth dragged her out to “celebrate her victory”. She never imagined her life would be like this when she was a child. She only had a day of no punishments to look forward to back then. She didn’t think she’d have friends, a home she was happy in, people who had love to give, a life. It was because of Filaurel banishing her that everything happened the way it did and…it was the one decision she made that turned out to be good for her.

If anything, it was thanks to Thessalia she even had a life. She may not have had much choice in the matter but she was still grateful to her for giving her life. She wondered if the voice she heard back at the graveyard was her, letting her know that she was watching over her. She liked to believe it was possible. She held the amethyst ring she kept around her neck between her fingers and smiled.

Would she be proud of her daughter and the kind of person she was becoming? Would she not need to worry over her anymore now that she was surrounded by people that truly cared about her? She had a home she belonged in. She knew if things ever got tough, she’d be okay. She still believed herself to be a monster but…she was beginning to think she was less of one now.

#airi's writing #oc; Venlithea #oc; Ferreth #oc; Eric #oc; Filaurel #Corona's Shadow #childhood abuse tw

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kouei116 · 5 years

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Diabolik lovers Lunatic Parade: Kanato Sakamaki

Earl Walter stole Yui's heart and replaced it with Kleinod. Yui and Kanato went to the earl's castle to ask for it back, but he wasn't there. They were advised to try find the butler to ask where his master was. Kanato wanted to get some rest first so they headed to a hotel. Due to the parade, the hotel was fully booked, Kanato demanded to see the manager - who recognized Kanato was Karlheinz's son and ordered staff to prepare the best room for him. While they filled in the accommodation card, the receptionist asked if Y was his friend, and Kanato replied: “She is my wife" (♡´艸`)

K: Hey Y, do you hate becoming a vampire that much?

Kanato told Y if Kleinod broke, it'd still be fine because he'd turn her into a vampire and they could be together forever. Y couldn't make a decision abt becoming vampires yet, Kanato got upset that she didn't understand his feelings and ran out of the hotel room. Y ran around town shouting his name looking for him. Seeing her desperately trying to find him, eventually Kanato came out in front of her. She must be tired from all the running so he suggested going to eat. While eating, Y suddenly fainted. Kanato brought her back to the hotel, he apologized it was his fault causing Y to run around earlier, he was very worried that if she remained human and someday she will die, he'd really hate it, he wanted her to stay with him forever. Y told him again that she wanted to find her heart first before making a decision. Kanato respected her decision and agreed to help get her heart back.

K: If you don't use cunning/dishonest means, you won't get the things you truly want.

They went to Reine de Aji general good store (Aji the lady owner here is the younger sister of Saba - the shop owner in Vandead Carnival game) to ask abt the butler. Aji asked them to get her the forbidden apple pie before answering. This forbidden apple pie was extremely popular and too many people queuing to buy, Y said this couldn't be helped and was drinking smoothie talking to Kanato in this CG. He wanted to use his dad’s power to get the pie but Y wanted to find other ways.

A boy bumped into Y, spilling smoothie all over her clothes. Kanato was angry demanding the boy to apologize to Yui properly and the boy started crying. Y told the boy she didn't mind, it's alright. The boy apologized to both of them and ran away, then came back with his Dad - who was the forbidden apple pie shop owner. The Dad said Y forgave his son with a smile, she was a kind vampire (Y noticed that he mistook her as a vampire) so he wanted to gift Y a forbidden apple pie. Kanato accepted it but Y wanted to return the pie bc she didn't treat the boy kindly to receive rewards. Kanato got mad (bc he wanted the pie to exchange for the butler's info) and ran off. Y tried to follow him, she bumped into the boy and he said his Dad was testing Y, it was actually a poisoned apple pie; if Y was a genuinely kind person, she'd return the pie.

Kanato arrived at the shop, giving the pie to Aji, but now she said she didn't remember any promises with Kanato?! She was happily having the first bite when Y rushed in and warned her abt the poison. Aji was skeptical but Yui's face didn't look like lying. Aji thanked Y, said from the start she didn't plan to tell Kanato the butler's whereabouts, but for Y, she'd help. The butler liked medicine herbs so when the Earl was away, very likely the butler would be at the Smaragd volcano to gather them.

Kanato told Y he found it strange why the Earl still put the Kleinod inside her after stealing her heart, and he felt like everybody they met in town today were testing them. He worried abt Y's health and suggested returning to the hotel to rest. Y slept and had a dream abt a mysterious man telling her: he granted her wish, since he took the heart away, she didn't get into any troubles with the vampires; the Kleinod can work forever, the Sakamaki lied to her abt it being temporary because they want to suck her special blood. Y woke up to a worried Kanato but she lied that she didn't remember this nightmare well enough to tell him. She trusted Kanato but she got anxious if he would still love her without the special heart.

Y and Kanato went on a gondola to get to Tirkiss waterfall near the volcano. The scenery was very pretty, Kanato said in town they couldn't enjoy the parade so they should take a break now, they know the butler is here, no need to worry. A fortune-teller lady invited them to try her shop that was famous for accurate love fortune. She gave Y a cup of tea to drink up then looked at the remaining tea leaves to predict that Y was having doubts abt Kanato. Y denied this but suddenly her body felt hot, her consciousness started fading and she fell into the water. Kanato jumped straight into the water to save her but the water was strong, she realized if going on like this, he’d drown...

K: ... Quiet! Only I can decide your fate. Don't die without my permission, I won't forgive you!

Y got drifted away and couldn't see Kanato anymore. She woke up in a cave with Kanato collapsed nearby. She was very happy he was still alive. She apolozied and told him the truth abt the dream. He said he only knew those kleinod to work temporarily, and:

K: Besides ... Even if the heart disappears, I will always love you. It's more important to me that you are alive than being able to suck your blood. I thought even if I don't say it in words, you already understood ... but seems like I was wrong. I ... love you *kiss*

Suddenly lots of bats appeared <Minigame Whack a Bat>

K (patting her head): It's a reward for your working hard (fighting the bats in the minigame). I’m praising you.

After beating the bats, it wasn't likely that the butler was here so they should return to the hotel. Y sneezed, Kanato asked if she was cold, checked her forehead and sensed a bit fever, told her to give him her hand bc it'd be troublesome if Y collapsed (aweee) Y saw somebody collapsed and ran over to check even when Kanato didn't want them to get involved. This man woke up and explained he was picking up a rare moss growing inside a cave that has poisonous gas even to vampire. He bowed his head to thanks Y and Kanato for saving him. They noticed he had a red granite stone on his forehead and they realized he was the butler! Y explained her situation, the butler could only give them the card written by the Earl hinting the location: On the full moon night, when it raises the crown at the very high peak, I'll return. (sorwy, I don't understand what this means TwT)

Y thought the Earl could be either at the tower or the mountain. Unexpectedly she overheard the girls nearby talking about the Zatan's mouth at Diamante fountain: if you put your hand inside the mouth, it will tell you the truth, but no one have tried yet because it's said that a disaster may occur to you e.g. splitting up with your lover. Kanato was very cool put his hand right in and got the answer: The Earl will appear at Onyx tower. Y asked if he wasn't scared of losing her, but he said: “If that happens, I will take you back. It's not likely that you belong to anyone else but me...”

They came to the tower and Earl Walter was there. He said he’d return Y's heart with a condition that she vowed to part from Kanato forever. She replied that he was wrong, he didn't take her most important thing. There's no way she'd exchange the 2nd most important thing (her heart) for the most important thing (Kanato). Kanato was very happy to hear her feelings. Suddenly the tower started to crumble and they got thrown outside, Kanato managed to catch her and said:

K: Y! Don't leave my side. Hold on more tightly. Please don't let go no matter what. I will definitely protect you, now and ...in the future. You can stop worrying, it'll definitely be alright. I love you... I love you.

When Y woke up, she and Kanato were in the Earl's castle. He said he did want her heart but he realized that Y and Kanato were worthy of keeping such a treasure hence he returned it. Kanato demanded him to show his face but he refused. He hoped they would enjoy the festival and he needed to leave for his next target to steal.

Y had fun at the parade because Kanato was at her side. The forbidden apple pie shop owner gave them an apple pie (not poisoned one this time yay) and Kanato fed Y from his fork

Y: ... It’s extremely delicious! Just like you said Kanato!

K: That's good. You can eat the rest.

Y: Eh, is it ok for you Kanato? Does it not suit your taste?

K: No, it's not that. Because, as expected, I like this better *kiss*... Fufu, thanks to you eating the apple pie, this feels sweeter than usual *Nnn....n...Nnn.....*. You're a special. Y, to me you're probably the forbidden fruit. I love you ... From now on, you're mine and mine alone, forever ....

Care for Vampire:

K: ... Thank you. Thanks to you, Y, I've felt much better. Let's sleep together like this. If you sleep with me, I will get well. (...) From today, you will be my personal pillow. ... Are you happy? ... Fufu, me too. Please let me hug you like this forever...

---

I really like Kanato's sub scenario with Carla. Kanato requested room service to hold a sweet party just for the two of them in the hotel's guest room aaaand Carla was eating their sweets there. Kanato was getting grumpy but Carla complimented Kanato's taste in choosing sweets - esp the religieuses that have high artistic value and sweeter than anything he has eaten, he’d ask Shin to get it for him - making Kanato smile again. Then Carla, Kanato, and Yui ate religieuses happily ever after hahaha. Just like my sis-in-law said, it's nice to see my old man and little boy getting along (人´∀`) The route is sweet, Kanato always worried abt Y’s health, he jumped straight into the water to save her, I squeaked for 15′ when he said Y is his wife haaa（˶′◡‵˶）It's just... I guess bc Yui's heart was missing, there wasn't any sucking blood scenes, only a few kissing scenes at the end, my ears starved playing this oughhh ;u;

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers lunatic parade #kanato sakamaki #kouei116 psvita #kouei116 dl #kouei116 dllp #kouei116 translation #diabolik lovers translations

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theonyxpath · 4 years

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WOW! What a weekend!

And it started with our Legendlore Kickstarter funding on Friday! Now we’re moving into Stretch Goals – so please, if you haven’t already, check it out! The link is below in the Kickstarter section!

And and, to get you started, here’s a review of the free PDF of the complete text for the book linked on the KS site: https://thetabletopalmanac.wordpress.com/2020/06/15/rpg-reviews-legendlore-manuscript-preview/

Of course, this leaves the rest of the weekend, which just happened to consist of the first-ever Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention!

What a fun time!

We really didn’t know how folks would respond, but now that the three days of panels and gaming are done, I can say that our community was in turns hilarious, supportive, giving, excited, and energized. And that energy really flowed right back into all the events and energized all of us!

I mean, we’re still tired as all get out – who’d have thought that a con I could attend from my own house would do that? – but pretty sure we’re all still feeling the love, too.

Just to pull the giving part out for a second, we are absolutely thrilled that our charity goals were blasted through sometime mid-con, and we’ll be donating over a thousand dollars to each of our excellent causes: The Bodhana Group, and the Thurgood Marshall College Fund!

Now, back to the whooped by the con part, we are and I am, so today I’m just going to pull out some impressions of the events from a bunch of us who normally would have had our Monday Meeting today – we rescheduled it for later this week.

SCENES FROM A VIRTUAL CON:

Matthew: The Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention was the first con I helped organise, and while it had its share of stresses in the setup, it came to excellent fruition due to the fantastic teamwork of everyone working hard behind the scenes and amazing engagement from viewers, panelists, players, and those who donated to our charities and took advantage of our sales on onyxpathcon.com

RichT: I started us off on Friday night with the Opening Keynote speech, and then just sort of chatted with Matt McElroy, Dixie Cochran, Eddy Webb, and Matthew Dawkins about what was coming with the con.

For me, I then rolled into my first game, I played one per day, which was the first Actual Play of Exalted Essence. It really did run both fast and smoothly, and all of the various Exalted types we were playing had their times to shine. I was able to put a different, more easy-going, pie-eating, spin on my bear-totemed Lunar who still wound up grappling with the big bad and bear-hugging them in place for Danielle’s Solar to practically one-shot the sucker!

Ian: Convention was great, despite a few hiccups. I was on two streams early on: one Friday evening and one Saturday morning, and then the rest of the con was “free.” Travis and the GG crew were all-stars. Travis couldn’t get Nightbot working for a bit so I took over the random prize drawing for a few streams. I was often juggling two different streams in different monitors to help keep dialogue going in chat. Kudos to everyone, especially those of you who worked multiple panels and games in a single day.

RichT: In fact, the panel Ian refers to on Saturday morning was the “What’s Up With Onyx Path?” panel that started off the day at 9am. This is a panel where a bunch of developers and I talk about upcoming projects for their lines, and answer questions. Eddy and I started doing them about a decade ago when it was “What’s Up With White Wolf?”, but changed the name for obvious reasons after Onyx Path appeared.

During that panel, a couple of things came up: Matthew teased that we might very well do They Came From (the Old West!, or something more flavorful that fits the genre) as the third They Came From game, and Ian talked about Trinity Continuum: Aeon Mission Statements, a book all about the organizations in the setting that aren’t the Psi-Orders. We also noticed that some folks in the chat were new to Onyx Path and what we create, so that was unexpected but welcome news!

Then, I played my second game of the con, which was a sneak preview of Scion: Demigod! Neall took us through a voyage to the Grecian Afterlife, using the Ready Made Characters from Heroes of the World and I got to play a stern Horace Farrow ala Sam Elliott, while Steffie cut up many, many things with Yukiko’s Grass-Cutter Sword. Then, another panel on Community Content and why it rocks wrapped up my Saturday.

Matthew: I didn’t encounter one instance of bad behaviour in chat or anything dubious discussed on screen in games or on panels, and I attended most that I could as a viewer, if I wasn’t an active participant.

Viewership of panels and games peaked at around 250 to 300 people at one time for a couple of the shows, and bottomed out at around 50 people. Those are good figures. Our subscriptions and follows on Twitch rocketed, with many subscriptions being gifted by viewers and even more just being purchased or acquired via Amazon Prime.

My own highlight is impossible to choose between the games and panels I ran or appeared on, though the “Create Your Best Character” panel, which I suspected would be a sleeper, turned into an excellent talk on not playing harmful stereotypes and break out of dangerous tropes.

Eddy: The convention was great for me. My scheduling was a little odd, and I ran into one minor technical issue, but otherwise it went smoothly and it seemed like people in the chat were excited and appreciative. I felt like we got to dig into topics we aren’t able to do in normal convention settings, and attendance was definitely higher than usual for panels at other shows. I also heard that people had a good time watching the games or playing in ad-hoc games all weekend. I know there were some problems on the back-end of getting this all together, but I don’t think any of our attendees noticed anything but a nice, polished experience.

RichT: Sunday started out just like Saturday, with the second “What’s Up With Onyx Path?” panel, although with a different set of developers. The big news was when Eddy ratted out that he was working on Squeaks in the Dark, the mice/rats supplement for Realms of Pugmire!

I then had my second panel on Sunday, the “Art of Onyx Path” one, where Mirthful Mike Chaney joined three of our freelance artists and I in discussing just how illustrators work for us: how they submit their work, how they are contacted, how art notes work, how artists work, and what sort of music do we listen to while doing illustrations. Lots of great questions from the audience, and a wide range of experience within the panel, made it really interesting.

RichT: Then my Sunday game was the first public playtest of They Came From Beyond the Grave! run by Matthew, and featuring Dixie’s Rose Thorne, a driven vampire hunter with attitude, and 70s hair. She teamed up with B. Dave Walters’ smoooth street investigator to blast the ever-lovin’ hell out of evil cultists, while Ian Mueller’s exorcist (sorta) shot the big bad between the eyes with Rose’s derringer, and my slightly odd professor tried to save as much weird-science lab equipment as he could. Science! We left the haunted house as the superimposed fire effect began to devour it, fortunately for all involved (except the dead 70s prog-rock star sacrificed by the cultists).

I immediately had to log into my last event, but what a special event it was! Added late in the proceedings as we had to work within a lot of people’s schedules, I was thrilled to sit down with a bunch of my old co-workers at the original White Wolf in a “Memories of WW” panel with Bill Bridges, Rich Dansky, Ethan Skemp, Mike Tinney, and my old go-to designer for graphics, Matt Milberger.

Much reminiscing occurred, interposed with questions from the chat, that pretty much focused on our time from the early 90s to the early 2000s, although we did chat a bit about the late, lamented WoD MMO, as most of us worked on that in one capacity or another. Mike talked about how he cozened us an arcade version of Dark Stalkers for our little lunchroom, and we had fond memories of the WW Blood Bowl League.

(My Children of the Khorne chaos team won the cup two seasons in a row, just sayin’).

And although I didn’t want it to end, it did, and my time at the first-ever Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention was over. Which was actually pretty good because my brain was on autopilot at that point.

Ian: Everyone on both sides of the screen seemed to have a great time, and the only real complaints I heard were that there were too many good things happening at once and people had to make a choice on which stream to watch.

Matthew: While many games had a tendency to overrun, I’d say they each ran to optimal length and didn’t cause too much disruption farther up the schedule.

RichT: Which are all good things to happen, actually, with your first online convention, so we’re going to review all the metrics we can gather ourselves and from the super folks at Gehenna Gaming, and see what we can learn from all that.

Will we do another one? We just don’t know yet, but whether we do or not, this one sure did what we wanted to do – folks who attended had a whole lot of fun! If you missed out and want to watch the games and panels, they are currently on the Onyx Path and Gehenna Gaming Twitch channels for subscribers, but will soon migrate over to the Onyx Path YouTube page for all to watch!

So, from all of us to all of you, whether you attended or didn’t, thanks for making it a real joy to walk with you exploring:

Many Worlds, One Path!

Blurbs!

Kickstarter!

The Legendlore Kickstarter funded right before we started the Virtual Con last week! A really great way to start things off! Now we’re building towards Stretch Goals: the GM’s Screen, and starting the Legendlore Companion book PDF!

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/339646881/legendlore-rpg-setting-for-5th-edition-fantasy-roleplaying-0

Grab your friends and escape to another world!

You’ve found an enchanted portal — a transition point — between worlds. The portal, called a Crossing, takes you to a world you thought only existed in novels and films: a magical land where dragons roam the skies, orcs and hobgoblins terrorize weary travelers, and unicorns prance through the forest. It is a world where humans join other peoples such as elves, trolls, dwarves, changelings, and the dreaded creatures who steal the night. It is a world of fantasy — of imagination.

It is the Realm.

It is Legendlore.

Onyx Path Media!

This week: the most exciting episode of the Onyx Pathcast ever, recorded live at the Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention!

As always, this Friday’s Onyx Pathcast will be on Podbean or your favorite podcast venue! https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/

Hi all!

We’ll be back next week with our usual promotion of all the excellent games on our Twitch and YouTube channels, but for now, we encourage you to do what it seems a lot of people are doing right now, and hop over to our Twitch: twitch.tv/theonyxpath

While the convention has ended, but subscribing to our Twitch channel (which you can do for free if you have Amazon Prime), you get access to all the panels and games that ran on it over the convention weekend. So, if you missed a panel or game you really wanted to watch, head on to our Twitch, subscribe, and browse our back catalogue!

Other than our content, we would like to promote a couple more games for those without Twitch:

Occultists Anonymous continue their excellent Mage: The Awakening game here:

Episode 106: Friends & Minions The cabal combats the uninvited guest summoned by an Exarchal Supernal Being. The danger of the Exarchal attention prompts further investigations away from the Supernal. https://youtu.be/YSErlwnC7Nc

Episode 107: Making Promises Songbird reaches out to the Queen of the Vampires of New York about a divine blessing. Wyrd and Atratus hatch a plan to make a car… https://youtu.be/dueYYUl0FrY

And A Bunch of Gamers have just started up a two-part extravaganza of They Came from Beneath the Sea! right here:

The Crabby Lizard from the Murkey Depths

Episode 1: In the small east coast town of Chatham Massachusetts things are easy. The soda pop shop is ready for any of the locals. The city comes together for a bake sale to help their neighbors, and everyone knows each other. All that changes when a strange electrical storm and a booming voice can be heard over the jukebox. Tonight, the strange, the horrid, the damp creatures from beyond the stars and the depths of the sea rise up to meet the people of Chatham.https://youtu.be/UwxzdwVoYQE

The Tabletop Almanac has released a lovely review of Legendlore that you’ll want to see! https://thetabletopalmanac.wordpress.com/2020/06/15/rpg-reviews-legendlore-manuscript-preview/

Please check these out and let us know if you find or produce any actual plays of our games! We’d love to feature you!

Electronic Gaming!

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is awesome! (Seriously, you need to roll 100 dice for Exalted? This app has you covered.)

On Amazon and Barnes & Noble!

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue from which you bought it. Reviews really, really help us get folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these latest fiction books:

Our Sales Partners!

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire and Monarchies of Mau out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there! https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

We’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Now, we’ve added Changeling: The Lost Second Edition products to Studio2‘s store! See them here: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/all-products/changeling-the-lost

Scion 2e books and other products are available now at Studio2: https://studio2publishing.com/blogs/new-releases/scion-second-edition-book-one-origin-now-available-at-your-local-retailer-or-online

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

And you can order Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and Changeling: The Lost 2e at the same link! And now Scion Origin and Scion Hero and Trinity Continuum Core and Trinity Continuum: Aeon are available to order!

As always, you can find Onyx Path’s titles at DriveThruRPG.com!

On Sale This Week!

Available this Wednesday, we are just a bit embarrassed to say that we’ll be releasing on DTRPG the PDF and PoD versions of Swine and Cheese Party, Et Al., excerpts from The Complete Duke Rollo, for Trinity Continuum: Aberrant!

Also available this Wednesday on DTRPG: the Advance PDF for Quantum Entanglement the Trinity Continuum: Aeon Jumpstart!

Conventions!

Though dates for physical conventions are subject to change due to the current COVID-19 outbreak, here’s what’s left of our current list of upcoming conventions (and really, we’re just waiting for this last one to be cancelled even though it’s Nov/Dec). Instead, keep an eye out here for more virtual conventions we’re going to be involved with:

PAX Unplugged: https://unplugged.paxsite.com/

And now, the new project status updates!

Development Status from Eddy Webb! (Projects in bold have changed status since last week.):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep.)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

Adversaries of the Righteous (Exalted 3rd Edition)

The Clades Companion (Deviant: The Renegades)

The Devoted Companion (Deviant: The Renegades)

Saints and Monsters (Scion 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Anima

CtL 2e Novella Collection: Hollow Courts (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

M20 Technocracy Operative’s Dossier (Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary)

Redlines

Dragon-Blooded Novella #2 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Hundred Devil’s Night Parade (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Novas Worldwide (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Exalted Essence Edition (Exalted 3rd Edition)

M20 Rich Bastard’s Guide To Magick (Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary)

V5 Children of the Blood (was The Faithful Undead) (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

V5 Forbidden Religions (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Wild Hunt (Scion 2nd Edition)

Second Draft

Many-Faced Strangers – Lunars Companion (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Kith and Kin (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Dearly Bleak – Novella (Deviant: The Renegades)

Mission Statements (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Contagion Chronicle Ready-Made Characters (Chronicles of Darkness)

Under Alien Suns (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

V5 Trails of Ash and Bone (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Adventure! core (Trinity Continuum: Adventure!)

Dead Man’s Rust (Scarred Lands)

Development

TC: Aberrant Reference Screen (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Contagion Chronicle: Global Outbreaks (Chronicles of Darkness)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Exigents (Exalted 3rd Edition)

N!ternational Wrestling Entertainment (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Assassins (Trinity Continuum Core)

Manuscript Approval

Crucible of Legends (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Post-Approval Development

Editing

Lunars Novella (Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Player’s Guide to the Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Contagion Chronicle Jumpstart (Chronicles of Darkness)

TC: Aberrant Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Trinity Continuum Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum)

Masks of the Mythos (Scion 2nd Edition)

LARP Rules (Scion 2nd Edition)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

The Book of Lasting Death (Mummy: The Curse 2e)

They Came From Beyond the Grave! (They Came From!)

Scion: Dragon (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion: Demigod (Scion 2nd Edition)

Post-Editing Development

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

W20 Shattered Dreams Gift Cards (Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th)

Cults of the Blood Gods (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Hunter: The Vigil 2e core (Hunter: The Vigil 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Monsters of the Deep (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

Pirates of Pugmire KS-Added Adventure (Realms of Pugmire)

Tales of Aquatic Terror (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Terra Firma (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

One Foot in the Grave Jumpstart (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2e)

Indexing

Art Direction from Mike Chaney!

In Art Direction

Scion Titanomachy – Art coming in.

Tales of Aquatic Terror

WoD Ghost Hunters (KS) – Prepping KS assets.

Aberrant – AD’d. First new comic in.

Hunter: The Vigil 2e

Mummy 2

Deviant – Dividing up among current artists.

Legendlore – KS running.

Technocracy Reloaded (KS)

Cults of the Blood God – Rolling along.

Scion: Dragon (KS) – Waiting on art notes.

Masks of the Mythos (KS) – Some tweaking to art notes and hiring artists.

Scion: Demigod (KS) – Tweaking art notes, hiring artists. Splats in progress.

They Came From Beyond the Grave! (KS) – Finals coming in.

TC: Adventure! (KS) – Cover art finishing.

In Layout

Yugman’s Guide to Ghelspad

Vigil Watch

TC Aeon Terra Firma

V5 Let the Streets Run Red

Pugmire Adventure

Proofing

Trinity Aeon Jumpstart – New artist taking care of finishing missing art.

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate – Finishing Backer PDF errata.

Contagion Chronicle – Going to WW for approval this week.

Cavaliers of Mars: City of the Towered Tombs

Magic Item Decks (Scarred Lands)

Yugman’s Guide Support Decks (Scarred Lands)

Dark Eras 2 Screen and booklet

At Press

Scion Companion – Shutting down errata.

TCFBTS Heroic Land Dwellers – Prepping PoD files.

TCFBTS Screen and Booklet – Files at press.

They Came from Beneath the Sea! – Files at press.

Creature Collection 5e – PoD files uploaded. Traditional files sent to printer.

Pirates of Pugmire – Files at press. Prepping files for PoD.

Pirates of Pugmire Screen – Files at press.

Duke Rollo Aberrant Book: Swine & Cheese Party – PDf and PoD versions on sale Wednesday on DTRPG.

Pugmire Buried Bones – Gathering errata.

Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition Dark Eras Compilation – Gathering errata.

Today’s Reason to Celebrate!

Today is feet up and dozing after the busy, busy, Virtual Con and celebrating its success!

#Onyx Path Publishing

0 notes

canities-saecularia · 5 years

Text

What Once Was Love

[ This is long, I apologize, but have a Solo on II’s past, and what caused him to become so bitter. ]

December 21st, 1829

Death lingered in the halls of the Abbey, creeping through shadows and lingering just around the corner, waiting to leap out and claim it’s next victim. Those chosen to be the sacrificial lamb during rituals, a sacred flock who clung to their Grucifixes, waiting for the blade to drop- they knew this fear well. It was a blessing to placed into that sacred, unholy flock.

Though, you never lasted long.

Thankfully, tonight was not a night to shed blood- not much, at least. The second Emeritus son, Cain, stood within his rooms, giddy, shifting from foot to foot with nervous energy. Behind him stood Vergil, the first born son, the future head of the Church. He was already dressed in his Unholy Vestments, prepared to lead the Ritual. An Unholy Baptism occurred regularly, but this was different. This was an Emeritus, a future Clergyman, or even a future head of the Church. This was a special day. He held his chin high as the Sister carefully tied his shirt- a loose cotton blouse with full bishop sleeves.

“You are prepared?” Vergil questioned softly, his head tilting to the side. Swaddled in dark blankets lay Dante, the youngest of them all. Three sons for current Papa; a good succession line. A strong succession line.

“Yes, fratellone.” He replied, flashing a charming smile at his brother in the large, ornate mirror. His hair had been freshly cut, falling to just above his shoulders in rich, honey brown waves- so much lighter compared to Vergil’s dark locks, or the dark mass of hair upon Dante’s little head.

Cain himself stood tall and strong. He easily stood at the same height of Vergil; it he were to straighten up a little more, perhaps a touch taller. Nihil never noticed- at least, not that Cain knew. Nihil didn’t speak to him much- really, Nihil didn’t have much to do with him at all. He couldn’t recall a single moment in his life where Nihil had shown outright pride for him- at least, not in a normal circumstance. He was proud when Cain had surpassed his mentor with the Bo staff; he had been proud when Cain had broken up Ghoul fight after Ghoul fight. But pride? Never.

Not like Vergil.

Vergil, who hovered like a mother hen, constantly looking over his shoulder and keeping an eye on him. Vergil, who had thrown himself in front of him to ward off an angry strike from Nihil many a time. Who had opened his arms for him when he’d scrapped his knees or his palms; who had wiped away his tears and chased away his nightmares. Vergil, who had always been more of a father to him than Nihil ever had been.

Vergil, who would be overseeing his Unholy Baptism, because Nihil was off fucking some whore, too busy delving into the sins of the flesh than to attend his own son’s Unholy Baptism.

“You remember what you must say?” Vergil asked softly, walking closer to brush stray hairs into their place. Cain hummed, watching the Sister as she sank to her knees to shine his shoes one last time. She was pretty, with hair the color of night and sapphire eyes full and shining.

“I do, fratellone. I’ve gone over it at least a hundred times by now,” he replied with a roll of his eyes and an easy smile. Below, the Sister let out a snort before quickly attempting to cover it with a cough.

“I worry, you know this.” Vergil placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You will do wonderfully. This is a, ah, very big day, yes? Am very proud of you.”

Cain nodded, suddenly unable to speak around the lump in his throat. Vergil gave him one last glance over before leaving quietly, cooing to little Dante.

“The First is a very nice man,” the Sister spoke softly after a moment, slowly rising to her feet.

“He is,” Cain agreed with a nod, watching as she stepped away. His gaze turned to his reflection, taking in the way the blouse hung from his shoulders, how the trousers clung to his legs. “You did very well, Sister.”

“Thank you.”

“I did not catch your name,” he turned, head titling to to the side, “may I learn it now?”

“Rosaline, sir.” She replied with a slight blush, ducking her head.

“Very fitting for a blushing Sister.” He teased, winking. Slowly he took a step back, squaring his shoulders. He could hear the heavy footsteps of his brother’s Ghouls coming. It was time. “I hope to see you afterwards at the celebration, Sister Rosaline.”

She met his gaze boldly, “You most certainly will.”

Cain couldn’t help but laugh.

June 18th, 1830

The air was filled with birdsong and the scent of summer. Cain lay beside Rosaline, his eyes closed, the sound of wind whispering through the tall grasses akin to music to his ears. Rosaline was braiding a crown of flowers for the Solstice in two days time. It was calm, peaceful- even if they were both shirking duties to lounge in the tall grass in the clearing. He would get chastised by Vergil later- but for now, he was comfortable.

“If Death came for me now, I would die happily,” he spoke softly, heterocrhomatic hues opening to glance towards Rosaline.

“Truly?” She asked, settling down to rest her head in the crook of his neck. “I do not think I would like to die, not yet. There is much I want to see, still.”

“Like what?”

“I want to see the sun rising over a snow capped village, I want to hear the sound of a waterfall, so loud that I cannot hear myself think. I want to visit Italy and see the countryside.” She trailed off, dropping her flower crown to wind her fingers with his own. “I want to see you become Papa one day.”

“I do not want to be Papa.” Cain shook his head, brow furrowing. “I am a bastard, Rosaline. I cannot be Papa!”

“Says who?”

“Nihil.”

“Your father, you mean?” She teased, pressing light kisses to his jaw line.

A snort left him as he shook his head. “He is not my father. Vergil has always been more of a father to me than him.”

“So you say…” She sighed, pushing herself up, a wince dancing across her face at the slight pain from their earlier activities came rushing back. “I need to go before we both end up in trouble.”

“Or we could…” He reached out, trailing his fingertips up along her arm.

She slapped his hand away. “No, no. No. We need to get back!”

“Then, do me this- meet me here on the Solstice. I have something to show you.”

“Show me now!”

“I cannot!” He laughed, shaking his head. “I cannot. It must wait!”

“Fine, fine. Be secretive!” She pushed herself to her feet, fixing her habit carefully. She didn’t veil- she never had. Many Sisters chose not to. He was glad she didn’t.

He reached out, pulling her into his arms for a tight, lingering embrace, his lips pressed to her temple. “It will be worth it, I promise.”

“We shall see!” She giggled as she pulled away, dancing and twirling through the tall grasses. In that moment, she was beautiful, young- dare he say, she resembled an angel, with the sun shining full and bright down upon her. His hand trailed to his pocket, fingering the metal ring there. It wasn’t much, merely a band…

But it would be enough.

June 20th, 1830 1:45 p.m.

She was late. The Abbey was bustling with activity, and Cain was waiting. Her stomach was tied in knots; her own Unholy Baptism was quickly approaching, and she would have to choose: remain here, or travel to another Abbey. As much as she wanted to stay-

She wanted adventure. She wanted to see the world. She wanted to explore. How could she tell him?

She rounded a corner, and froze. The sound of growls resonated through the hallway. Ghouls- fighting. A Ghoul fight. Oh, no. Someone needed to be told- but she couldn’t go back towards the Dorms, and if she backtracked to the main hall, she’d be late- even later than she currently was.

She had to go forward.

Clutching her Grucifix, she sent a quick Unholy Prayer to Lucifer for protection before shuffling into the hallway, clinging to the wall. The Ghouls were growling, chattering, talking in their infernal language that she could never hope to understand. She hesitated-

A mistake.

June 20th, 1830 1:50 p.m.

A Ghoul fight had broken out. A Brother of Sin had come to fetch him, out of breath and pale faced. Blood had already been spilled, and it seemed that more would come. He’d dropped the bottle of wine he’d been holding, ignoring the sound of shattering glass as he ran from the kitchen. The Siblings parted for him like the red sea as he and a Ghoul- one of his own that he’d summoned- ran side by side. He was an Earth Ghoul, strong. Alps, he’d called himself.

They rounded the corner, a scream ricocheting off the aged stone, and the blood in his veins ran cold. He skidded to a stop, watching as she fell, as blood sprayed across the stone walls, as her body fell limp.

He didn’t hear himself yell, but he must have, for a roar filled his ears. The Ghouls froze, looking at one another before at Cain. The Earth Ghoul took a step back; the Fire Ghoul lunged after him, kicking the now-lifeless body of Sister Rosaline. Cain rushed forward, slamming his shoulder into the Earth Ghoul, knocking the air from his body and sending him skidding across the floor. His hand darted out, gripping the Fire Ghoul around the windpipe- squeezing, squeezing, hidden claws coming free to pierce the thick gray skin. The Ghoul’s head bounced against the stone wall in a sickeningly wet way. Cain jerked his hand back, bringing the esophagus with him.

The Ghoul sank to his knees gripping at his throat, eyes wide in surprise and fear. Cain did not watch as he fell forward; he stalked towards the Earth Ghoul who was whimpering, begging for forgiveness. “She was innocent,” Cain growled, watching as the Ghoul flinched and curled in on himself. “She was innocent and mine. You killed her- LOOK WHAT YOU DID!” He roared, teeth bared, Glamour falling away to reveal the demonic nature that lingered below the surface. Elongated canines, sharpened incisors, sharpened onyx claws.

The Ghoul didn’t stand a chance as Cain struck out, claws tearing through his throat with deadly accuracy. Alps stood back, watching; behind him, he could hear Nomos and Umbra running closer, no doubt working on keeping Siblings back.

Vergil appeared with them, then, his eyes wide in horror at the sight. “Oh, fratellino…” He murmured, brushing past Alps to stand over Cain’s weeping form. He was kneeling in the blood of the Sister, clinging to her habit. “Nomos, Umbra- … Father?” He hesitated in giving his order, brows furrowing as Nihil examined the hallway. Blood splattered across the floor, dripped from the walls, pooled beneath bodies.

“Take the bodies away.” He ordered to his Ghouls, gaze trained upon his Bastard son. Vergil’s stomach clenched as anger filled his veins at the pure pleasure that lingered in Nihil’s gaze. Pleasure- at the carnage his son had created. At the chaos.

Nihil left without a word to Cain. Vergil bit his tongue as he helped his younger brother up, holding him close, letting him lean against him as he herded him towards his own room. If Nihil would not act as a father, then he would. And he did, setting Cain down onto the edge of his bed. He cleaned his hands of the Ghoul’s blood, washed his face. Held him as he sobbed, as he revealed the ring he’d planned on giving to the Sister.

“If I hadn’t told her to meet me,” he whimpered into Vergil’s shoulder, “if I hadn’t been so selfish, she would still be here.”

“No, no. You know that is not true.”

“It’s my fault.” Cain shook his head, hiccuping. For hours, they sat there, with Cain sobbing, blaming himself, and Vergil soothing him. As the night progressed, Cain settled into a silence that Vergil couldn’t even begin to attempt to break.

Vergil’s heart broke that night, and Cain’s heart shattered into too many pieces to try to put back together.

Come morning, Cain crept into the bathroom to bathe, and returned with a cleanly shaven head and a cold air about him.

Siblings would speak of that day in hushed whispers, talking of how Papa Emeritus the Second once used to smile, to laugh and joke and tease and flirt just like how the Third does. How his heart had been shattered into pieces one day, and turned to the stone that night.

#muse tag: jυѕт a мarιoneттe #musιngѕ; welcoмe year zero #Papa Emeritus II #the band ghost #history #;;this hurt to write i hope you all know

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geryreviews · 5 years

Text

Alex Verus: Fated

Book by Benedict Jacka

Review by Gery Hristova

Warning!: This review contains the usual random fanart and pointless comics done by me. Enjoy!

I wonder how explaining these books to people would go?

Ok, ok, I know people keep comparing Alex Verus to Harry Dresden. But you know what, now that I have finally read the first 7 books of the Dresden Files (thus becoming a specialist on the topic), I can safely say… I like Alex Verus a LOT LOT LOOOOT better.

Why?

EPIC MAGIC FIGHTS, POLITICS, COOL PLOT TWISTS, MAGIC EVERYWHERE, ONE LOVE-INTEREST, LONDON, PROTAGONIST IS A DIVINER AND IT’S AWESOME WHEN USED IN FIGHTS OR EVERYDAY LIFE, MAGIIIIIIIC!!!!

*continues fangirling for a few more minutes*

Ok, we all have reasons to resonate with some characters/stories more than others.

Me, personally, I adore books filled with more politics, action scenes, magic fights and …ONE LOVE-INTEREST! Ok, it doesn’t have to be ONE, but definitely not every single person with boobs that happens to pass near the main hero!

Back to the point …I mean, back to the~

REVIEW!

THE SETTING

Best way to describe the series...

Don’t expect police investigations or crime stories involving vampires, fairies, werewolves and others. Nor is the protagonist a powerful avatar, able to use all types of magic through martial arts.

But the world IS secretly inhabited by mages who have their own governing system. AND each mage can only use one type of magic…hmmm, maybe Dresden Files+X-men.

Types of Magicians

Cinder - fire mage, Anne-life mage and Sonder-time mage

You have the most common Elemental Mages who can use powers such as air, fire, water, lightning, force, etc.

Living Mages are mages who can affect living things (either to influence their mind, heal/mess up their bodies, etc)

And the final, rarest and strangest of them all are the Universal Mages - they can affect time, space, chance, they can see the past or the present, etc.

Anyways, most mages belong either to the Light or the Dark ...faction.

Levstas - a Light Mind Mage

Both factions can be equally evil and cruel (it's only a matter of whether you feel the need to hide the bodies or brag about them). There is a constant struggle for power and status, even among the Light mages. Therefore, enlisting/enslaving/black-mailing useful minions is a great pass-time for the big players in the magical society.

And having someone who can see the future in your team can be highly profitable.

THE PROTAGONIST

Alex Verus is a diviner. No, he cannot shoot deadly bullets made of air, disintegrate you with a touch or anything as flashy, but he can come up with other creative ways to hurt you if he feels like it and annoy the crap out of you while he's at it. This rare type of mages specializes in information- they can learn any new skills instantly just by checking into the future in which they've spent hours/days studying them; they can find out any dark secrets about you if they put their mind into it; they are hard to surprise, hard to kill and hard to be found if they don't want to be found. Random chances and free will limit the certainty of their predictions, but Diviners are the best at exploiting any situation to fit their needs.

THE PLOT

Nevertheless, being a neutral mage (not belonging to either the Dark or the Light faction), means that Alex Verus has plenty of time to mind his own business (a small shop selling books, herbs and other "magical" thing-a-ma-bobs), advise any confused novices and, of course, look through the future for the fun of it...sometimes resulting in answering his customers' questions before they even ask them.

Alex's peaceful and predictable life comes to an end when he becomes the centre of attention for major players in the magical world. They all have one thing in common - they need a diviner (who hasn't gone into hiding yet) to retrieve an ancient, seemingly-impossible-to-get, artefact. Corrupt Council members, powerful Dark Mages, dangerous acquaintances from his past, are just a few of the new additions to Alex's list of people-to-avoid-at-any-cost. The only question is: should he run or will his curiosity be the death of him.<spoiler>(the fact that there is a sequel, gives it away, I suppose.</spoiler>

WHAT BOTHERED ME IN BOOK 1 AND DOES IT IMPROVE?

-LUNAAAAA - One of Alex's few friends, an adept with a very dangerous ability, Luna is one of the main reasons readers can decide to turn away from the series. GOOD NEWS - she doesn't stay a useless wimp for long (only in the first 2 books). And neither does Alex keep treating her like a pet dog. XD

-Illogical deisions- The first book has a few, which I didn't notice during my first read (cause I was having too much fun!)

WHAT I REALLY REALLY LIKE!

Alex vs Onyx - All you need to know is that Onyx is a Dark Force Mage who absolutely despises Alex! Every scene where these two interact or fight with each other are priceless!

Romance - It's not Luna. Rather slow (it takes a few books until you even realize there is one), but worth it! One of my favourite fictional couples of all time!

And Morden...I like Morden too...how many fanarts did I do?

AUDIOBOOKS

The audiobooks are pretty good! It took me a bit of time to get used to the narrator's style since I read the first five books myself and had different voices for the characters, but other than that I have no major complaints.

COVERS

"I LOVE THE BRITISH ONES!" is what I would've said before THIS HAPPENED!

WHY PUBLISHER!!! WHYYYYYY! Now I need to buy the new ones as well in order to have matching covers…you’re so cruel…

I like the new ones too...

WEBSITE AND EXTRAS:

There is a WHOLE encyclopedia regarding the Alex Verus's world! Definitely worth checking out if you're a fan.

CONCLUSION:

Despite having read a HUUUUUGE amount of Urban Fantasies featuring male mages as protagonists, there's something about the Alex Verus series that totally captivates me: maybe it's the awesome divination magic that is used in a super creative fashion; maybe it's the world-building that might seem limited compared to other books, but it's very well-thought-out, detailed and believable; maybe it's Alex himself. Whatever it is, I consider Alex Verus to be one of my top 10 favourite series of all time (and top 3 favourite Urban Fantasy series)

Will I recommend to friends: if you enjoy Urban Fantasy, then definitely YES! Paperback, Hardback or Audiobook: Paperbacks are perfect (wait for the new covers to come out if you're living in the UK). Audiobooks are great too, but it took me some time getting used to the narrator. Nevertheless, still worth buying and highly enjoyable!

RECOMMENDATIONS

Here are some other similar Urban Fantasy series:

Dresden Files - DUH! Ok, half of the readers adore it, the other half hate it with passion! I tend to deviate between the two. Crime/Mystery/Urban Fantasy.

Iron Druid - Focuses more on pagan deities (Celtic, Norse, Slavic), fairies and other mythical creatures. Couldn’t get into it, but it’s the second most popular one, so…

Peter Grant -Very different and original. The style wasn’t my thing, but if you’re looking for a Fantasy/Crime book with an English twist, then go for it.

Daniel Faust - More of an anti-hero, a lot darker and gorier than the rest. Barely any magic though…

Prof Croft - A Harry Dresden Fanfiction :D that I enjoyed more than the majority of Harry’s books! Nevertheless, lots of similarities with the Dresden Files…

Happy Reading!

#Alex Verus #Benedict Jacka #Gery #Reviews #Fanart #Book review #Fated #books #Urban Fantasy #Gery Reviews #Review #Illustration #Diviner #book lover #booktube #Mage #Magician #Fantasy book

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1d-sexualdesires · 6 years

Text

Happy Halloween!

“Harry, is this even allowed?”

Or Harry is a prince, Y/N is a fairy, and he’s kind of in love with her.

There is a dimension to this world that many aren’t privy of seeing. A lot like Harry Potter’s wizarding world, there are portals or ways of getting to see the alternate existence. She lives in this world, she’s a fairy, all the females in her family were fairies and they had the fortune of working for royalty. Well, they technically made them royalty because out of all the people in the world who were bound to fairies, Anne’s family had always been one of the most gracious and kind. Some fairies had it bad, their masters were ruthless and exploitive, but that wasn’t the case for her family, ever. Fairies cannot change masters either, so once your family is bound to one you will be in each other’s lives forever, unless they turn you away, it’s a generational thing.

For example, Y/N’s great, great, great, great grandmother found Anne’s great, great, great grandfather in the woods one day. His horse had slid off the road and he was hurt, if he didn’t get out surely he would be eaten off by wolves. So she helped him, she mended his leg and sent him home. He came to look for her every chance he got because he wanted to say thank you, it was for a good year or so and she was just giving him really good fortune for his gratitude. He was emerging as a leader, but that didn’t change his gratefulness and humility, so she revealed herself to him once more and he took her home to his wife and kids and she just kept showing up and being helpful. The future generations are then taught that the fairy is like a nanny, she helps and has special abilities. Humans bond emotionally to them, like they would a friend and if the fairy feels the same affection, they can bind to their families. So, several generations later Y/N’s mum has started working at their palace, as her mom has retired from her duties.

“Hello darling, how are you today?” Anne greets as Y/N comes in with a tray of her breakfast.

“I am doing pretty well! How about you?” she asks as she sets everything down before her.

“I’m also doing well. Just getting busy preparing for this coronation.” She sighed and Y/N nodded.

“Gemma will be a great queen.” Y/N assured her.

“No doubt about that!” Anne smiled.

“Speaking of the coronation. Harry seems to have grown another foot in the last year,” she exaggerated, “could you please fit him and sew him a new suit for the ball when you have time?” She asked and Y/N nodded.

“Yes, of course I can. I was just going to draw up some menu samples for you and Gemma today.” Y/N said.

“Alright, let’s do that another time and just have you work on that suit. He is in desperate need for one. Don’t know what he was wearing off in university, you should see how ragged his clothes are.” Anne said, brows raised as if still surprised and Y/N just giggled.

“I’ll go do that.” She said heading out of the room.

“He’s at the stables!” She called out and so Y/N headed out there.

Her and Harry grew up together, just like Anne and her mom grew up together. So as kids they would play and got tutored together and went to the same schools, but since Y/N was a fairy and not everyone knew that, she tended to be a bit more of an outcast, but he was always very inclusive of her. So when he left to university and they lost some touch it was a bit sad, but he returned earlier in the summer with his Master’s degree and was back at the castle for good. But their friendship had been affected by the years.

“Harry?” Y/N called into the stable, when she wasn’t busy she would spend lots of time with the horses too, they were cute.

“I’m with Onyx!” He called out and she headed over to his horse’s pen, sure enough he was there, brushing her after their morning ride. That horse loved Harry, so much so that she got depressed when he was gone for a week, they had to transport her to a ranch near the city so that Harry could visit her. “Hey, Y/N.” He said looking up from Onyx.

“Hey.” She said, petting at Onyx’s muzzle gently, “Your mom said you need a new suit and I’m supposed to make it for you. When can you get fitted?” She asked.

“Like an hour? Need to shower and have some breakfast, m’starving.” He said and she smiled, her helpful nature shining through.

“Do you want something in particular, I can go prepare it?” She asked and he hummed.

“Yeah, I want one of those big breakfast plates from that diner in the village.”

“Oh, alright. Should I go get it?” She asked and he poked out from around Onyx.

“No, I can go. Give me twenty minutes and you can come and I’ll buy?” he said smiling and she shrugged.

“Deal.”

Alright.” He said, patting at Onyx’s back before hurrying out of the stable.

Y/N didn’t like Harry, she just thought he turned out rather attractive. I mean, his parents are beautiful people, obviously he would be attractive, but man as soon as he turned 18 he became as beautiful as an angel. She sighed, snapping her fingers and appeared in her bedroom where she freshened up, went to tell Anne she was off to breakfast with Harry, and that they’d fit him as soon as they got back.

Harry however, did like Y/N. He thought she was gorgeous and not having her be able to come to university was a pain for a long while. His liking towards her had diminished to a crush, but never fully went away. Some part of him was convinced that she had cast some spell on him. But she just seemed professional around him now, their friendship hadn’t been maintained. After being home for a few months he figured it was time to change that.

****

“This place I missed the most.” He said and she smiled, letting him take a sip of his coffee. “Remember, we would come here after school all the time?” He asked and Y/N nodded.

“Oh, I remember.” She said and he chuckled.

“So, you still seeing that Roger, fellow?” He asked and she shook her head.

“He wanted to get married already. I’m only 24, I’ll stop aging at 30… people aren’t as understanding anymore. I’m just not ready.”

“He didn’t know?” Harry said softly and she shook her head.

“I tried to tell him a few times… but it just never seemed to work out so I ended it.”

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” He asked and she shrugged.

“Seems harder now and besides, I’ve got you guys. Practically a leech, but my magic tricks come in handy, no?” She said grinning and he nodded, smiling at her sweetly. She looked down into her mug, stirring slowly.

Harry took the moment to appreciate her, she was beautiful. Her eyes were crinkled at the corners from her smile and she looked so soft in her oversized sweater, he just wanted to stand up, slide into her side of the booth and hug her.

“Just out of curiosity,” he started, causing her to glance up, “can the bond between your family and mine, can it end? Or break?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yeah, fairies bond for life, even romantically. So if one day you just wanted to get rid of me you just need to tell me you don’t want me anymore.” She informed.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” She repeated and he nodded in understanding, “but don’t go getting any ideas, Harry.” She warned and he smiled.

“Trust me, I don’t want you gone ever.” He said genuinely. That made Y/N’s heart feel warm and full. Not even a minute later they had brought them their food and Harry impatiently scarfed it down.

****

“Hold still!”

“If you fucking poke me-”

“If you don’t hold still I guarantee you will get poked.” Y/N warned.

“Y/N, you’re making me nervous.” Harry said softly. She was currently fitting him into the pants for his new suit. Harry’s issue was that she was working on his inner thigh.

“Have I ever poked you or anyone in your family before?” She asked, bunching up the excess fabric.

“There’s a first time for everything!” He said looking down at her, and it really did something to him to see her kneeling, face level with his prick and her hands at his thigh. “Fuck me.” He mumbled because of that and she scoffed.

“Keep it up and I will poke you on purpose!” She warned and he bit his lip, he was really trying to stop his cock from budging up, “M’almost done.” She assured him, literally not even a minute later she was pressing herself back up to her feet and she inspected her work before looking to him. “How do they feel now? Not too tight?” She asked and he shook his head.

“They feel really good.” He nodded.

“Tighter fits look really nice on you, I must say. Also, burgundy is a very nice color on you.” She complimented and he smiled proudly.

“Thanks, I’m glad you dissuaded me from sticking to black. I like this a lot.” He said looking himself over in the three-face mirror as Y/N looked on.

“For the jacket, I’m going to add some beading, just at the cuff, it’ll be great!” She said and he nodded.

“I like that idea.” He said and she smiled.

“Good! I should be done with it later today, I’ll drop by for the final fitting?” She said and he nodded. “Now let me help you out of the pants.” She said, dropping to her knees once more.

“Y’know, s’good that you didn’t go into sewing, you’d have everyone out of business considering it only took you a few days to get a whole suit together.” He said and she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Right, it would be like cheating.” She said, humoring him. Soon he was off and she went back to doing what she did best.

****

It was unintentional. An accident, but before she could hear or see anything else she had snapped her fingers and appeared in her room.

“Oh my god…” she whispered, her hands flying up to her face, but closing her eyes only made it worse. She could see far more, her mind burning with images of him groaning, fist moving lethargically over himself as his head fell back. If she had just stayed still and not knocked over that lamp maybe he wouldn’t have noticed her and she could have just disappeared quietly. “Fuck, fuck…” she shook her head, trying to magically get rid of the images. But he was so pretty and his prick was big. Y/N was a virgin, but she had done other things, just not sex. Sex was sealing the deal with her partner for life, that’s just how it worked for fairies and it had been a while since Y/N had been with anyone, so the hunger was there. Suddenly there were knocks on her door and she knew exactly who it was. “Oh jeez…” she whined quietly, pacing for a few seconds.

“I know you’re in there, Y/N…” she heard Harry through the door.

“Just gi-gimme a sec!” She called out, draping his suit over an armchair and taking a deep breath before heading for the door and opening it up a smidge. “Yeah?” She asked, barely poking her head through.

“I’m sorry.” He said quickly and she glanced down, not necessarily at his lower area, but it was on the way and she could see that it was still fairly hard, she bit her lip, darting her eyes to the ground.

“No, I’m sorry. I assumed you weren’t in there when you didn’t respond.” She said, eyes darting to his hand and then finally up to his eyes and he was wearing a smug smirk all of a sudden.

“Oh my god.” He said softly, smirk still painted on his face and her eyes widened.

“What?”

“I turned you on.” He said confidently and she rolled her eyes.

“No, you didn’t I just can’t… unsee it. Also, who the hell wears noise-cancelling headphones when they’re getting themselves off and expecting someone!” She said shaking her head and he chuckled.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so fast!” He defended.

“I was altering the suit, not making a new one, Harry…” she said shaking her head, eyes closed, the images still playing in her mind, her face was flushing pink.

“Could’ve been worse, could’ve been Gem or my mum. That would’ve been weird.” He said and she sighed.

“Are you done?” She asked and he shook his head.

“Need to try on my suit, no?” He asked.

“Maybe later when you’re not… you know?” She said, eyes not leaving his. She could feel the tension, his eyes fixing on her lips. She was flustered as hell and he loved it, if only she knew that having her on her knees, so close to his prick was what had him wanking off to some conjured up images of him, heavy and thick between her lips.

“I’d really like to try it on now, if you don’t mind.” He said, leaning on the doorframe, making it clear that he wasn’t going to go unless she really wanted him to disappear. Y/N wasn’t sure that she even wanted him to go, she had seen a lot.

“Harry…” she said warningly, he was looking at her with these hungry eyes and she could feel his energy changing to something heavier and more tense.

“Please, I really want to try it on now.” He said and she was weak and opened up further. He stepped in and gently leaned against the door, clicking it shut. She was only a few steps away from him, so he simply stretched his arms out and looped them around her waist, pulling her closer. She could feel him, stiff and warm against her hip, her eyes fluttering shut as he pressed her closer. “You’re fucking dripping for me aren’t you?” He whispered and she nodded shamelessly, looking up into his eyes. “Do you want me to do something about it, Y/N?” He asked her. Y/N looked completely torn; she should say no. He’s her boss basically, her friend. But she also wanted to say yes because he was beautiful and his hands were so big. She didn’t have to sleep with him, she could just get something else from him and return the favor.

“We can’t have sex.” She said quietly and he nodded in agreement, “and just this once, okay?” She asked, looking into his eyes.

“Okay, no sex and just this once.” He agreed. In a mere matter of seconds their lips collided and he getting comfy on the bed, sweats balled up at his ankles with Y/N kneeled between his legs as her soft hand wrapped around his cock, stroking gently, thumb rubbing at his sensitive tip.

“F-fuck, thas’real good.” He groaned when her lips wrapped around the head. His head rolled back as she sunk lower onto him, his fingers tangling into her hair, watching her cheeks hollowed out with the pressure of her sucking at his hard cock. “Oh fuck, keep going like that.” He muttered breathlessly, jolting a bit when her hand fondled his balls, “Yes, Y/N. M’gonna cum if you keep that up.” He warned. Her tongue was dipping into his slit, tasting his pre-cum and loving the headiness of it on her tongue. She picked up her pace and brought up her other hand to tug at the bottom half of his cock as she focused on stimulating the top half with her tongue. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.” He mewled as her tongue rubbed tirelessly against his slit and then sucked hard at him, one of her thumbs rubbed down the prominent vein that ran along his prick before picking up her speed and stroking him fast, “M’gonna cum, fuck!” He moaned to warn her, but she sank lower onto him and she felt his balls twitch in her hands and then he was bursting in her mouth and she was swallowing his mess down greedily. His eyes were screwed shut and his jaw slack, fingers tangled in her hair, gripping hard as he pressed his cock further into her mouth.

When he had finished she sucked at him so gently, his toes curling at the sensitivity and then she let her warm palm encircle him as he throbbed. Y/N pulled off and kissed at his thighs and his eyes fell shut once more when he felt her warm tongue lick at his balls before sucking one into her mouth gently. He hissed before it formed into a moan as she sucked a bit more, the sensitivity causing the action to be borderline painful, but it felt so good, his cock wanted to get hard for her all over again.

“Please.” He mewled. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to make him cum again or to stop.

He was sure she could coax another out of him. He was only a little disappointed when she pulled away from him and glanced up at him. He couldn’t wait to make her come, the look in her eyes told him that she was more than ready for him to reciprocate. “Best blowie I’ve ever had.” He mumbled, pulling her up off the ground and then smashing his lips into hers. He moaned at the taste of him on her tongue. He quickly was hovering over her, gently rubbing his fingers against the fabric of her knickers.

“Thanks for wearing a dress today.” He smirked and she moaned as he added pressure, really going at her clit.

“Please, Harry. I need t’cum.” She begged and he kissed her hard, relishing in the warmth of her mouth before pulling back.

“Okay, I’ll make you cum.” He said. He quickly removed her underwear and pushed her dress up to her tummy before letting his fingers slip past her folds until he felt where she was soaking for him and she moaned. Her head was thrown back, exposing her neck allowing him to kiss at the tender skin. “Do you want my fingers?” He asked and she nodded.

“Please, Harry. Need something inside.” She whimpered as he rubbed at her clit.

“I also want t’taste you. Bet you’re fucking delicious.” He mumbled against the column of her throat before kissing and nibbling at the little patch of skin.

“Both, please. Do both.” She begged and he smiled.

“Since you made me cum so fucking hard-”

“And I swallowed.” She added in a small voice and he hummed.

“That’s right. You were so fucking good for me. Such a good girl for me that I’ll give you both.” He decided and he kissed her lips hard for a few seconds and then pulled back.

“Thank you.” She whispered as he made his way down her body until he was level with her pussy.

“Fuck, you look so pretty all slick and ready fo’me.” He said and she moaned. She didn’t think she could be anymore turned on, but then he took her by the thighs and spread her open a little wider, pressing her knees up a bit until she felt his warm breath right on her skin. “Ready?” He asked and she groaned.

“Yes, please.”

Without another work he split her slips and opened up, the flat of his tongue pressed to her entrance and smeared up to her clit, when he sucked on the little bud, making her legs jolt. Her moans and whimpers were so pretty and delicate, she was trying to keep quiet. She was a bit successful until she felt his fingers rubbing against her arousal.

“Gonna go with two, okay?”

“Okay.” She mumbled. Her heart was pounding out of her chest at she felt his digits rubbing at her entrance.

“Gonna make you feel as good as you made me feel.” He assured her before licking at her clit again and then suddenly pushing his fingers into her.

“Mmm, Harry!” She whimpered, back arching as he curled them up and rubbed as he pushed them in and out at a moderate pace, her whimpers were louder when he’d push back in harshly. Her thighs were trembling because her was rubbing right onto her g-spot and the licks he was giving her clit had her seeing stars. She started squeezing around his fingers, her moans increasing in volume and frequency as the knot in her tummy started to become unbearable.

“You’re close aren’t you?” He asked and she nodded, “Good. Squeezing so fucking hard. Shit you’re so tight.” He groaned, replacing his tongue with his thumb on her clit and rubbing at her little button until her breath hitched and her hips chased his hand when it pulled away. He held her hips down with his free hand and pounded his fingers into her quickly as her cum coated his fingers, leaving them all warm and sticky. He was shuddered as he worked her through, little whimpers leaving her as his thumb slowly came to a halt. He swirled his fingers around as he slowly pulled them out, causing Y/N to moan and he grinned, loving as they came out shiny and sticky with her, and then sinking them into his mouth, humming at the taste, she sat up, watching him. Cheeks hollowed out and eyes closed as he cleaned his fingers off. “M’not done.” He said when she started moving towards the edge of her bed, “Need t’clean you up.” He said quietly, pushing her back a bit until she was leaning on her elbows, looking down at him, brow furrowed and lips in a pout as his tongue lapped against her folds greedily, then she felt him at her clit again, the sensitive little bud was throbbing against his warm tongue, the back and forth pattern suddenly halted with a rough suck that made one of her hands grip onto the curls on the top of his head.

“Be gentle.” She pleaded and he hummed against her, releasing her clit from the harsh suck and she was wet all over again, his chin was sticky with it and his lips swollen from French kissing her pretty little cunt. Suddenly he started licking at her clit in a very interesting pattern that had her legs trebling again. Her chest was heaving and she moaned his name as she came undone once more, then he lapped her up once again and finally moved back up to her, kissing her lips chastely.

“Satisfied, love?” He asked, patting at her swollen and sensitive pussy three times before pulling back to see Y/N nodded, her eyes closed and a smile set on her face. “The last orgasm, made you cum by spelling my name.” He grinned smugly and she giggled.

“Well it worked.” She whispered tiredly and he smiled, “Thanks. I really needed that.” She said.

“Yeah, me too. It’s a right shame it’s a one time thing.” He mumbled sadly.

*****

It was not a one time thing. Over the course of a few weeks Harry and Y/N had managed to fool around at least twice a week. He doesn’t think he could ever get tired of the way she made him come with her mouth. But also, there was this one time where he was working on his sister’s coronation speech and Y/N came in to bring him his dinner and he pulled her onto his lap and they dry humped until he had cum an unbelievable amount in his pants. There was also that time where she had been preparing breakfast and he ate her soaked little peach while she clung to the counter for dear life. But he’s not sure if either of those times beat the time where he took her into town because she needed to buy fabric and of course, on the way back they made a detour to a secluded spot and he finger fucked her until her little cunt was squirting cum for him.

Those are the things he thought of as he groaned and came hard all over his fist and onto the shower floor, the warm water washing away any evidence of his activities. Harry liked this part of Y/N, but it left part of him wondering about who she was now. Sure, they had been great friends in school, but then he left and they grew into adults and became different people. That’s what drove him into the kitchen as she had some dishes being washed magically as she chopped some potatoes.

“I can’t right now, Harry.” She said, not even having to look up to see if it was actually him. She had learned to read his presence. She was growing a fondness over him that was dangerous. She couldn’t less herself fall for him because then she’d want to sleep with him and her heart would be tethered to his forever and he might not even want her like that and that would break her.

“I wanted to know what your favorite song is.” he said and she sighed.

“Why?” She asked, finally looking up and he was wearing a lovely, dimpled smile.

“Because, I don’t really know much about you anymore except for the fact that I know were your g-spot is and I really don’t like that.” He said and she giggled around a scoff.

“Well, why do you need to know?” She inquired and he shrugged.

“Just want to know.” He said and she decided to humor him.

“Right now my favorite song is Wouldn’t It Be Nice. I watched 50 First Dates the other day and I can’t stop listening to it.” She said, focused on chopping the potatoes, too focused to see him smiling fondly at her.

“Good choice… song and film.” She hummed in acknowledgement, “And what about color? Mine is-”

“Pink.” She said and his brows arched, surprised she knew, “Mine is also pink.” She disclosed, smiling up at him.

“Pink is really pretty, just reminds me of the spring time and sunrises.” He said and she smiled.

“Yeah, it’s very cute.” She agreed and he smiled.

“Mmmm, what are some of your hobbies?” He asked and she glanced up.

“What’s this about?” She said and he walked further into the kitchen, grabbing a knife and cutting board and taking one of the bell peppers beside her.

“Told you, I want to get to know you better.” He said, “Now what are your hobbies? And how do you want these cut?” He asked, she was more than endeared. He was so charming and it was hard not to swoon in Harry’s presence, he just did things to people.

“Just dice’em. And uhhh… I like to cook, relaxes me a lot. I love to read as well, and uh… well no one knows this but I have an Etsy store an sell soaps, candles, and lipbalms. I love doing that.” She confessed and he smiled brightly at her.

“Ummm, you know how much I love candles right? When are you going to make me a lavender one?” He asked and she giggled.

“If you really want one I will make you one.” She said and he scoffed.

“Ummm, of course I want one!”

“Alright then, I’ll personally deliver it tomorrow.” She said and he was beaming.

“Alright then.” He repeated.

****

Harry’s mouth was dry, his heart was pounding erratically and his spirits were crushed because he wanted Y/N. He had started spending more time with her and he really was falling for her. He loved spending time with her and talking to her and he loved helping her make her soaps and candles and visiting with her mom. He had fallen for her, he wasn’t even sure what was going to come of it, but it was too late. His whole heart was hers for the taking, so hearing that Gemma’s pre-coronation ball would be when he was to meet a princess that he was supposed to wed he was upset.

“I thought since I’m technically second in line as of now I didn’t need to worry about this!” Harry exclaimed, he was angry.

“Darling, it doesn’t mater if you’re third or fourth in line, you need to marry someone who is going to help us out!” Anne reasoned and he groaned.

“You didn’t marry royal!” He argued and she sighed.

“Which is why your father and I had to annul, Harry. I got remarried, luckily to someone I was interested in after everything, you know that.”

“What if I don’t like her? What if she’s daft and scary-looking or crazy?” He asked and Anne rolled her eyes at his dramatic behavior.

“I can assure you, Harry, she’s pretty and smart and not crazy. I’ve met the girl myself and she’s lovely. She can’t wait to meet you next week.” Anne said and he just stormed out of her study. His heart felt heavy and it hurt to know that maybe having something, anything with Y/N would never be possible.

Meanwhile, Y/N was working on the menu for the pre-coronation ball, but she felt off, upset even. Something was wrong, she could feel it, it was Harry. She had spent so much time with him and maybe she had gotten too careless, but she was falling for him. She yearned to be around him and she could feel everything he felt and when they were together it was a bliss like she’d never known. But right now something was wrong; the feeling grew heavier when he walked into the kitchen, anguish and betrayal written all over his face and she frowned.

“What is it?” She asked and he sighed, just walking up to her and kissing her with everything good he could muster up, masking some of the hurt they were both feeling now and alleviating it for a moment, until he pulled away his forehead resting on hers, his lips kissing the tip of her nose and then sighing.

“Nothing, just an argument with mum.” He said and she knew he was lying, but maybe he wasn’t ready to say.

“What can I do to make it better?” She asked and he sighed.

“Let’s go for a ride, yeah? Next week we’ll both be to our ears in coronation prep.” He said and she nodded. Taking his hand and snapping, both of them appearing in the stables. “I still think it’s cool you can do that.” He said smiling, feeling a lot more relaxed then when they were in the kitchen and she smiled.

“It is is pretty sick.” She agreed and let him prep the horses.

Y/N found that she could do a lot of things with Harry, not just teleport him. She could read his mind if she really concentrated, but she would never, that was private. It just happened once on accident when she was taking him in, he just looked so beautiful and she wanted to remember the moment forever, so she was focusing on every detail and then she heard it, clear as day. He was thinking about eating lunch, and then as if on cue he asked if she wanted to go have some lunch, she knew exactly what he was craving too. Y/N could also take some of his pain, and even protect him the way she could protect herself from harm. These were tell-tale signs of a forming bond. She was worried, because on an emotional level and physical to some degree, her heart was slowly becoming his. She wasn’t even sure if it was allowed, but it was happening and she hadn’t told anyone.

******

“We can’t have sex.” Y/N sighed tiredly and Harry huffed. He wanted her, wanted her so fucking bad it hurt. His heart ached to connect with her that way.

“Baby, I know, but I just want you so bad.” He whined, kissing her forehead.

“Me too, but we just can’t.” She groaned and he pouted.

“You know that I love you right? That you mean everything to me?” He asked and she nodded.

“I do too, believe me, Har. But we can’t, okay?” She said and he groaned.

“Why not?” He asked like a pouty child and she sighed, sitting up from his bed.

“My kind… we bond for life. We can only have sex with one person- trust me, I want to, so badly because I love you more than I can express, but if for some reason you don’t want me one day-”

“Impossible.” He interrupted and she sighed.

“This is serious, Harry. I will never love again, Harry. Already, I feel tethered to your heart, imagine a physical act of love and unity? I don’t know what I’d do if we did it and I couldn’t have you ever again.” She said sadly and that’s why he simply said ‘Okay, baby’. Because in a few days he would be meeting his future wife and as much as his heart wanted it to be Y/N, it wasn’t going to be her.

******

“You look incredible.” Y/N said as she finished zipping up Gemma’s ball gown. It was a champagne colored ball gown that was a beautiful, fitted, off the shoulder lace top, with rhinestones, crystals, and beading that became sparse as it transitioned into the blown up tulle and chiffon skirt.

“Thank you so much, I love it. It’s exactly what I hoped it would be.” She said looking to Y/N through the mirror.

“I’m glad.” She said and Gemma sighed, for a moment she saw a little pain in her eyes. Then a heavy feeling settled over her heart, something was wrong.

“Y/N, just know that we all love you, so, so much. We’re all so grateful for you.” She said and Y/N smiled, hiding the inner turmoil she was in because something was definitely wrong. Once Gemma was ready and her tiara was placed on her head Y/N left to get into her gown. She would be attending the ball as a family friend, Anne wouldn’t have it another way.

So while Y/N wanted to go all out and look beautiful for herself and for Harry, she chose to create something subtle and simple. She was more than surprised when Anne let her borrow her jewelry; she chose some antique garnet drop earrings set in silver, they were the perfect pop to her simple, silver colored silk gown, also off the shoulder, and a-line. She had never felt more beautiful in her life, but still something wasn’t right.

Although she was a guest, she was still busy and working, making sure everything was running smoothly. The servers were passing around her hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes, so all seemed well and she decided to finally join the celebration. She looked around the room to find someone she knew and she spotted Harry. Y/N was about to make her way over when the crowd conveniently parted and she saw him speaking very animatedly to a gorgeous girl. Focusing hard on trying to read his expression she tuned in to his mind accidentally and her heart shattered when she heard the words: This is the woman I’m going to marry.

She wasn’t sure what to think, but all she could do was feel hurt; he said not even a week ago that he loved her. Maybe she stared a bit too long, but he looked over from his conversation partner for a moment and did a double take when he saw her, he smiled at her from a distance, not really able to look away once he noticed her. Y/N couldn’t really handle this, she couldn’t be here anymore. Her eyes were welling up with tears of sadness and betrayal and she turned around quickly and bumped into someone, he was tall. Taller than Harry and he smiled at her warmly and she returned the gesture out of politeness, but then he opened his mouth.

“Would you like to dance?”

****

Harry was hot. He was chatting with one of the most beautiful and intelligent girl’s he’s met in his life, a girl he’s supposed to marry, but can’t. He saw Y/N, and a minute later she’s pressed up against his mother’s adviser’s son, Aaron. He’s a right prick, a womanizer, a player… but there he is, swaying Y/N back and forth on the dance floor. If looks could kill he’d be dead. She’s smiling, she seems to be okay, but he can’t help but rudely excuse himself from the conversation with princess Clara is to go and tap on Aaron’s shoulder as the song comes to and end.

“May I cut in?” He asks and Aaron looks irritated, because he knows Harry doesn’t like him much and it seems that he’s sabotaging his chances with this girl on his arm, but he is the fucking prince and his father would have his head for refusing a royal, so he stomps off and Harry sweeps Y/N into his arms, swaying her gently as another song starts up. To his surprise and dismay, she’s silent. “Are you alright?” He finally asks.

“Why are you here?” She asks coldly, but softly, looking into his eyes.

“Aaron is a prick and you look breathtaking tonight.” He says simply and she huffs.

“This can’t happen… your mom is talking to your friend she seems upset. Well, they both do.” Y/N informed him as both Anne and the girl watched on and Y/N smiled softly at Anne, who returned her gesture before tuning to the girl. Probably informing the beautiful young woman that Y/N was just a good friend and she had nothing to worry about.

“I’m supposed to marry her.” He said suddenly and Y/N paused, causing him to stumble a bit and as he regained his balance she took off quickly, making her way to a secluded part of the room and snapping her fingers and she appeared in the one place she didn’t want to be, but couldn’t stop thinking about, his fucking room where he had told her that he loves her.

Harry groaned in irritation as she suddenly disappeared, she could be anywhere… he glanced back and hurried to his mother.

“Sorry, Clara, can I speak to my mother privately for a moment?” He smiled and she nodded, walking off as he pulled his mother to the edge of the room. “I can’t marry that girl.” He said and Anne sighed.

“Harry, you need to marry som-”

“She’s not into my kind, mum. She told me not even ten minutes into the conversation, we wouldn’t have kids, so no heirs. Her parents don’t know yet. I literally cannot marry her.” He informed and Anne looked a bit surprised.

“So, what are we going to do?” She asked and he bit his lip before deciding to be honest.

“Actually, I am so hopelessly in love with Y/N. I think- no, I know I want to marry her.” He said and Anne’s eyes grew wide as saucers at Harry’s confession.

“Um… she’s a beautiful and wonderful girl, Harry, but is that even possible?” She said skeptically and Harry shrugged.

“I’m pretty sure.” He said and Anne sighed.

“Think about it, we know her and trust her, if we could have kids they’d still be royals!” He argued and Anne shrugged.

“I don’t know, darling. I don’t know how this works. What happens when she stops aging and you get older and older?” She whispered and he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Don’t care, I love her. She’s everything I want and need, she’s my best friend.” He explained and Anne felt for him.

Gemma had luckily fallen in love with someone she could marry to keep the crown. Anne had fallen for Des, and despite their separation she had found someone Robin, who she also loved deeply the second time around and who also had some sort of importance and status acceptable for a queen. She wanted him to be happy… she sighed, her resolve breaking.

“Okay, yes. You can be with her; be with Y/N.” She said softly, squeezing his hands and he smiled.

“Thanks, mum.” He said hugging her tight before hurrying off to find her.

*****

“Y/N?” He called as he opened the for softly. He had checked the entire fucking kingdom (or so it felt like it), he thought she might be in his room, but didn’t really think she had any reason to be until he heard a sniffle and his eyes landed on a lump on the bed that seemed to be shimmering in the moonlight. She looks radiant and he hates knowing that he hurt her feelings, she didn’t let him finish. When he got closer he saw that she had those noise-cancelling headphones on from when they had their first run-in; her eyes were closed so he sat on the edge of the bed making her sit up so fast.

“Jeez, you scared me.” She said a bit too loudly before pulling the headphones off, she had been crying, her eyes were a bit glossy.

“You didn’t let me finish saying what I had to say.” He said and she sighed.

“I don’t want to hear it, I’d rather not. You told me you loved me and I love you too. I’m connecting to you in ways that you can’t imagine, so maybe just rip the bandaid off instead of beating aroun-” he cut her off with his lips pressing to hers. The urge to just be there for him took over her hurt. Harry wasn’t a liar, maybe he had to do this, when she had calmed down he pulled back, pecking her lips once more before resting his forehead on hers.

“I won’t marry her. I talked to my mum about you. About us. Told her that I love you so much and that you’re my best friend and that I don’t want to live a single day without you.” He said and she bit her lip, trying to hold back an enormous smile.

“Harry, is that even allowed?”

“M’not done. I do want every single day with you and I on’t care if I look awful or like your grandad in the end! I just want you to be happy and if you’re happy with me and think you could be for the rest of our lives I would love to ask your parents for your hand in marriage.” He said and tears ere streaming down her face, hopefully good ones.

“You’re lucky my mascara is waterproof, she whispered.” Before kissing him hard. It was indescribable. Consciously making that decision to be with someone no matter what. Naturally their kiss started getting more heated, things were moving quickly. He was standing behind her, kissing at her shoulders as he worked on her dress’ zipper. “Harry, if we do this-”

“I know. Trust me, I don’t think I’d ever want anyone else in my whole life besides you.” He assured her, pleasantly surprised that she was wearing some very cute lingerie.

“Yes, I wore it for you.” She hummed as he unhooked the strapless bra and let drop to the ground before pressing her barely-clothed ass to the bulge in this pants. “I want you so bad.” He whispered in her ear, nibbling at the lobe while his hands squeezed her breasts and pinched at her nipples. If she wasn’t soaked for him before, she definitely was now.

“I want you too, please.” She moaned as he pinched down on her nipple rather hard, causing her to groan in a mix pain and pleasure.

Soon she was laying on the bed completely naked for him, needy and throbbing. Fairies’ bodies prepared for when they were going to bond with a partner. If their heart was in it, so was their body. This means she was a soaking and sticky mess for him, her endorphin and dopamine levels where through the roof, ensuring that the only thing felt on this, her first time, was pleasure. She had never felt such a primal hunger for someone in her life, she needed him to just get inside of her and make her his.

“Fuck, baby.” He moaned as his fingers dipped past her folds and stroked up to her clit, “Proper dripping for me.” He said lowly, rubbing at her clit gently, and pushing two fingers into her, but the sensitivity from her body’s state had her mewling and her back arching, already close to coming. “Are you gonna cum for me?” He asked and she nodded, breath hitching and legs trembling as he added more pressure and increased the speed of his fingers.

“Oh my- yes, that’s so good!” She whimpered, jaw falling slack and her eyes closing tight as she came undone, mumbling his name over and over. God, he was throbbing for her and couldn’t wait to stuff her full of his cock. He hovered over her, kissing her a few minutes as she calmed down, but she couldn’t because the feeling of his hard cock on her lower tummy was doing things to her. “Please, I want you in me. Need to feel you deep inside.” She begged as he rubbed his cock against her soaking folds. He was big, he didn’t want to ruin her first time, but she kept insisting it was okay, that it would be okay.

“Alright love, please tell me if you need me to stop.” He warned and she nodded, shuddering as he rubbed his head up against her clit and then back down to her weeping hole. He watched her attentively as he pressed the tip to her entrance, her eyes flew open and landed on him. His bottom lip was taken between his teeth, holding back a moan as he made shallow little thrusts against her.

“Please, Harry. I need you.” She whimpered and he glanced up to her, eyes begging him to just do it and so he pulled away and hovered over her as her hand guided him to her entrance and he just pushed back into the head, relishing in her arousal and how the new intrusion was causing her body to squeeze around him already. He just let his hips fall towards hers as he pushed all the way into her, making them both groan, her nails digging into his bum as he stilled until he felt his balls tap against her skin, “Oh my god.” She moaned, back arching at the feeling of fullness. Harry felt like he could cry from how incredibly tight she was around him, squeezing and so wet for him.

“You feel so fucking amazing, love. Are you good?” He asked and she nodded furiously.

“Please, move.” She pleaded and he followed her demands.

He thrust into her deep and slow, making love to her. This was a first for sure. His heart felt so full being connected to her this way. He wanted to just hold her so close she could hardly breath, he wished he could kiss her forever without taking a breathing break, he just wanted to be with her. He showed it to her with every thrust and encouraging word, kissing all over her face, moaning into her neck and loving the way she was reacting to this moment with him. God, the way his ego was bloating up at the sounds of her moaning his name and how good his big, thick prick felt inside of her, he was really over the moon.

He bent her legs at the knee and angled his thrust that way, giving it to her harder and faster, feeling her clenching hard around him. She was getting close, the wet sounds getting more prominent as their connection remained.

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” He asked and she moaned, she was his princess now.

“Fuck, I am!” She mewled

“Come on baby, want to feel you making my cock sticky with your cum. Give it to me, princess.” He encouraged until her eyes rolled back and her legs tumbled around his body, soaking his prick with her cum, making the sounds of him thrusting into her louder and dirtier. She was seeing stars, she was tearing up and felt like she was floating in the clouds of pleasure, moaning his name, encouraging him to keep going, to fuck her until he couldn’t move anymore.

“Fuck, love. M’gonna cum.” He warned and she crossed her legs behind his hips as he fucked into her harder and deeper.

“Please,” she begged, “make me yours.” She whined and he moaned loudly at the idea.

“Want my cum deep inside you?” He asked and she nodded and moaned, begging him to please, cum inside her. “Fuck, s’gonna be a lot, fuck.” He said shakily feeling the knot in his tummy hastily slipping undone, he thrusted into her roughly and stilled deep inside of her as he filled her up, moaning at the feeling of her clenching hard around him, milking him for every drop. “Fuck, Y/N.” He moaned, buried in her neck until they were both panting messes of sloppy kisses and declarations of love. “You’re all mine, Y/N. My fucking princess forever.” He mumbled against her lips.

#1D-sexualdesires #one direction one shot #harry styles one shot #harry au #prince harry #smut #Harry Styles #harry styles smut

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faean · 5 years

Text

Adamance of a Dragon

Collaborator: @i-am-here-with-fanfic.

Rating: T+; Mild Language

Word Length: 3,276

Chapter 6- First Day Jitters

First day of school! I still cannot believe I convinced Aaron to leave this early in the morning so we could arrive at our classes before most everyone else. I also just wanted to spend more time out of the house after being stuck inside for the last two weeks of March having to fight my heat. The train station was still fairly busy, but there certainly were fewer people.

Eating a breakfast burrito to pass the time as I waited for Aaron, I received a good morning text from Todoroki. After learning a bit more about his childhood from his sister over the past month, I began to cherish these small efforts by him far more. Even with the loss of my family, I had Aaron and Aria by my side. I simply cannot fathom feeling so lonely for so long with one’s family so close by. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I tried to push the thoughts out of my head. Dwelling on them any longer would likely result in my holding a grudge against Endeavor, and I do not wish to choose sides unless absolutely necessary.

“Hey, Faian. You ready to go?”

I must have been quite engrossed in my thoughts to not notice when Aaron arrived. With a simple nod, we began our trek to U.A.

Casting a side-glance at Aaron, I saw the odd look on his face. I could even smell stress sweat through his deodorant, though, I did not need my draconic senses to do so.

“Nervous, little flame?”

“A bit. It’s just the pressure of going to such a well-known school. It’ll pass. Hopefully.”

It did not take long to arrive, and we had three quarters of an hour before class even began. First stopping at Aaron’s shoe locker so he could switch his footwear (I kept my moccasins on, and wore my jacket draped over my shoulders/school uniform), we continued through the school, looking for our classes and generally just exploring.

Until Aaron decided to head to class early, wanting some time to gather his nerves. Bidding him farewell, I decided to do the same and wait for class to start. While in class.

Yeah.

‘Oh gods, I am a mess’ was the first thing to pass through my mind as I entered through the massive door. Although, any thoughts of anxiety were dashed when I noticed just how peculiarly the school made their accommodations for having an extra student enrolled. There was literally just an extra desk in the row furthest from the door, and it looked incredibly out of place.

I mean, could they not have just centered it? Or changed the lay out? Schools back in the States easily accommodated over 30 students in a single class room; at least, that is what Aaron told me, considering I have not been inside a class room in nearly five years.

Shrugging, as there was little point in continuing this line of thought, I took my seat in the back corner, feeling a bit like some sort of protagonist. Although, I would probably be more of an anti-hero than anything. Perhaps my time in this course will change that. Then again, that would require altering my very nature as a dragon.

Ah, well. I doubt that will come into focus any time soon.

Crossing my arms on my desk and resting my chin on them, I took note of the students who gradually filled the room. Some were rather, well, vivid. I suppose being a hero does require a certain energy and amount of extravagance, but some of these characters were a tad over the top.

Fortunately, I was able to avoid much of the ruckus they caused and greeted Todoroki when he arrived; however, the young lass who sat ahead of me was kind enough to introduce herself.

She had a lovely voice and carried herself with an aura of confidence. Her luscious black hair and warm onyx eyes, along with the sweet smile on her lips also painted her with a caring attitude.

“I’m Yaoyorozu Momo, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Nadal Faian. I apologize if I sound formal or my Japanese is a bit odd. I am originally from the States; California to be precise.” I answered after she bowed, bowing my head in response.

“That explains the extra desk. U.A is known for accepting only a certain number of students. You must be pretty special for them to make an exception.”

A small blush dusted my cheeks at the compliment. I nodded sheepishly, unsure of how to respond. Thankfully, I did not have to as a green-haired male entered the room, causing a stir that drew the attention of many of the students, including myself and Yaoyorozu. Admittedly, with all the noise, I could not discern who said what, nor what was even said until a familiar tired voice cut through the commotion (I may have also not been paying attention until said voice).

“If you’re just here to make friends then you can pack up your stuff now.”

Being so far in the back, I could not see who was speaking (I had an idea), but he continued.

“Welcome to U.A.’s hero course … It took eight seconds before you all shut up. That’s not gonna work. Time is precious. Logical students would understand that.”

By now I could confirm who was speaking. Aizawa Shouta, a fairly tall male with messy black hair in a black outfit, a scarf resting atop his shoulders and a sleeping bag(?) in his grasp. “Hello, I am Aizawa Shouta, your homeroom teacher.”

His introduction shocked the trio in the front, and several other students in the room; however, he remained unfazed and continued speaking. “Right, let’s get to it. Put these on and head outside.”

He pulled what looked like a physical education uniform out of his sleeping bag (I am curious as to why he had it in there of all places). No questions were asked, though, as everyone followed his instructions.

I was the first on the field we were to meet at, having forgone changing in the locker room in favor of simply shifting my current outfit into the new uniform (still had to place the new uniform in my locker to do so). It had earned me a few glances but, to be fair, I did look a bit off with the subtle mutations from my quirk in the first place. Aaron had once described the feeling as entering a room where everything was moved a couple inches in one direction and knowing something was off, but not being able to tell what it was.

While I was still the only one present, Aizawa had approached me and asked (it was more of an order) if I could aid in the upcoming exercise, leaving out exactly what it was I would be helping with.

I agreed.

Once the rest of the students had gathered, Aizawa announced that we would be partaking in a quirk assessment test, which led to several students to repeat the words in confusion. A brunette, whom I recognized as Uraraka, the girl I had tied with, also asked about orientation, exclaiming that we would be missing it by taking this test.

Not bothering to look at the other students, Aizawa stated “if you really wanna make the big leagues, you can’t waste time on pointless ceremonies.” Several students gasped at his bluntness before he continued. “Here at U.A., we’re not tethered to traditions. That means I get to run my class however I see fit.”

More gasps.

“You’ve been taking standardized tests most of your lives. But you never got to use your Quirks in physical exams before. The country’s still trying to pretend we’re all created equal by not letting those with the most power excel. It’s not logical. One day, the ministry of Education will learn.”

Turning to face the students, his attention landing on one in particular, our teacher kept up his lecture. “Bakugou, you managed to get the most points on the entrance exam. What was your farthest distance throw with a softball when you were in Junior High?”

All eyes were trained on Bakugou as he answered. “Sixty-seven meters, I think.”

‘Thank gods I excel in mathematics, otherwise the metric system would have screwed me during the move,’ I thought before Aizawa requested Bakugou to throw the ball using his Quirk. Having been in a different area than him during the entrance exam, I knew naught of his Quirk, nor the applications of it. My lack of knowledge piqued my interest as I watched intently (although, the thought of being needed for something still lingered in my mind).

Standing in the circle, Aizawa told him that he can do anything with his Quirk, so long as he remained within the circle; followed by him berating Bakugou for wasting time (it had only been a few seconds!). Although, it did not phase the ashen blond one bit, his nonchalant response serving as evidence.

However, I was rather baffled when he loudly growled ‘Die’ and launched the ball with what appeared to be an explosion.

While the ball was still soaring through the air, Aizawa plainly said, “all of you need to know your maximum capabilities,” pausing to let the ball hit the ground, he faced the rest of the students, revealing the impressive distance of 705.2 meters on his phone (I think it was his phone) while he continued to say, “it’s the most logical way of figuring out your potential as a pro hero.”

Hear that? Even more gasping.

After the initial shock wore off, many students began to voice their excitement about being able to use their abilities; however, our teacher was quick to silence them.

“So, this looks fun, huh? (By the gods, gasping again?!) You have three years here to become a hero. You think it’s all gonna be games and play time? Idiots. Today you’ll compete in eight physical tests to gauge your potential, with Nadal here,” he gestured to me briefly, “demonstrating each test and setting the bar you should aim to surpass; without using his Quirk. Whoever comes in last has no potential and will be expelled immediately.”

Two things. First, I now realize that it was Aizawa who expelled an entire class, once upon a time. Second, I cannot believe he is using me as the control. Well, actually, I can. After all, he was the teacher I had to meet with to fill out the paperwork for my enrollment (alongside the principal). Still, it would have been nice to have received a warning, especially with some of my classmates now murmuring about me (it did not help that I could hear everything, fully attentive this time around).

After reminding us that he gets to run this class as he sees fit and telling us to just leave if we have a problem with it, Aizawa received several complaints. Specifically, from Uraraka, who passionately believed the threat of expulsion to be unfair and question his ruling.

Once again establishing why we are here at U.A., our teacher answered with a string of scenarios. “Oh, and you think natural disasters are? Or power-hungry villains? Hm? Or catastrophic accidents that wipe out whole cities? No, the world if full of unfairness. It’s a hero’s job to try to combat that unfairness. If you wanna be a pro, you’re gonna have to push yourself to the brink. For the next three years, U.A. will throw one terrible hardship after another at you. So, go beyond. Plus Ultra-style.”

Aizawa held a look of contempt on his face, challenging the students with a beckoning motion of his hand. Also…

More god damn gasping.

With that said, we began the tests. The first test we took (and the first for me to demonstrate), was the 50 meter dash. Complying with the parameters set by my teacher for me, I traversed the distance without using my Quirk. This earned me a total time of 3.51 seconds and was the goal the other students were supposed to pass (which was done by the male with mufflers in his calves, whom I learned was named Iida Tenya).

We continued this pattern throughout all eight tests, with some of the students capable of matching my base numbers and even surpassing them. My results for the remaining seven tests were…

Grip Strength- 453 kilograms.

Standing Long Jump- Cleared.

Sustained Sideways Jump- I do not recall; I sort of got distracted.

Ball Throw- 1,327 meters.

And the last three were only regular old fitness tests, not exactly worth mentioning. Admittedly, it was indeed unfair for me to act as the control since my body is naturally superhuman in order for it to withstand my Quirk. Also, I am certain Aizawa knew this from our previous meetings and exploited it; as if threatening expulsion was not enough motivation.

Especially when the small green-et was singled out by Aizawa during the ball thrown. His Quirk was self-destructive but, I must admit, I took a liking to him. I remember just how much my own Quirk would break down my body until I began channeling it properly. Even his minor speech was rousing, and I could not prevent myself from helping relieve some of the pain of his broken finger (I made a splint using some earth magic).

And I was not the only one with an interest in him. At some point during these tests, I noticed All Might (of all people) watching from around a corner. He was quite enthralled by Midoriya Izuku, and his obvious excitement during his ball throw reminded me that Aaron and I saw him training Midoriya.

Aside from those few things, and Bakugou nearly assaulting Midoriya, the assessment had come to a close with out much issue. Aizawa displayed our overall standing, not bothering to go over individual scores, as well as admitting that his threat of expulsion was no more than a ‘logical ruse’. Or a ‘rational deception’, I am not sure which (I still have some trouble translating back and forth). Fortunately, Yaoyorozu figured that out and, hopefully, a few other students did.

I would expect nothing less; however, of the girl who was one of two people who beat the base line average Aizawa had me set (Todoroki was the other, of course). With that, most of us went back to class, with the exception for Midoriya, who had to head to Recovery Girl’s office.

The rest of the day was uneventful, well, until I was awaiting Aaron after school.

“Oi! Cat eyes!”

Sighing, I turned towards the owner of the raucous voice, Bakugou Katsuki, to answer. “Ello, Bakugou. How may I be of assistance?”

Stormy eyes glared into mine as I stood stooped before the shorter male, my expression maintaining its natural disinterest.

“You can tell me how the hell a damn extra like you pulled off those stunts without a Quirk! Did Aizawa have you cheat to make us look bad?” The edge in his voice and sparking of his palms would have been intimidating if he was, well, intimidating.

“Ah, dear Bakugou, there is no need for you to fret. Aizawa merely wished for me to provide more competition. As for how I accomplished such feats,” I took a step closer, a mischievous grin dancing across my lips as I honeyed my words, “such knowledge requires an equal trade, Iratus Catella.”

With that, I strolled back towards the school, leaving the ‘angry puppy’ behind to contemplate what I told him; however, I was not paying much attention to my surroundings as I was focused on finding Aaron. As a result, I knocked into someone. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around the person and spun so they would land on me (it happened a lot when Aaron and I were kids).

“What luck you must have,” slipped my mouth as I smiled lazily on the ground.

Noticing the ruffled emerald hair tickling my chin, I realize it was Midoriya who I rushed into it. I also remembered that he had broken his finger during the assessment test, and I grew worried I may have damaged it further. After all, such a small yet defiant young lad requires-

‘Oh, my gods, he is adorable!’, was what shot through my mind as he pushed himself up, the warm light of the afternoon sun cascading over-

‘Why the hell must it be so bright?’, was the second thought that went through my mind as Midoriya became ridiculously flustered and scrambled off of me, apologizing profusely as three other students -Iida, Uraraka, and Aaron- approached us, asking if we were ‘okay’.

“I am quite all right, thank you. I am more concerned with the little clover. I do hope I did not aggravate your finger,” I say, sitting up and crossing my legs.

“Oh, no! It’s completely fine, I mean, I should’ve been looking where I was going and if you didn’t catch me, I probably would’ve needed to head back to the nurse and it would have been super embarrassing to go back so soon after already breaking my finger!” He finally took a breath and started to calm down, asking if I needed a hand.

Picking my jacket off the ground and shifting my uniform into my regular outfit, I stood without assistance, thanking Midoriya for the offer as he, Iida, and Uraraka held a look of mild confusion.

Iida was the first to speak, asking “May I inquire as to what your Quirk is? It must be quite powerful if our teacher recognizes your strength.”

“That’s right! Aizawa had you set the bar for everyone. Didn’t he have you do it without your Quirk, too?” Uraraka followed.

“I suppose it would be best for me to share. The name bestowed upon my Quirk is ‘Draconico Vitae’, better known as Dragon of Life,” I gestured to a few of my noticeable draconic features. “Simply put, I am capable of anything a dragon of my kind is, including having the ability to perform powerful elemental magic. As a result, my natural capabilities as a human are far greater than the average person; otherwise, I would not have survived the backlash of my Quirk.”

“Physical traits and abilities aside, Faian also shares the same nature as a dragon. He hoards knowledge and anything of importance, is inclined to disinterest, and tends to be lazy,” Aaron added.

Iida and Uraraka were impressed, while Midoriya was ceaselessly scribbling in a damaged journal. Being much taller, I could see that he was taking notes on my Quirk, as well as sketching several of my traits and jotting down possible fighting styles. Admittedly, his mumbling was much more interesting, but he was speaking so fast I was unable to understand most of it.

“You know, I would be willing to share more on my Quirk, for a price.”

However, Aaron was quick to remind me of the time, stating “Faian, now is not the time for you to make trades. I’m certain they want to know more about your Quirk, but we need to get going. You did order a bunch of new furniture that was supposed to come in today.”

“My Victorian-era furniture! We need to get to my house before the delivery truck, otherwise they may skip it and I shall lose my payment!”

“You wasted a lot of time not using contractions.”

After casting a playful glare towards Aaron, I bid farewell to our new friends. Picking Aaron up bridal-style, I unfurled my wings and took off towards my house.

Beta Reader, Collaborator, Owner of Aria and Aaron Granchester, and Creator of the Illegitimate Son storyline- @i-am-here-with-fanfic.

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