#and not making her death instantaneous so he was forced to watch her slowly dying in the hospital in Tokyo }} | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sailors-diary-for-elise · 3 years

Text

Punishment (18+)

Whew here we go. First work posted. Was I expecting to post a pure smut filth work first? NOPE. But here we are. I will be putting 18+, more as a "this is a smut minors don't reblog or like" since I know I was far from innocent as a minor.

Warnings: pure filth. 100% smut, use of toys (a vibrator), language, edging, teasing, spanking (reader gets what she deserves), breast play and nipple play, bratty sub!reader, dom!Yunho, dom!Mingi, brat taming?, clit slapping, cum eating, blowjob (Mingi receiving), sir kink, deep throating, face fucking (reader receiving), hair pulling (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), orgasm denial (reader receiving), overstimulation (Mingi receiving), anal, double penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it up peeps).

Okay, so maybe you’d pushed your luck a little too far. You knew how much your boyfriends hated to be teased, especially in front of the others and you really should have chosen your outfit a little bit more carefully. After all, the shorts that barely passed your ass and the sheer camisole left nothing to the imagination. But sometimes, you just couldn’t help but push your usually energetic and goofy boyfriends’ buttons.

It had all started during the movie night that you’d sprung on the rest of the group, the only exception being San who was keeping your roommate busy in his own ways and had accidentally kicked you out. What San, Yunho, Mingi and the others hadn’t realized was that hearing everything going on between your roommate and San had left you feeling different, wanting nothing more than to push the limits of your boyfriends and see that dark side they had warned you of.

Walking through the front door of the dorms, you immediately run to Mingi’s room, peeking in to make sure he is still sleeping before pouncing on him. He wakes with a start, grabbing your hips and looking around slightly dazed and confused. You giggle, pressing kisses across his neck and bare collarbone.

“Wake up, baby” you purr in his ear, planting a light kiss to the skin right below it. Mingi groans below you, his grip on your hips tightening before you hop off of him, humming as you run back to the living room. Poor Mingi was left slightly confused and lost, wondering if he imagined your unusual wake-up call. Ruffling his hair, he walks out of his room, running right into Yunho. Yunho smirks at the younger boy, looking down at the tent forming in Mingi’s pants.

“So I see Y/n has already paid you a visit?” Yunho chuckles, almost feeling bad for the tired boy in front of him. Yunho himself had been your victim when you kept accidentally dropping things in front of him and bending down to pick them up. “Our girl seems to be in a mood today.”

Mingi groans, becoming irritated at the thought of having to deal with your bratty antics. “The fuck is wrong with her,” he grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck to alleviate the tension there. “Does she not remember the last time she decided to tease us both?”

“No idea,” Yunho shrugs slightly, a smirk slowly forming. “But a part of me wants to wait and see how far she’ll go to get her way. You game?”

“And what did you have in mind?” Mingi’s interest peaked, looking directly at his hyung.

“I say, we let the little minx think she has us,” Yunho starts, glaring at Mingi who actually growls at the thought of you having power over him. “only for a short amount of time, and then right when she goes to take control, is when we show her exactly who’s in charge.”

The shit-eating grin that passes over Mingi’s face is one that sends shivers down Yunho’s spine, making him almost regret voicing his plan. Almost. After all, he is the most dominant of the two boys. Mingi is about to retort when you come sliding around the corner, stopping directly in front of them in a posture that screams a challenge.

Your hands are crossed over your chest, hip stuck out slightly as you raise an eyebrow at the two men conversing.

“Are you two big babies coming? Or am I gonna have to ask one of the others to pay attention to me?” a smirk crosses Yunho’s face as well as yours, while Mingi scowls at you, counting in his head to ten in an attempt of not taking you up against the wall right then and there.

“Oh don’t worry princess,” Yunho grits out, Mingi pulling a strained smile and walking past you. “We would never leave you to your own devices.” And so the games begin.

You’ve made it about 3/4 of the way through the movie, with pretty much the entire group crammed together to watch it. Throughout it, you’ve slowly grown more confident in your advances, fleeting strokes up Yunho’s thighs, a light tap over Mingi’s bulge which has hardened significantly, even going so far of knocking your cold drink on Yunho’s lap, causing him to hiss as you press tissues on the wet spot on his pants, smirking at the realization that it wasn’t just from the soda.

Mingi struggles to maintain his cool composure, pinching your hips if you try to grind on him and forcing a laugh at the death glare Yunho gives you once you finish “cleaning” him up. It’s when you reach beneath the waistband of his pants that he can’t take it anymore, tossing you off his lap and racing to his room. You squeak in surprise, pouting thinking you might have pushed him too far. You look at Yunho, who pays you no mind while scrolling through his phone, deciding in his own mind that your little games have gone on long enough.

He too rises, heading towards the bedroom and slamming the door shut, causing you to jump in your seat. Your pout grows, guilt and doubt filling your entire being. The movie ends and everyone works at cleaning up the mess, with you being lost in your thoughts. As soon as you finish, you walk over to the room, peeking in only to find it surprisingly empty. You walk in fully, noticing a tiny note on the bed attached to your- oh. That would be your bunny vibrator.

With a shaky hand, you pick up the note recognizing the handwriting as Yunho’s immediately.

Since you decided to be a brat, Mingi and I decided to have a little fun of our own. If you touch yourself before we get back, you’ll be punished. If you don’t, we’ll give you what you’ve been asking for all evening. The choice is yours, kitten- “big baby #1″

You scoff, picking up the vibrator. So they weren’t upset at all. They were probably just getting themselves off instead of bringing you along to join the party. Well, two could play that game.

You quickly strip yourself of everything except your undergarments, picking up the vibrator and your phone, pressing record to send to your boyfriends.

“Hmph. After all of that work I put into getting you guys ready,” you whine out, stomping slightly. “you both have fun without me? Well, just for that I’m going to take that little toy you left me and-” you never finish your sentence, your phone being snatched from you.

“And here I thought our little kitten could behave,” a rough voice says in your ear, nibbling on the lobe lightly while you shudder. “Go on and finish kitten. Mingi and I are dying to hear how you were going to ignore our simple instructions.”

“I-I, I h-have no i-ideA OW!” you squeak out, your ass being smacked by a firm hand.

“Spit. It. Out,” Mingi grunts out, walking in front of you to loom over your smaller, shaking form. “What were you about to do?”

Mingi’s jaw is clenched, his pupils blown and looking at you in a way that makes you shrink.

“Oh?” Yunho hums, laving his tongue across the outside of your earlobe before pulling it between his teeth. “What happened to all that confidence and attitude you had earlier? Cat got your tongue?”

“Or maybe it’s because you realize how bad you fucked up,” Mingi asks, his calm tone scaring you almost as much as when he first addressed you, chuckling darkly at how your entire body seems to vibrate, eyes closing as you unconsciously lean back into Yunho's chest. “Honestly, what were you thinking would happen, kitten?”

“Did you really believe we wouldn’t do anything about your little games?” Yunho hums, watching as Mingi pulls the elastic of your panties away from you before letting them snap back against your hips. “Thought you wouldn’t get punished like little brats deserve?”

You open your eyes and glare at the person teasing you from the front, biting your lip before deciding to see how long you can keep this up. A small smirk forms on your lips, and you practically purr your next sentence. “I was going to take that little toy, and shove it so far into my pussy that I’d cum quicker and harder than I ever have. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The effect is instantaneous, although to an outsider it would seem as though nothing had changed between the three of you. But you could sense it, how both boys auras switched from controlled anger to borderline blind rage. It showed in how Mingi closed his eyes, his breathing heavy and shaky as if he were pulling a boulder behind him. It showed in how Yunho’s ministrations had stopped, fist clenching around the vibrator tightly. Your inner self was begging you not to push them over the edge, not to say what was on the tip of your tongue and seal your fate for this evening. But sometimes, you just don’t know when to quit.

“Well?” you say impatiently, reaching for the vibrator in Yunho’s hand and tapping your foot impatiently. “I’m waiting for an answer?” And that is the final straw for them both.

In an instant, your panties are left in a torn pile on the floor along with your now split bra, a gasp leaving you as the boys work as if they have one mind. Mingi latches onto your nipple in time with Yunho turning the vibrator on to the highest level, pressing it harshly on your clit. A scream almost leaves you from the double stimulation, but Yunho’s large hand covers your nose and mouth.

“You make a single sound babygirl, and we’ll make sure you don’t cum for an entire. Fucking. Month.” Yunho says firmly, emphasizing his point by removing the vibrator to smack your clit in time with each word at the end of his sentence. You almost scream again, biting your lip. “Good girl. Good to know you can listen at least some of the time. Right, Mingi?”

Mingi hums in affirmation, biting lightly on your breast before releasing the abused flesh from his teeth. He stands up straight, smirking while looking into your eyes.

“Oh I know she knows how to listen, hyung,” he replies, eyes dark and smirk ever present. “She just likes to make things difficult, don’t you babygirl? You like getting us both riled up so you can get the fuck of your life.”

You are unable to respond, the realization dawning on you that you maybe- no, scratch that. You DEFINITELY pushed your boyfriends way past their breaking points and weren't going to be walking properly for quite some time. Another slap to your clit brings you out of your thoughts, Mingi biting down on your nipple.

“Focus on us, babe. Otherwise you’ll end up worse off than you already are.” Yunho warns, pressing the vibrator harshly against you as your hips buck up in response, your teeth digging into your lip to the point of almost drawing blood as you nod weakly. “Good girl~ now. How should we punish you first, hmm? Should we edge you for hours with every part of our bodies except our cocks? Since it’s clear that you want them so badly-”

It was an accident, the picture Yunho’s painting affecting you so much that it can’t be helped when a loud and shaky moan slips past your lips. Time seems to pause for a moment as Mingi glances at you, the evil grin from before returning as Yunho lets out an inhuman noise. In an instant, you are bent over the bed, ass in the air with Yunho behind you and Mingi kneeling in front of you, keeping a hand under your chin to force you to keep eye-contact with him.

“You are gonna count each spank, not missing a single one nor stuttering. I want you to speak clearly or we start all over, understand?” Yunho grits out from behind you, rubbing your bare ass with one of his large hands, the other resting on the curve of your back to keep you from wiggling away. Not that you would.

“Y-yes sir- AH!” you cry out, back arching at the harsh smack against your right ass cheek, the flesh jiggling and stinging.

“I said, speak clearly. Now, count.” Yunho slaps your ass hard, switching to your left cheek.

“One-” you whimper out, trying to lower your head only to be stopped by Mingi. Glaring at you, Mingi tangles his hand in your hair to keep you in place. You are about to speak when another smack hits, this one on your right ass cheek again. “Two, Mingi please let me hide my face-”

“What did you just call me?” Mingi tightens his grip on your hair, tugging slightly and nodding at Yunho who tuts behind you. “I think this means she should have to start over Yunho~”

You shake your head, mumbling out apologies in desperation. “Please I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to it was an accident I swear-” you yelp as Yunho lands another blow.

“Don’t be rude. You are starting over and that’s final.” You nod in response, arms and legs trembling.

You aren’t sure how long it is into your punishment, but your legs barely have any strength left in them, your ass is on fire, and wetness has been dripping down your legs for the last few spanks. As the next blow hits, your arms give out and Mingi catches you easily.

“Twelve~” you pant heavily, peeking over at Yunho who smirks at your dripping core, massaging your bright red ass cheeks and cooing to you.

“Very good my dear~ we only had to restart twice! And look at you, you are dripping wetness all over the place.” Yunho chuckles darkly, running a finger up your thighs to gather some of the slick there. “Almost makes me wanna have a taste~”

When Yunho brings his fingers to his lips, moaning around them, your eyes trail to the tent in Mingi’s boxers, tongue running over your lower lips at the darkened circle where his tip is. Mingi chuckles, stroking a thumb along your lips, tugging on your lower one. Yunho continues to swipe his fingers through your juices, enjoying watching your reactions everytime he almost brushes your folds and pulling away, driving you insane with the need to be stimulated in some way. A broken whine slips out signalling that Mingi and Yunho achieved their mutual goal of teasing you as much as you had them, which was easy considering how sensitive you are to their touches on a normal day.

“Yunho? Think this brat has earned a taste of my cock? Or should we tease her more~” Yunho brings a wet digit to his lips, grinning as he sucks off all of the juices loudly, your heat trembling in response.

“I mean, I guess you could let her~ after all, she did take her punishment kind of well~” Yunho snickers at your offended expression as you look at him over your shoulder, pouting cutely.

Swallowing your pride, you look up at Mingi with puppy dog eyes, wiggling your hips as you speak in the most innocent tone you can. “Sir? Please let kitten taste your cock~ let me take you completely in my mouth, swallowing around your tip as it hits the back of my throat. Kitten wants sir to fuck her mouth~ kitten wants to please sir and help sir cum~ pretty pretty please sir?” Batting your eyelashes, Mingi bites his lower lip hard, asking Yunho silently to allow you to give him everything you just offered and more. Yunho responds by simply shoving your face closer to Mingi’s crotch, retrieving the vibrator and shoving it into you, turning it on as he pushes it deep into you.

Mingi quickly slips out of his pants and boxers, his red and angry looking cock slapping his stomach, sending precum across his abdomen. Moaning out at the sight combined with the vibrator’s unique shape hitting all the right spots in you, you lean forward and clean off the precum from Mingi’s abs, humming before taking the tip of his cock in your mouth and sucking eagerly. Mingi throws his head back, the hand in your hair tightening and shoving you down farther, curses and grunts slipping past his lips at the feeling of you.

Yunho begins curling the toy inside of you, refusing to give you the satisfaction of thrusting it into you. You moan around Mingi, hollowing out your cheeks and pushing your head down to the point that Mingi’s tip is resting in your throat. Mingi checks on you, waiting for the sign that he can finally begin thrusting. You tap his hips, whining out around him and fondling his balls. It’s this action that causes his restraint to snap.

Mingi starts snapping his hips into your mouth, gripping your hair tightly to guide you on his cock, grunting at the feeling of your mouth around him and your throat constricting. You let out mixtures of whines and moans, scraping your teeth lightly against his shaft whenever he pulls out and hollowing your cheeks as he thrusts in, trying to stimulate him as much as possible. Yunho continues to use the toy on you, his pants becoming tighter and tighter when your worst nightmare occurs, a cry being choked back. The batteries run out.

Yunho pulls the toy from you, spreading your lips to thrust three of his long digits in you and starting to pump them roughly, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. Feeling the knot forming in you, you try to signal Yunho of your release, not knowing if it’s to tell him to keep going and allow you to have the sweet release you crave, or stop him to prolong your time together. Unfortunately for you, he chooses the latter and rips his hands away from you, watching your body writhe in need of him. There isn’t much time for you to complain about your denied orgasm though, because Mingi’s cock is twitching in your mouth and his pace is becoming irregular, his own release dangerously close. Running short on air and tears stinging your eyes, you bob your head faster on his cock, hearing his labored breaths and muttered curses above you. You close your eyes, focusing on bringing Mingi to his release and swallowing hard, moaning around him as you feel spurts of liquid hit the back of your throat.

Eyes shooting open, you look up at Mingi, shocked at the whimpers and whines coming from him as he cums down your throat, encouraging you to milk him of his release until he practically rips you off of him, overstimulation becoming too much as he pants and glares at you. Releasing your hair, Mingi wipes your lips with his thumb, slipping it into your mouth and swallowing before mumbling a simple “swallow” and watching as you listen to him. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, revealing that not a single drop of cum remains in your mouth. Mingi hums and pets your head gently, soothing the ache from his grip on your hair.

“Yunho-hyung, I think she’s finally earned the right to cum, don’t you?” Mingi purrs, slipping his hands under your arms to pull you up and turn you around to face Yunho, who eyes you hungrily. You gulp, batting your eyelashes at Yunho and jutting your lower lip out in a pout. Yunho strips off his shirt, tossing it to the side and reaching for his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers to reveal his hard cock, mirroring the way Mingi’s dripped earlier before you sucked him off. One of Yunho’s hands wraps around his cock, stroking himself to spread his precum. Smirking at you, he nods at Mingi, crawling on the bed and kneeling in front of you.

Mingi pushes you, encouraging you to kneel as well while he reaches into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a tube of lubricant and popping the cap open. Mingi presses his chest to your back, opening the cap and squeezing out the clear liquid and spreading it on his fingers and rubbing some over your asshole. You gasp at the cool liquid, clenching around nothing as Yunho slides his shaft between your folds to gather more slick on his cock. Yunho leans down and sucks on your collarbone, grasping your hip in one of his hands while the other lines his cock up with your seeping hole.

“Look at you, an absolute mess~ see, this could’ve happened a lot faster and smoothly if you had just asked us like a good little girl~ but you just had to misbehave, didn’t you?” Mingi purrs in your ear, slowly slipping his pointer finger into your ass and biting on the shell of your ear. You gasp in surprise, whining and rolling your head back onto his shoulder, your hands resting on Yunho’s for support. Yunho moves his mouth all over your neck and collarbones, biting and sucking marks anywhere he can reach. The very tip of his cock teases your entrance before slipping out again, leaving you a desperate and panting mess between them both. Your legs shake as Mingi stretches you out, carefully slipping in another finger and scissoring them apart deep inside of you. “Look how well she takes my fingers~ I wonder if she can handle us both fucking her at the same time? Should we test it out Yunho?”

“I think we should Mingi~ but let’s take it slow, wouldn’t want her tearing in half from both of us now would we?” Yunho chuckles, finally pushing his cock deep inside of you and stretching you completely. You moan loudly, gripping his shoulders tightly at the feeling of having something penetrating both of your holes. Mingi manages to fit a third finger in, spreading and thrusting them into you to prepare you for when his cock enters you. You moan out, tapping Yunho on the shoulder to signal him to move, hissing when he pulls almost completely out of you and pushing back into you, repeating the movement over and over painfully slow. You whine out, nails scraping down Yunho’s chest and leaving angry red lines, causing him to hiss and reach up, tugging you back by the hair and marking up your chest and neck as his pace remains unchanging. After a few moments, Mingi pulls his fingers out of you. Yunho freezes, his cock buried deep inside of your cunt and watching Mingi over your shoulder. You try to look at him, but Yunho grasps your chin and forces you to look at him. “Unless you don’t want to cum for the next week, you will focus on me, understand?” You nod but receive a slap to the outside of your thigh, prompting you to speak.

“Yes sir” You gulp, becoming impatient as you wait for them to continue. You hear Mingi squeeze more lube out, coating his cock and pumping it before lining up to your asshole. Yunho pulls you into a deep kiss, muffling your whimper as the head of Mingi’s cock pushes into you, slowly stretching you out. Mingi pauses periodically, ensuring not to hurt you since it’d been a bit since you’d taken both of them. With murmured praises and soft nibbles on the shell of your ear, Mingi finally bottoms out, barely keeping himself restrained from fucking you senseless right then and there. Panting, you shift your hips slightly, causing both boys to groan as one grips your shoulders and the other your hips, keeping you in place. A smirk crosses your features, and before Yunho can warn you not to, you clench around both of them, causing the last of their restraint to snap.

The grip on your hips becomes bruising as they begin fucking you roughly, making it so that as one cock pulls out of you the other one is ramming harshly into you. You practically scream out in surprise, nails digging into Yunho’s shoulders and your head laying back on Mingi’s shoulder. Mingi bites on your shoulder, a bruise surfacing instantly as his hips snap into you roughly. One of Yunho’s hands trails between you both, finding your core and rubbing at your clit. You’ve become a moaning and whining mess between them, not even bothering trying to gain any control of the situation or their pleasure, too far gone to function.

A tight coil begins forming in your gut, and you struggle to warn them. “I-I’m about to c-cum~ s-so close pl-please let m-me cum!” Yunho groans, rubbing at your clit faster.

“Go on babygirl~ I want you to cum all over my cock~ it’s okay, let go now” at his words, you scream out in pleasure, clenching around them both as a ringing fills your ears. You see white, and go rigid in their holds. It only takes a few more thrusts before they’re both cumming deep within you, their thrusts becoming shallow as they ride out their highs. Whimpering from the sensitivity, you tap on Yunho’s shoulder. Yunho and Mingi nod, pulling out of you. You sigh in relief, only to yelp in surprise when you get set on your back, wrists getting handcuffed above your head. You look up at them both, the sudden cruel reality of your behavior hitting you like a freight train.

“You honestly didn’t think your punishment was over, did you princess?” Yunho looms over you, a smirk on his features. You hear a drawer opening, and after some shuffling, Mingi comes into view holding a fresh set of batteries and your bunny vibrator along with your butt-plug. “Oh baby~ we’re just getting started~”

And that was the start of the longest night of your life.

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

And so there it is! I hope y'all enjoyed it!

#ateez smut #yunho smut #mingi smut #mingi x reader #yunho x reader #mingi x y/n #yunho x y/n #ateez punishment smut #ateez rough smut

237 notes · View notes

capricornus-rex · 3 years

Text

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (5)

Chapter 5: Lingering Grief | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 | Previous: Part 4 | Next: Part 6 | Masterlist

6 of ?

“I love… Love…” Shmi choked before she succumbed to death, never able to complete the simplest yet most important of phrases.

Anakin’s shaky fingers closed his mother’s eyes. The pang of grief was quickly overtaken by an unquenchable vengeance.

A heavy, ominous darkness blankets the Tusken encampment. The guards outside Shmi’s tent barely had a reaction time to the ignition of Anakin’s lightsaber; when they had turned around after the flaps of the tent hit their sleeve, they were cut down without the hesitation of a moment.

Alarmed by the attack, the Tuskens untied their massiffs—their reptilian guard dogs—and unleashed those hounds on Anakin, before advancing to attack the intruding Jedi themselves. The rage and grief seething within him was weaponized, it had amplified his swordsmanship; however, it made his movements raggedy, uncalculated, and unbecoming of his practiced lightsaber form. He planted his feet on the ground while he kept his eyes straight on the enemy. Or were they at all?

One after another, the Tuskens came at him—cycler rifles and staves brandished in the air—and were instantaneously felled, not even allowed to have a swing of their own weapons. One of them alerted the snipers who were in the perimeter of the encampment, supposedly on patrol; many of them went for the encampment, attempting to give support in the skirmish, but they were quickly losing—despite outnumbering the Jedi to fifty or so.

When push comes to shove, a number of the females braved and took up arm to fight off this murderous trespasser—who’s cutting them by the numbers. In their native tongue, they urged one another to join the ranks and charge. The women joined the fray, amongst the males, while some other females—particularly mothers—scurried with their young into their tents for safety. Now, the latter caught Anakin’s attention.

Anakin cut through the Tuskens’ defenses, man and woman alike, and sliced down the mothers first then their children next, sometimes the other way around. The wounded but living mothers howled in the night, carrying their children—grown and newborn—sorrowfully wailing, praying to their deities to deliver them mercy from this agony. And that exact deliverance came in the form of a blinding blue beam of light. However, their granted prayers were not of mercy, but of an unquenchable hatred, more like a punishment—from a certain point of view.

But then again, does the way of death matter?

He proceeded to finish off the stragglers, many of them fatally injured and are just scrambling on the sand with one hand extended in a pleading gesture. In their eyes, Anakin appeared to them like an executioner—with the campfire at his back, tracing his unhooded silhouette, and a cyan beam illuminating his distorted features. That was the final thing they ever saw before their bodies met the lightsaber, a noble weapon now used for an atrocious annihilation.

That night, Anakin never discriminated. He killed not only the men, but the women, and the children, too. He left nothing in his wake but death and destruction.

–

In the middle of it all, a chill wraps around Irele over her shoulders. She thought it strange, it’s only the first few hours of nightfall—where it’s usually warm at that time of the day and the cold gradually creeps in. The cold was dramatically different from the desert breeze at dusk. It crawled along her arms, then snaked over her spine and the small of her back, forcing her to pause from her pastime of creating beaded and woven crafts—a hobby she picked up from Shmi.

“What’s wrong, Irele?” asked Beru, mending a scarf in the common room.

“Is it just me or has it gotten unusually colder?”

Beru’s eyes flicked to the side, paused to feel a draft, and then shrugged. She was wearing a short-sleeved tunic paired with her long skirt. She would have felt the same as Irele, but she didn’t. When the older girl noted the uneasiness in Irele’s expression, she stood up and patted her forehead.

“Are you alright, Irele? You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“No, but I guess it was just a funny feeling. Maybe heatstroke.”

“Irele, we’re all too used to the heat here to get a heatstroke,” Beru chuckled. “If any, we’d get one if we were in a volcanic planet!”

The girls shared a chuckle with the lighthearted joke, which may have distracted Irele for a bit until she eventually dismissed it as indeed a funny feeling, but only for a second.

She had been waiting for Anakin—along with their mother—to come home, but given that they lack the whereabouts of this Tusken band, she though perhaps he had asked the locals along the way, like Jawas and vagabonds. When the hours have passed, the night had grown darker, Irele had no choice but to sleep on it.

In her bed, the cold persisted. She pulled up her blanket—her favorite one for it was handmade by her mother—until it covered her up to her nose, exposing her only from the eyes up. She tried closing her eyes, but her lids twitched, begging to be opened. Lying flat on her back, facing the ceiling, staring at the stone ceiling, she wondered and imagined where Anakin and Shmi would be.

“Mom… I hope he brings you home safely.”

More thoughts coaxed into Irele’s mind. They’re hopeful thoughts. Behind her eyes, she’d visualize Shmi in the kitchen, whipping up a favorite meal of hers, and she’d insist on helping. Both of them would sew together, making whatever garment they choose. All that wishful thinking lulled the girl to sleep, blissfully unaware of the chaos that her own brother had wrought.

The next morning, the sound of the speeder made Irele drop everything and run to the porch.

Her hopes from last night were shattered when she saw Anakin riding the speeder alone and all he brought with him was a fully swaddled body. Her felt her heart drop her stomach, and she watched in silence as Anakin carried the corpse and glowered at the Lars family and then to Padmé. He brushed past them, and then in the corner of his eye, he caught his little sister staring. Irele standing there stopped him in his tracks, then his glower softened into a look of shame—one that says he didn’t fulfill his promise to her. Just one day of meeting her, he lets go of a promise, and fails it.

He didn’t know what to say to her. She let him know that he didn’t need to, for she turned tail and ran back inside.

Irele helped in the preparation of the grave, but for the rest of the activity, she did not speak. She did not maintain eye contact with anyone. The only interaction she’s ever had was with C3PO when she needed help on something, but not even he received a gaze from his young mistress.

She dusted her hands together, and dismissed herself.

“I’m going inside. I want a drink.” she told to no one in particular, but her father and brothers acknowledged it.

She was in the kitchen, just through the small doorway past the dining table, helping herself to a glass of juice. She sat in the seat nearest the door and just stared at the glass filled with a clear, apricot-colored liquid, tracing the rim of the glass with her finger, occasionally sipping it—for once, the sweet fruit juice tasted watery and bland, she finished the glass nonetheless, though reluctantly.

During her drinking, she had sensed Anakin walking into the workshop as she heard even the more careful of clinking of metal hitting the table. She remained silent, though he could sense her there, he just chose not to disturb her and rather make himself busy with fixing things. Next, she heard Padmé’s soft and kindly voice, a stark contrast to Anakin’s steely tone.

“Are you hungry?”

“The shifter broke,” he completely avoided her question.

Their conversation went on, with Anakin struggling to keep away from the grief that lingered in him.

“But I couldn’t…” he trailed. “Why’d she have to die? Why couldn’t I save her? I know I could have!”

Then he tasted something sour, not realizing that he had bitten the inside of his cheek and it bled. The walls listened and told everything to Irele, who’s still drawing invisible lines on her glass. Much later, she jolted when Anakin responded to Padmé’s fact with a loud frustration.

“Well, I should be!”

“I will be the most powerful Jedi ever!”

Irele continued to listen in, though Anakin’s behavior frightened her, and she had already come out of the dining room and hid behind the wall before the workshop’s archway.

“And I promise you: I will even learn to stop people from dying!”

Taken aback by the bold claim, she thought it impossible and dismissed it as wishful thinking clouded by unrealistic ambitiousness. Again, Irele heard more of Anakin’s roaring, this time blaming someone by the name of Obi-Wan of holding him back. She just continued to listen, hoping to find a way to empathize with her brother, but she found it difficult when he’s so flooded primarily of hatred and anger than sorrow and grief.

“Ani, what’s wrong?” Padmé cooed, attempting to break through his walls.

Anakin looked down on his hands, the very hands that held and swung the sword as he passed on his sentence to the Tuskens. They’re still red from the overly-tightened grip of his saber from last night. There were bruises too, little nicks that he didn’t notice during the genocide. The tears have dried, leaving glossy streaks on his defined cheekbones. His nostrils flared as he gasped for air, when the realization was slowly creeping up to him. He choked as he sighed.

“I killed them… I killed them all…” he repeated. Then swung to face Padmé. “They’re dead. Every single one of them…”

Padmé stared at him, dead frozen on where she stood. Her fingers unfeeling. Irele heard those very words from her own brother’s mouth and she could have sworn she felt her heart pause from beating. Her stomach tightened after every following word.

“And not just the men. But the women… and the children too!”

Irele’s knees nearly failed her as they lost their strength. Her heart felt heavy like an anchor. She silenced a gasp when she brought her hand to her mouth.

“They’re like animals. And I slaughtered them like animals! I hate them!”

Horrified of the unimaginable, completely unnecessary carnage her brother had wrought, she ran away from the workshop; the sound of her boots lightly scraping against the sand and metal as her heels sprang Anakin’s ears pricked up, but he was too preoccupied with his grief that he dismissed it as nothing. Irele sprints to her bedroom. For a moment, it didn’t sound like her brother was the one talking—she heard the words of a monster in the guise of a man.

Her hands trembled uncontrollably that she cannot even hold something with two fingers. She finally allowed herself to melt to the floor, and she cannot fathom how much violence and damage that Anakin left in his wake upon retrieving their mother. That night, Irele could not sleep; she waited for everyone to have fallen asleep and attempted to sneak out of the house to visit Shmi’s headstone again. They had buried Shmi already, Irele helped too, but Cliegg was too cautious of the nightfall that he insisted on setting the funeral tomorrow morning where it’s safer; of course, his son and stepdaughter agreed to it, Anakin didn’t have much of a choice. He stole a glimpse of Irele, who kept her vision forward; when she would turn to an angle where she’d have to face Anakin she kept her eyes on the ground, and would look in front when she’s gained distance from everyone else.

She and her own biological brother lack the comfort and warmth as siblings would share—especially in such a harrowing experience like losing a parent.

She’d rather prefer the comfort of a stone.

Settling herself on the sand, her handwoven scarf—made by her mother, no less—wrapping her little body from her desert chill, she spoke to Shmi’s headstone.

“Hi, Mom…” she sadly started. Unable to find the next, proper words, she had a silent moment in front of the grave, and rocked back and forth for a bit. “He’s quite taller than I expected. Though, I should’ve seen it coming. He is my big brother, after all.” She huffed out an awkward chuckle.

She scribbled on the sand and then would start over by brushing it with a single sweep of her hand. This would repeat as she spoke openly to the gravestone. For every passing moment, the tone of her voice would grow more somber and quieter, lacking the strength to let out another word than simply letting it go and cry.

“You know, he told me that he’d bring you home—but I never expected it to be in this way.”

There was a bitter taste in her mouth, she clicked her tongue, “He promised.”

No answer, of course. Nevertheless, the girl continued. Already yearning for her mother’s embrace.

“Had I known… I already had that feeling…! I should’ve come with you. I may be little but… You never doubted me. Thanks to that, I knew—I really knew—that I could fight them off, even for just a bit. If I did, I would have protected you. Then they never would have taken you away from me. I would have bought us time to escape… I would have called Dad and Owen—or anyone—for help.”

She hiccuped, picking up what’s left of her failing confidence, “I would have saved you.”

That wishful thinking then led her to finally releasing the tears she had been holding back all day.

“I miss you so much already, Mommy…”

Not even the warmth of her woven scarf blanketing her would be enough of a stand-in for Shmi’s hugs. It will never be. Being the only memory of her mother, it’s only a fragment of what Irele will remember of her.

She went to sleep quite late, understandably so.

–

The morning of the funeral, as promised, occurred. Cliegg gave his eulogy first, Irele had her turn on her eulogy next—she had not much to say, for she had already said everything in private last night—though she cannot be moved from where she knelt, then Anakin got on his knees right next to her.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you, Mom, and I hope you can forgive me too, for breaking my promise to my sister.”

Irele craned her head to her side but quickly withdrew it, facing the grave again.

The funeral was interrupted when the white and blue astromech droid R2D2 came to bear news. Padmé and Anakin prepared to retreat to the silver starship meters away from the homestead.

“Come with me,” Anakin whispered, he sounded demanding even in a low voice.

Irele attempted to harden her voice, to convey the conviction of her decision, “My place is here, Anakin. Like it or not, they’re my family. I can’t leave them.”

Anakin’s head bobbed downwards, and then the unexpected happened—in an attempt to comfort one another, both Irele and Anakin planted their hands on each other’s shoulders; he gave her small shoulder a tight squeeze, hers was gentle and somewhat faltering as if the toll of Shmi’s death has only begun to sink into her.

“May the Force be with you.” bid Anakin.

She didn’t know what to say back and simply watched her brother sprint towards the ship.

The Cliegg family watched the starship blow a plume of smoke underneath its landing gear, hovered, and then darted through the sky before vanishing like star come morning light.

For Irele, it’s back to her regular life here in Tatooine. Where she belongs.

Or so she thinks.

20 notes · View notes

pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

Sieghild’s Prayer, Part 1 (νοσταλγία Alt PoV)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader (kind of)

Summary: Sieghild reminisces about her life as the Priestess’/Reader’s mother, as she prays to the Goddesses she knows will answer.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: I don’t think many of the usual ones apply to this one. Death, mentions of it and death by burning if we are specific; but I don’t think many more. My horrible writing is one too but that’s part of the usual warnings too lol

A/N: The quote on the board/header is by Margaret Atwood on ‘two-headed poems’. As for the writing, there’s also something to credit: the poem/italic thingy is a piece by Edna St. Vincent Millay (Prayer to Persephone), that you can find here.

I don’t recommend reading this before chapter 12, ‘cause spoilers. You’ve been warned :)

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson

“You know me.” The King boasts, and Sieghild purses her lips.

“I would know Aslaug’s eyes anywhere.” Is all she gives as an answer. Kráka, the Danish men knew of her beauty and her magic, the women knew of her loneliness and her loss.

At the mention of his mother, the boy’s stance and expression tighten to a coil. He looks back at the shieldmaiden’s eyes and cocks his head to the side.

“What are you here for, hm?”

She prays she is not failing this quest; she prays the Gods are truly behind this. Let it be Freyja or let it be Persephone, but let her rest assured her daughter is looked over when Sieghild herself cannot do so.

She prays, and without much preamble states, “My daughter, I know you want her.”

“Your daughter?” The King mocks around a dismissive laugh, “And who is this daughter of yours? What’s her name?”

“You don’t know it. She doesn’t give it away easily.” The shieldmaiden is quick to retort, a small twitch in her nose that in her younger years would have been a snarl of anger. But the flare of recognition in Ivar the Boneless’ eyes is enough for her, enough for her to know that the Greek faced one of the most feared men in the known world and still acted as stubbornly and arrogantly as she knows her to act.

And it is enough for the shieldmaiden to know that, to her daughter’s salvation or downfall, it only makes the Viking all the more interested in having her to himself.

The King remains silent, looking coldly at the redhead for a few moments. But Sieghild holds his gaze, she has no qualms about rising to meet the eye of Kings, never has. And neither does her daughter.

“She’s not of our own.”

“She is still mine,” She retorts easily, as certain of this as of the Gods’ might. “I raised her, and I am the one that can offer her hand.”

The shieldmaiden bites back a smile at the way her words make the King falter.

“Her hand?”

“Stithulf cannot offer her marriage to you as an arrangement, for he has no claims on her blood or her family,” She explains, “She is free, and she is mine.”

“And you would be willing to give her up?” The boy inquires, piercing eyes searching hers, in them the very real threat of causing her a world of pain if she is to try and toy with him. When she nods, he pushes, “To me?”

“I do not want to, but…tis Fate that I do so.”

The King leans back on his seat, fingers by his mouth as he breathes deeply. Sieghild keeps her face impassive as she faces him.

“Fate.”

“Son of Aslaug, you more than I know of Freyja’s ways,” She answers without hesitation. “My daughter does not worship our Gods, but she does believe. And…maybe because of our Gods’ will, maybe hers, but her fate lies in Kattegat. I know she is to be left to you,” It hurts to admit this, it hurts like it did when she remembered the Seer’s words in that battlefield, when the foolish boy that once was promised her hand died in her arms and the world shifted one last time. Deciding not to dwell on it, the shieldmaiden pushes through, “And you know this too, don’t you?”

The arrogance, the pride, the satisfaction in the way the man now squares his shoulders, straightens himself in his seat does not surprise her; the spark of hope, of something innocent and fragile as he meets her eyes, that does. It also soothes at a part of her that has always hoped for a good life for her daughter, to see the man underneath the monster.

“Make your promise before the Gods and a witness then, shieldmaiden.”

A young man she assumes to be another son of Ragnar enters when the King calls for him, and after a few exchanged words, she is asked to make her vow.

With a deep breath and hoping this does not become one more of her regrets, the shieldmaiden vows, “May the Gods know Sieghild Vorsdottir, first wife to King Rorik, gives her only daughter to you, Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok.”

Be to her, Persephone.

All the things I might not be;

The child cries at night, she knows. She knows, but she does not know how to comfort her, how to promise her it will all be better when Sieghild herself does not know it yet.

The shieldmaiden struggles with the burden of caring for a girl with such light to her, with such gentleness and warmth. For all the grief and agony, that girl that is a daughter to so many remains enduring, even if with the stumbling optimism of a wide-eyed child.

“Look, Sieghild!” The girl calls in a giggle, appearing from behind a group of merchants with a bat in her small hands. The child looks down at the animal that burrows into her touch, and says, “They are sleeping now, they move at night.”

“I know, child,” The shieldmaiden offers, uncertain, inexperienced. But the girl does not mind, and when her eyes rise to meet Sieghild’s, the warrior finds herself smiling back, even if brokenly and unevenly. It is with careful approach, the gentleness of acting as a mother forced upon a woman used to being callous and harsh, that the shieldmaiden says, “They are messengers of Hödr, son of Odin, did you know?”

The child’s answer is instantaneous, “No, I haven’t met your Gods,” The strange phrasing makes a chuckle leave Sieghild’s lips, but she still brings a hand to rest in the girl’s head as she returns the bat and starts walking once again by the warrior’s side. After a few moments of silence, Sieghild feels big and curious eyes on her, and lowers her gaze to find a child’s hopeful expression. “Tell me about Hödr?”

She nods, and starts relaying the same tales she was once told, when her hair was wild and feet wet from the sea. And the child listens, eyes wide and smile easy past the agony of loss and the heat of repression.

And later that night when they have settled around the dying bonfire, Sieghild tells her about Freya’s magic, and her ways of war and love, the girl rests her head on her hand, looking up into the green eyes of the woman that takes care of her now.

“Do your Gods talk to you, Sieghild?”

“Sometimes, they aid me,” The shieldmaiden answers slowly, “Why?”

“Could you…ask Freyja something for me?” The child’s voice wavers, and she looks unbearably innocent and afraid. A burden no child of less than seven moons should have to carry. The redhead nods quietly, and the girl whispers, “Why did this happen?”

“You want my Gods to answer that?”

The child shrugs, “Mine haven’t.”

It is with a heavy sigh that the shieldmaiden leans forward, putting a hand unused to gentleness as gently as possible on the child’s face, and pressing lips that know only the taste of blood to seal a kiss on the Greek’s head.

“Suffering is just suffering, little one,” Sieghild whispers, her name and her story know this better than anyone, “If it is the Gods’ or the Fates’ will, I cannot know. What isn’t in the Gods’ hands is how you choose to act now.”

“What do you mean?”

The woman puts a finger on the metal amulet depicting the Twelve Olympians alongside the Gods of their Underworld, hanging from the child’s neck as a stubborn promise to keep her home, her legacy, close to her heart.

“You cannot choose what will happen to you, but you can choose how much you will let it change you.”

Like being a mother, Sieghild thinks. She never asked to have the girl with the fiery eyes and relentless spirit under her wing, seeking her guidance; but she has her now, wide eyes and tongue with unending questions.

And she chooses to let it turn her into what this child needs: a mother. Maybe not the gentle, poised, elegant one she once knew, but the one that can teach her the ways of the world, that can teach her to stand tall, to never bite her tongue.

That night, when they settle in the tent, Sieghild catches herself reaching with rough and war-torn fingers to soothe over the unfamiliar tresses of the girl’s hair. The child quietens, and a murmur of thanks in the language the shieldmaiden has been teaching her is the last sound in the tent that night.

Take her head upon your knee.

She that was so proud and wild,

Flippant, arrogant and free,

The Viking eyes the girl with curious eyes, but remains silent as she watches her talk in the language of the Roads, still so foreign to her Greek tongue.

“Touch me again and you will not have hands to touch with.” The Greek girl hisses without hesitation, and even if she cannot look at the men in the eye without tilting back her head, even if it is evident that she does not know how to end a life or how to defend her own; the shieldmaiden notices that everyone pauses for a moment.

The child’s parents would be proud, Sieghild hopes, to see their daughter become a woman in her own right, a leader that has not found her people yet, a ruler that needs only to fool a man into trusting her to gain control over the whole Mediterranean.

“Is that a threat, vixen?” The merchant laughs, the distaste for the people with the Byzantine looks and blood not something Sieghild can blame him for.

“It’s a promise. Now, will you pay me for my work?” The young woman insists, and Sieghild sees every bit of herself in her own youth when the Greek girl straightens her back and looks at the Arabian man in the eye, a challenge and an insult all in one.

The merchant moves for the sword at his waist, but the shieldmaiden is quicker. The edge of her blade finds the man’s neck before he can move to try and attack her child.

“Oh, I should have mentioned I am not alone,” The Greek laughs, a false bravado guiding her steps, “Should I call for the rest of the Varangians, or will my friend here suffice?”

The man eyes her dangerously for a moment, but finally throws the pouch of gold at the girl’s feet, and walks away from her and the shieldmaiden.

“Sieghild, did you see me?” The girl calls forth in an excited whisper, both hands grabbing a hold of the shieldmaiden’s arm. When she turns to look at the Greek girl, she catches the tremble in her frame, the fear still making her mouth tremble.

“I did,” She acquiesces, “Girl, what would you have done if he had chosen to fight? There are no Vikings here to aid me, or you.”

“I know that, but he didn’t,” She answers, delighted in her own madness. “They know better than to pick fights with your people.”

For a moment the shine in her eyes would make Sieghild think her naiveté is born out of her age, but the Greek has the face and body of a woman now, the ambitions of one too.

No, that girl’s light is born out of stubbornness, not innocence.

As they walk out of the house and towards the road once again, horses at their sides and a world ahead of them, Sieghild asks her,

“Where do you want to go now, little one?”

“Where would you take us?” The girl asks instead, a shine in her eye the shieldmaiden hopes she never loses.

After a breath, Sieghild answers, “I would take you back to my home. The Danes would be beautiful by time we arrive.”

“I thought you never wanted to return.” The Greek argues, but in her eyes her mother sees the glint of curiosity, the pull to agree.

“The world has changed, child. We could find a new life in Scandinavia. Ragnar Lothbrok is rumored to conquer Paris soon, a Danish woman rules over his kingdom, Vikings are stronger than ever before.”

“You sound proud.”

“Maybe I am, or maybe I’m just overcome with nostalgia,” Sieghild concedes, wondering not for the first time if she should tell the child what the Seer of Kattegat once told her of her fated return to the coastal city. Instead, she keeps her eyes on the orange skies ahead, and murmurs, “Maybe the Gods are summoning me home.”

She that had no need of me,

Is a little lonely child

Lost in Hell,- Persephone,

She finds her on the same altar she found her the night the Christians burned her mother. The one sheltered by familiar woods, depicting the Goddess that was half monster and half maiden sitting on her throne.

The young girl is furiously cleaning the dust and dirt from the old stone, reclaiming the altar from the vines and weeds that want it for themselves.

Sieghild knows her child is aware of her approach, but the frantic hands still clean at the old stone, the breaths are still labored, the cries are still muffled past gritted teeth.

“Talk to me, child.”

“They want to make me Hiereia,” The girl breathes out, quickly, as if the words were trapped behind her lips waiting for a chance to come out. It always was that way with her, at the end. All barely-contained enthusiasm and prideful honesty in her tongue. “I have no idea how to be what they want me to.”

“Then don’t.”

“It is not that simple!” The Greek bites out, hands clenched into fists, “They needed me here, I was off traveling the world while they needed me!”

“You are not your mother, so they can stick their needs right up th-…”

“Sieghild, please,” The girl breathes out, almost a chuckle leaving her lips, “I carry her legacy, even if I like to pretend I don’t. They make me Hiereia, they look to me for guidance, they…see her in me.”

“And you are happy with that?”

The girl starts shaking her head, but stops herself. Since arriving into this warm and sunny city, Sieghild realizes, her child seems to bite her tongue so much more than even when facing Arab mercenaries, seems to keep her madness under control even if she didn’t when sailing on a downtrodden ship over the Aegean, seems to carry a heavier burden in her shoulders than when she was left in charge of looking over a village that had fallen to a plague.

And Sieghild cannot help but hate this city for it. Hate this city, its people, its Gods; for asking a free woman to be slave to her past, to her legacy.

The girl finally answers, hesitating, “I…don’t know if I want them to see me at all.”

“What do you want, then?” Sieghild asks, maybe callously, maybe brashly, but her child knows better than to think it is not born out of love.

“Freedom?”

“Are you asking me?”

The Greek shakes her head, and the shieldmaiden watches as she straightens her shoulders, steels her very soul for the storm her desires will bring. A part of Sieghild will always want to protect her, keep the child at her side so that she is certain she is safe from men and power and both combined.

But the other part of her, the part of her that taught the Greek girl to wage war and fight -in her own, strange ways- for what she wants, that part of her longs for the day she sees her daughter rise to the height she is owed.

And the Greek woman whispers, “No. I…want freedom, for my people and for me. I want…would it be wrong to want retribution as well?”

“Revenge?”

The answer is a simple phrase in the girl’s lips, “They took my home from me, mother.”

A few moments of silence, and the Viking offers her the truth she knows, “No, it is not wrong, little one.”

“Then that’s what I want,” The Greek sentences, standing up and facing the statue of her Goddess with a new kind of fire in her eyes, “I want to be free, and I want to make them pay for the chains. No matter what it takes.”

Take her head upon your knee;

Say to her, “My dear, my dear,

It is not so dreadful here.”

She watches from the darkness as they take her child away, as the frail girl with a gentle heart is carried off in chains. The shieldmaiden cannot keep the smile from her weary lips as she watches her walk with the stubborn pride of a noblewoman, the relentlessness her mother left her with, the resilience Sieghild likes to believe she taught her.

Her child’s fire is still there, and Sieghild wonders for a moment if the youngest son of Ragnar knows the kind of inferno he got himself into.

And the Saxons retreat with their debts paid, and the shieldmaiden has no place to go for her home was the warm laughter, the stubborn frowns, the gentle heart of the girl she raised as her own.

Still, she shoulders her axe and starts a path to wherever Freyja may take her.

She dreamed many times of bringing her daughter to Scandinavia, have her see how big the world truly is, past the Silk Roads, past the Greeks and the Arabs, past the Byzantines and their laws.

She dreamed of returning home, having left a wanderer and returning a mother. She dreamed many times of growing old looking over that stubborn child and watching her be happy at the side of a lucky man, of being gifted grandchildren to spoil and teach the ways of the Gods like she taught her daughter, of fighting again or being a rallying voice for young shieldmaidens and communicating again with Freyja the way she has always known: war.

She dreamed of many things, and for many years she has carried those dreams, those old hopes and even older pains.

But now there’s no time for dreams. She greets the faces that recognize her when she arrives in King Angantyr’s hall, trying not to react when an old name reaches her ears.

____

So yeah, idk, I hope you liked it.

Thank you for reading, part 2 will be up right after this one, hope you like it. Best wishes! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist

15 notes · View notes

remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

Title: safety net

Pairing: daryl dixon / original female character

Chapter: one

Summary: In a world designed to test your humanity, a woman fights to keep hers. But she walks a fine line between staying human and welcoming death and darkness. [ S2 - S4 ]

The light coloured gaze that belongs to a lone female almost darkens in frustration as she notices the sky beginning to dull and bleed into beautiful tones that always signified the oncoming approach of the night and the glistening stars that could only be seen more prominently ever since the world had passed its very own death day. Light pollution has become a thing of the past. Cassie hadn’t meant to stay out so late, but she had wanted to prove to herself and members of the Greene family that she was able to survive out in the town as she scavenged for things that would be useful to them.

Maggie had made many trips into town, always refusing Cassie’s help. Now, whether or not that was because she couldn’t trust her friend to hold her own, she doesn’t know but this was something that would only bring concrete proof that she was able to survive. She lets out a sigh at the whole situation, digging into her backpack for the half full bottle of water that she’d managed to ration very well -- you couldn’t be too careful those days. Such as when you lose track of time and end up staying out hours later than you should. They’re so gonna kill me later Cassie mentally remarks to herself, she thought it would be a quick trip but she’d gotten too distracted by trying to be useful.

The woman drops the bottle back into the backpack as she drags her feet along the cooling dirt that had suffered the heat from the punishing Georgian sun. She scans every building in her line of sight, call her a perfectionist but all she can see are the defects with the potential safe shelter. Are you trying to die out here? she asks, as she thinks negatively to herself. Too many breaks in that window, that door looks weak, not enough exit routes. The slow dragging of a pair of feet and snarls causes her to turn suddenly, she hates this part. Cassie knows she can handle herself, she’d done so with those things before she’d found refuge at her old school friend’s farm but it isn’t something she enjoys. It wouldn’t even be the first thing she wished to do, but it had to be done.

I don’t have to like it but I’ll do it.

Gripping the knife, Cassie slowly advances to meet the dead being halfway, studying its movements intently -- a few seconds and it’s over. She pulls the knife from their head with little less fight than she was used to, I’m getting better at this she comments to herself in her mind, though a heavy feeling soon begins to settle in her heart as she realises that this person used to have life. They used to have friends and family, they used to have bills to pay, they used to have favourite songs to sing along to. They were human. Cassie doesn’t want to believe that she disregarded their humanity so easily in favour of thinking about herself and how well she was able to cope.

This is what you were afraid of. You’re losing yourself faster than you thought.

She pushes herself up harshly with a verbal shudder, tears beginning to build. She rubs her eyes with force to banish them away and sniffs. The young woman needs to collect herself before she finds herself in a situation she can’t get out of. One of the things she has feared ever since killing the first of those things was losing her humanity.. even before the world turned she knew how despicable people could become. She didn’t want to think about who she could become if she survived this world, Cassie didn’t want to lose her light or her life -- the world was dark as it was.

As if planned perfectly, her eyes settle on an aging liquor store.The cobwebs and dried spray paint were visible from the distance she sadly stood. I remember that, she mused fondly. It was when she and some friends were caught trying to convince someone to buy a bottle of alcohol for them as teenagers - before her father forced them to move out of the town to the next one over. It was a strange sight to see, how these places that held so much life now dead and silent.

Still, the stone walls and bars on the windows are perfect and wash a warming comfort over her entire body, it was safe enough to spend the night in. She only prays silently that trouble doesn’t follow in her path.

A small grunt of effort is dropped into the open air from her parted lips as she dedicates little energy and force to open the doors into the building. People had been there before her, the assumption is only confirmed when she makes her way through the door and scans the area - everything, empty. A disbelieving chuckle erupts from her. The end of the world where the dead roam the Earth and what do people go and do? They leave the shelves bare from bottles of alcohol. When you need your wits about you and they want themselves inebriated, Cassie didn’t want to believe it. Human nature was still a surprising thing.

With a bicycle lock secured to prevent anything or anyone gaining entry into her temporary housing, the woman allows herself some steady breaths before she overturns one of the few chairs from it’s upside down position on the floor to sit down on it. There isn’t much effort when she lifts the bag to the table, not much was left to scavenge. Cassie is happy with what she did get however, smiling to herself when she pulls out dried food that would be beneficial in the long run and the batteries that would be needed soon. There were a few other trinkets that may or may not be of use but she proved something to herself -- and for that, she learnt something about herself.

Despite laying herself on the floor to sleep, it doesn’t come easy. Her mind is too preoccupied with the noises from the outside of the building, sometimes they were too close to be able to tell if they belonged to the living or the dead. She tries, however, to give a mighty fight with her own mind to fall asleep by scrutinising the dust that littered the creaky floors but it’s a fight she’s destined to be defeated in. When she finally spots sunlight beginning to break through the clouds to fill the dirtied room, Cassie makes no hesitation in deciding it is a good enough alarm clock. She swiftly realises that she isn’t going to be getting anymore sleep and she’d rather be back at the farm anyway.

There’s an energetic spring in her step despite the lack of sleep she had been able to get but that doesn’t matter, she’s happy to be home soon. The nagging thought of Maggie and her family being furious with her lack of notification of her whereabouts lay heavily on her soul -- though she was good with confrontation though, her patience was almost never ending.

Her heart beats rapidly as she spots a group of people she had never laid eyes on in her life, they surrounded one of the wells on the property, standing out against the warm shades of the ever growing grass and oversized bushes that were everywhere. The only solace granted to her weary soul is that Maggie is standing with them and does not appear to be in any distress by their presence. She cautiously steps closer and closer to the scene, mentally placing the pieces to make a puzzle -- yet even then it’s as if her fingers are trying to force pieces that do not fit together.

“ Maggie! What’s going on? “ she calls out to her friend, closing the distance between them with each growing second.

“ Ca- where have you been ?! “ Maggie shouts, ignoring the question put to her. Maggie storms forward to her friend, eyes have been ignited with a growing fire as she sets her sight on the other woman.

“ I went out on a run, I .. I just lost track of time, I guess. “ Cassie shrugs effortlessly with an upbeat tone despite the tense atmosphere.

“ How do you lose track of time? “ scoffs Maggie, she could feel the panic merging with the pain in her veins to form a melted pot of furiosity. “ You didn’t -? We didn’t know where you were! Cassie, Otis is dead. “

The optimistic glow that had powered her journey back to the home is instantaneously diminished until it’s no more than dying embers as she allows the words Maggie had just spoken to her to soak in completely. The bag that she held on one shoulder fell to the hay covered grass with a flat thud as she moves closer to her friend to embrace her. In the time Cassie had known the man, he was nothing more than a gentle giant. She can physically feel her heart break into pieces at their loss, the woman clinging to Maggie as she disregards the others who watch curiously momentarily.

“ Mag’s.. I’m so sorry. “

“ Come on, let’s get you back. “ Maggie speaks, pulling away from Cassie. She tries to paint a lighter image on her features as this. She was grateful that her friend had not suffered a fate that is a mirror image to that of Otis. “ Everyone will be happy to know you’re here. “

“ What happened to him? Who are they? “ she asks with curiosity, as she’s led back by her friend with an arm around her shoulder.

“ They showed up last night, one of their guy’s with an injured kid on our doorstep. '' the two walk up the steps of the large house, facing one another. “ Couldn’t exactly say no. They showed up after. “

A storm slowly battles its through the woman’s features as she tries to come to terms with how inverted their situation had quickly become in the hours she had not been present, she doesn’t want to shed her tears in front of strangers but you never expected to lose your friends or family under such circumstances. She brings both of her hands to wipe her face - as if to wash the pain away until it was no more than a ghost across her image.

“ He died gettin’ equipment dad needed to help their boy. “

Cassie is hardly looking forward to any lecture that every Greene in the household probably had for her absence. She admits to herself she should have told them that she was going but her stubbornness prevented her, to her, it was just a quick trip. However quick trips were not to the corner stores now, but what used to be people’s own homes. Their sanctuaries that now have become their graves.. providing they were not graced with the blessing to escape from one nightmare into another, one they had more control over.

Her knees bob up and down at a brisk pace as she watches Hershel walk into the room from her seated position on the plush couch in the living room.

“ What you did was very irresponsible, Cassie. We wouldn’t have been able to send anyone out after you. Between the boy and Otis.. “ Hershel’s tones are filled to the brim with disappointment, especially as they had the little boy to deal with.

The eye contact shared is broke harshly, she’s unable to hold the connection under the burden of his disappointment.

“ I’m sorry, I mean it. But you guys wouldn’t let me out! Even with Maggie. “

“ You must understand there’s a reason for these decisions. You might not understand now, but down the road. “ Hershel replies gently, his voice is a step above a whisper. He’d known the woman since she was a child -- Maggie and her were both so close as children.

A cynical laugh hangs in the air over those in the room, she hates to be so disrespectful to the family who has handed her security with the seclusion the farm provides. On a rare occasion she would find herself forgetting that the world had collapsed into itself, the serenity providing her a peace that was often a missing part that her soul craved from time to time. Cassie certainly doesn't want to offend anyone but she needs them to realise that she wasn’t naive as she may present herself to be, she knows how the world works.. though his denial would prove a burdensome load on that plan of hers.

“ I understand! I mean it that I’m super grateful for everything, but you need to realise. It’s not what you think! “ she argues, feeling a tingle in the very ends of her fingertips from the emotion she felt.

“ I don’t want anyone in this house getting sick, that was the risk that you took without consulting us and it’s something that I can’t allow to happen again. “

Guilt begins to overwhelm her shuddering body, she knew she did wrong and it was the circumstances that really threw her plan of independence into the deep river of inconveniences but it was a battle she would lose and she knows it’s best not to argue. She truly does feel bad that she had added onto the Greene family’s stress those two days, she prefers not to burden people after all -- knowing there had been incidents in the past that had been out of her control yet she brought down the spectacle from time to time. However, within the dark corners of her mind she yearns to intently to yell at him, to scream they’re not sick but rather they are dead. Hershel was a man in denial, and there was nothing harder to break than a man who cannot confront the truth that is right in front of him.

“ You’re right, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. “

“ Look -- “ Hershel leans forward, and clasped his hands together. He could see both of her parents in her. “ I promised your father you would be safe here, and if you’re not here that can’t happen. “

“ May I be excused? “ she asks the man, inching towards the end of her seat.

Hershel simply nods, he’d also rather wash his hands of the situation, especially as they had bigger things to worry about now. The new additions to the farm did not taste so sweet on his tongue and the sooner the boy was ready and healthy, the sooner they could leave.

As Cassie stands before the declining state of the mirror, small particles of dust lining the mirror as a light blanket she washes the cooling liquid running from the tap over her face. She can hear the voices from the unknown new arrivals from the open window, needless to say she was curious of the new situation but, there was also a sense of dread clawing its way from her gut. She had a bad feeling that a storm was on its way.

AN: okay this is the first time writing for twd and im nervous and excited, especially as i'm not used to writing in this style! but i hope this will be something you will like soooo just let me know what you liked or what could be done better! we'll be having team family interactions next!

#twd fic #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon x oc #the walking dead fic #twd imagine #the walking dead fanfic

12 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

Lucid Dream

Category: Hurt and Comfort, Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Naruto

Characters: Shikamaru Nara, Sakura Haruno

EDIT: This beautiful piece of artwork was made by the lovely @deliathedork who just can’t seem to stop spoiling me rotten with all the presents! TT.TT Please give her some love too! She is very, very talented!

Bonjour, mes amis! Here’s today’s story for ShikaSaku Week Hanami, prompt “Drip, Drip, Drip (Our Blood). For some reason I really like writing in Shikamaru’s POV… Anyway, enjoy~

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The slow, melodic sound was the first thing to greet Shikamaru as he phased into consciousness. His vision rolled as he forced his eyes open but could only manage to part his eyelids into a small slit for the overwhelming nausea that engulfed him upon doing so. Eyelashes fluttering like a trembling leaf as he struggled to keep his eyes open and survey his surroundings and current situation, the water kept dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip. Dust was dancing in thin brown clouds all around him. It was dark save for a few spearing shafts of light pouring down from large, gaping holes in the ceiling.

A ceiling- he was in a building, or what was left of it. Chunks of the wall and roof were littered around him in great heaping gobs of crushed stone, with little pebbles and normal-sized rocks scattered around like their voluminous brood. Glass intermingled with the carnage, glowing with sheen as they reflected the harsh sunlight invading the dark space. Shikamaru turned his head to his left, though the muscles in his neck and shoulders screamed loudly in protest, to find a cavernous expanse stretching out just beside him. The floor- and the three stories underneath- lie far below in an indistinct collection of rubble. Illuminated by the sunlight below, a large red puddle bloomed on the smooth surface of one of the rock faces, a lake of blood that splintered off into many rivers that meandered into the cracks.

Drip. Another bead of blood bloomed on the tip of his finger from where his arm was slung carelessly into the void, then detached itself to fall down, down, down and splash into the puddle below. Blood. His blood, to be exact. It was a lot. How was he bleeding so much?

The spike of twisted metal embedded through his lower abdomen provided that answer. The jade green of his vest was dyed a dark brown where the blood had seeped into the thick fabric. He shifted slightly and could feel the sticky mass of blood squelching against his backside, traveling all the way down his left leg. The stretch of floor that he was laying on was sloped downwards and to the left, allowing the blood to run up his body, catch on his left arm, and pool on his hand before gravity stole it away.

“Well, shit,” he wheezed. His right arm twitched as he tried to move it, but the muscles were hesitant to comply at first. Slowly, he eased his arm up; his right hand shook violently that it made tremors wrack all the way up to his shoulder. Somehow, he wrapped his hand around the spear of metal that was jutting out of his stomach and gave it an experimental tug. All he earned himself was shooting pain blooming like flower petals from the epicenter of his wound; his head smacked back against the concrete as he hissed loudly in agony. That certainly wasn’t budging. It was probably his luck that the metal was worked into the concrete and had bent upon the building collapsing, and he had landed right on top of it. Pulling it out was counter-productive anyway; he would bleed out almost instantaneously. Shikamaru’s eyebrows threaded together as he fought to remember how he had ended up in such a drag in the first place.

The memories threaded like beads of dew on a spiderweb, spaced far apart but no less interconnected; he recalled something about raiding a suspected drug cartel compound. He tugged at the thread in his mind, hoping that all the dew beads would merge to form a coherent series of events. Green eyes and pink hair suddenly clouded him memories. Sakura, that’s right, he was with Sakura in the fifth-floor raid party; to catch the enemy unawares, they had planned to attack every floor at once to keep those on the upper floors from barricading themselves in or utilizing a secret escape route. It had been going all fine and dandy until some nutjob had decided to strap a bunch of paper bombs to himself to become a martyr. They had been in far too close quarters for the both of them to escape, and Shikamaru’s brightest idea at the time had been to wrench Sakura out of the window then dive for the stairs. The paper bombs had exploded and the floor had collapsed, and apparently, Shikamaru had ended up here.

Drip. Drip. Drip. The blood continued to accumulate in the rubble below.

Sakura… Is she okay? The girl was by no means a slouch, but she probably hadn’t expected to be flung off the fifth floor of a building, either. Shikamaru ought to be concerned with himself, but his thoughts were bent on the medical ninja. He could’ve killed her, really. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that were the case. Of all the things, that stupid set of decisions? He should’ve reacted faster. There were any number of alternate scenarios that could’ve unfolded, but that had been the one he had opted for. God, he was an idiot. If she did live, he almost hoped he did die to spare himself the beating he was sure to catch later.

Wow. He was actually acting like he was going to make it out of this alive. His vision, already fuzzing black around the edges, settled once more on the sharp metal bit jutting out of his abdomen. Shikamaru felt bile rise up in the back of his throat as he felt the acidic tang of fear beginning to flood his mouth. His grip tightened around the iron, as if his hand alone could shatter it. Waves of tingling numbness began to course over his body, head to toe. Then there was that goddamned dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip. It pulsed loudly in his eardrums like tinnitus, sending spikes of pain shooting into his skull with each accursed drop. He didn’t want to die. It’s not like Shikamaru was the biggest go-getter, but still, there were things he wanted to accomplish in life before kicking the bucket. He had to see Naruto become Hokage. More than that, he had to be that dumbass’s advisor, because he sure didn’t trust anyone else to do it. God, even though it was a drag, he wanted to get married, maybe have a kid or two, watch them grow up… Maybe, then, maybe he could die- but not right now. Not yet.

Sakura.

Maybe the blood loss was making him delirious. He was trying to keep his breath from coming in ragged, shallow gasps, because the faster he breathed, the faster the blood pumped through his veins, and the faster his blood began to drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Had it sped up? How long had it been since the building collapsed? One minute? Ten? How close was he to death, actually?

Sakura.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Girls were a drag. Shikamaru had always thought so. Seeing Ino and Sakura butt heads like fighting mountain goats was enough to solidify that in his brain. Yet… Somehow they had become less of a drag, over time. Especially her. Especially Sakura. He admired her, even. She was a bit feisty, but he preferred that to a total giggly fake pushover. She was smart, so he could hold intelligent conversation with her. She was strong, stupidly so, which meant Shikamaru never had to worry. Of course he hadn’t hurt her throwing her out of the building. It was Sakura, after all. She probably hurt the ground rather than the other way around.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He was definitely delirious. His vision swam like swirling water before his hazy eyes. He didn’t even have the strength to hold his head up any more. One minute? Ten? It felt like a lifetime. He was definitely delirious, because he was regretting not telling her that he loved her. When did that happen? They hung out, sure. They were often paired on missions because they worked well together. He’d walked her home after they went out to dinner a couple times, but that was just work stuff. Friend stuff, if he was being generous.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Did he think about her sometimes? Sure, but his mind just wandered like that. Wandered, to her pink hair like the cherry blossoms in bloom, to her spring green eyes that sparkled like a beautiful sea they had seen once in a mission out of the country, to her beautiful smile that shone like the sun itself. He had to be delirious, because he could see her before his waking eyes, calling his name with tears in those eyes like new spring growth.

“Shikamaru! Shikamaru, can you hear me?”

Was she actually there? Was she an illusion? Shikamaru really couldn’t tell. Everything around her was a smudge of indistinct grays and blacks and browns with those burning streaks of white light, yet she was so crisp and clear. His eyes settled on an abnormality, on the trail of bright red blood streaming down the side of her face from a gash in her forehead. Was that his fault? It traveled down her cheek, mixing with her pouring tears, down to her chin, where it beaded like a red jewel and dropped down onto his vest. Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Sakura… You’re… Bleeding…” Was that his voice? It sounded so garbled, like a frog croaking. His whole body was numb at this point, and the only point he knew that he had actually lifted up his hand was when it appeared in his line of sight. His trembling thumb gently swept over the thin laceration as his expression contorted into one of regret. “Sorry…”

“What? This? No, no, this is nothing!” Maybe it was his imagination, but she seemed to lean into his touch, cheek brushing into his palm. “Shikamaru, you saved me. I would have died in that explosion if you hadn’t pushed me out of the way.” His mouth twisted into a pitiful rendition of a smile. She wasn’t mad. No beating for him. He was finally catching a stroke of luck. That lovely pink hair of her whirled as she whipped her head around to shout at Naruto and Kiba, who were finally ascending the half-broken stairs to assist her.

“Sakura, you shouldn’t have run up the stairs like that! They’re all half-collapsed, believe it! We almost died!”

“Yeah, like, three times.”

“Shut up and help me!” Her voice was high-pitched, nearly manic. The tone demanded their will to comply. Shikamaru’s breath was rattling in his lungs now. It felt like it was water he was breathing, not oxygen, heavy and suffocating. He could vaguely hear the two boys suck in horrified gasps when they neared him, and Sakura vaguely instructing them to hold him still as she bent off the end of the pole. She stood over him, one foot on either side of his hips, while Naruto crouched down at his head to push his palms into his chest. Sakura grasped the end of the pole and charged her fists with chakra, and then bent the piece of metal as close as she dare to the gaping hole that was his wound.

The vibrations alone were enough to send Shikamaru’s legs to spasming, and Kiba had to dive on them to keep him from accidentally kicking her away. Short pained cries left his mouth, dignity ignored. It of course didn’t snap immediately; she had to bend it back and forth, working weakness into the metal until it finally broke, snapping off in a jagged point just above his heaving belly. “Shikamaru, this is going to hurt like hell.”

“Wha- AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGH!” he howled as the three of them all but jerked him off the remaining short spike of metal. The barbed end ripped through his flesh with fervor, sending more blood spurting into the air and his vision flaring white as he fought desperately against fainting. His entire body burned like he was being submerged in lava, but especially that small circle of agony in his lower abdomen. As soon as they had him on the ground again, Sakura was straddling his waist with her hands pressed deep into his wound, dying them a dark red that he could even see through the hemisphere of green healing chakra; his body continued to twitch with lingering tendrils of fiery pain wracking his nervous system. He was wheezing as his wide eyes attempted to fixate on her trembling form but failing miserably as they danced with white and black spots. He could feel the light tremors against his body. Her tears continued to flow, gathering on the end of her chin to splash down below.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“S-Saku… ra… I…”

“No. Don’t you do that,” she growled at him. Her green eyes, alight with furious fire, snapped up to meet his. “You’re not dying. Not here. Not like this. I won’t let you.” He couldn’t help but allow the tired smirk to form on his lips. So angry all the time. It was amazing how much roiling rage was pent up in that petite body.

His hand was moving again. It settled in her threads of disheveled pink hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Stop moving. It makes this harder,” she ordered, but with much less bark. Shikamaru ignored her, going to tug on the neck of her shirt to get her attention. “What?” What he mumbled, she could not here. A faint tinge of pink arose to her cheeks, but whether that was from embarrassment or ire, she wasn’t sure. She shifted such that she was now kneeling by his side, allowing her to both continue administering medical ninjutsu to his wound and leaning close to his face. “What did you say?”

“Just in case,” he wheezed in a hoarse laugh, and with the last of his strength, he pushed his head up so he could press a light kiss to her lips. He actually managed to hold it for a few seconds before his head smacked back down to the concrete. She stared owlishly down at him for a few seconds more. She would probably still hit him even in his condition for pulling a stunt like that, but hey. “Don’t look at me like that,” he simpered weakly. “You’re not one to deny a dying man his first kiss, are you?” A trail of blush blazed across her cheeks like a sudden wildfire.

“Idiot,” she grumbled, looking back down to his wound. “You think I’m going to let you die now…?” He quirked his eyebrow at her soft features. Was that a smile he saw? He would’ve thought she would be angry. He yelped loudly when she suddenly applied more pressure to his abdomen. “Idiot! I’m gonna heal this stupid wound of yours so I can kill you myself! Jeez, men, can’t even handle a scratch before they start getting weird ideas in their head!” she raged loudly, and in tandem, her green chakra flared all the brighter and became bubbly and unfocused around the edges. He sputtered out apologies as the force of her fists against his stomach literally bent his spine and forced him to sit up a little.

“Yeesh, Sakura,” Naruto frowned at her. “I thought it was kinda romantic, actually…”

“Yeah, if I was a girl, I’d swoon,” Kiba agreed with his arms crossed.

“Shut up! You two want some of this?! Why don’t you go and make yourself useful with the clean-up effort before they’re washing your blood off the walls!” The two followed her advice and made a hasty retreat. She began muttering under her breath about their incompetency, which made him chuckle slightly. He soon regretted that, because it flared that flower of pain in his belly again.

“Ouch…”

“That was reckless,” she scolded him quietly. It took him a second to register that he was referring to his abomination of a strategy earlier.

“I know. I probably could’ve come up with something better if I had been thinking straight.” He could talk in longer sentences now without gasping for air, so he supposed his chances of dying were now slimmer.

“You? Not thinking straight?”

“I was too busy thinking about how I didn’t want you to die.” Her mouth folded in on itself as she blushed darker. She looked away, likely because she was embarrassed for him to see. A long period of silence unfolded between them, a book with blank pages. Shikamaru wasn’t sure of what he wanted to write there. Perhaps it didn’t need to be written at all.

“You…” she sighed, looking back to him finally as she removed her hands from his abdomen. “I’ve stopped the bleeding and sealed the wound shut, but it’s only a temporary fix. You need surgery. Move too much and you’ll bust it open again.”

“Moving too much? Doesn’t sound like me.”

“You could have died!” she shouted at him suddenly. Despite what he had just said, he flinched violently, and his hand shot to the half-closed wound as it snarled in protest. His eyebrows were knitted together as he stared up at her face, twisted in agony and regret. “You could’ve died,” she repeated, more softly, “and I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had.” She hung her head. He watched those tears, tinged pink with the blood still leaking from her forehead cut, drip down onto her lap. Drip. Drip. Drip.

He clenched his teeth tightly, forcing himself up onto his elbows, then pushing off to unsteadily pull himself into a sitting position. He slung his arms loosely around the crying girl, half in a consoling embrace and half in a gesture to ensure he didn’t fall right back down. He pushed his head into hers, his dark black strands weaving with those lovely pink ones.

“But I didn’t,” he breathed into her scalp, “because you saved me.” He felt her shaking hands screw into the fabric of the back of his vest as she held onto him tightly. Her face was buried into his shoulder, smearing it with blood and tears and low sobs.

Surely, he was no longer delirious.

He slipped his hand under her head to grasp her gently by the chin, lifting up her face. Somehow, it was possible for her to still be incredibly beautiful, even with her face smeared with dirt and smudged with blood and her expressed scrunched up into misery. Those bright green eyes peeked out at him through thick, tear-heavy lashes. “You saved me,” he repeated comfortingly. Her eyes flickered a few times before falling to his lips. Her gaze rested there for a moment.

“Just in case.” Her voice was like a breath among howling wind, nearly inaudible. She closed her eyes as she leaned into kiss him. This time, her lips molded fully into his, and he relished how soft and pliant they felt under his. With a hunger he had never known, he devoured her in passionate, starving kisses, pushing against her such that she had to brace herself with her palms flat against the concrete, back bent at a dramatic angle. His were holding her face in place as he kissed her fervently, over and over and over until both their mouths were sore and bruised. That ache in him wasn’t even close to being filled, but he forced himself to pull back regardless, mostly because his head was beginning to swim again. He laughed breathily as his forehead fell into her shoulder, and her arms jumped up to wrap around his broad back.

“Rest,” she cajoled him. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“When I wake up, will this all have been some sort of twisted lucid dream?” he laughed wryly.

“No,” she laughed and pressed a kiss into the top of his head. “Not a dream.” Shikamaru decided to take that at face value and practically melted into her, allowing all of his muscles to finally relax. As he breathed in air, Sakura’s scent wafted in with it, a blend of strawberries and cream and the fresh spring breeze.

Even if he never woke up, he was pretty content with going out this way, held in the arms of the woman he daresay he loved while the sunlight warmed his back… Of course, it would be nice if he did wake up, lucid dream or not.

After all, there was a lot he still had left to do… Marry a girl, maybe have a kid or two, watch them grow up… retire to a home in the countryside, with cherry blossoms blooming in the brilliance of spring, and be greeted every morning by that smile that rivaled the glow of the very sun.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork @searchfortheonepiece @shikasaku-week

#shikasakuweek #shikasaku week #shikasku-week #shikasakuweek hanami #shikasaku week hanami #shikasaku #shikamaruxsakura #shikamaru x sakura #sakura x shikamaru #sakuraxshikamaru #sakura haruno #haruno sakura #shikamaru nara #nara shikamaru #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic

42 notes · View notes

drjackandmissjo · 4 years

Text

firewhisky on ice, sunset and vine

you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

chapter 1 --- next chapter

Harry Potter fic masterlist

Set in the course of his Sixth Year, this story follows Slytherin's finest, Blaise Zabini, as he navigates classes and friendships and Death Eaters and a certain idiot plant-head Gryffindor.

Sixth year had started nicely: Blaise had been asked to join the Slug Club, and his mother had yet to find a new disposable rich husband and was leaving him the space to do whatever he wanted. Despite Draco's father being thrown in Azkaban and the sudden sulkiness of the blonde boy, the atmosphere wasn't much tenser than usual.

Sure, Draco probably was going to kill someone by the glares he gave and might have punched Saint Potter on the train, completely justifiable, and The Dark Lord had officially risen, sending everyone in a constant state of panic; but things were not that erratic, especially for a Slytherin Pureblood like him. The world was his oyster.

Which was why he was about to kick Pansy Parkinson off the Astronomy Tower.

They had agreed upon a seating chart that allowed all of them to maximize their brain capacities in order to gain as many House Points as possible. Since Draco was the Slytherin on top of every class, damned little miss perfect Granger and her habit of beating his friend up on the podium, the settlements revolved around the blonde and each individual strength. Pansy got Charms, her silver tongue finally useful on an academic level and not only on dark corners with older students; Theodore had Potions, his natural talent ready to expose himself in front of Slughorn, who had decided to keep him out of the little impromptu meeting on the train and to whom Theo had sworn vengeance; he would get Transfiguration, being the most skilled at changing various things in different states almost flawlessly and also due to the fact that he was the best behaved Slytherin. Amongst the members of Draco's Inner Circle anyway: Crabble and Goyle were bullies and lost causes, Millicent was as dull as a wall, Theo was too impulse, Draco was, well, Draco and Pansy was, for lack of a better word, a bucchinara. Only Blaise was polite and respectful and tried to keep his personal vendettas hidden and managed to deal with them without a fuzz, and that, plus his innate aptitude for Transfiguration, meant he went along with Professor McGonagall pretty smoothly.

Which meant that Transfiguration was his.

The other classes were not as important and therefore their seatings could be random, but for those they came prepared. Slytherin was going to win the House Cup that year, unless Draco revealed that he was already a marked Death Eater, which would've made them lose a shitton of points but nothing more. After all, no one had ever been expelled from Hogwarts during Dumbledore's Reign and Blaise was positive it would never happen.

But he was about to get his first detention of the year, possibly, if that bitch didn't move. That would have not been a great way to start, but deep down he was sure it would've been worth it. "Pansy, move your white ass off that chair at this instant" he said through gritted teeth, barely moving his lips and avoiding creasing his flawless smile. 'Rule number one' his mother had taught him, 'always appear kind and gentle and then stab them in the back and get them coins.'

"Why would I do that, Zabini? I'm comfortable here" claimed the annoying girl that was very close to getting hexed, leaning back with a lazy smile on her face.

Blaise had many great qualities, but he also had no room in his body for bullshit. 'Rule number two: never hit first but obliterate them after they start. And don't forget, never ruin a manicure.' He mentally counted to ten, trying to calm himself before he did something he might've regretted, "We agreed yesterday on this" he said, slowly losing his patience. He had very little disregard for those who didn't appreciate his careful planning.

Pansy gave him a poisonous smile, her bold red lips giving her extra points in the vicious department. "Change of plans, pretty boy" she said, voice saccharine and melodious that managed to hide perfectly her true nature.

'Rule number three' his mind recalled 'do not have witnesses nor explicit motif in case you do remove someone from this Earth'. That threw a wrench in his immediate future.

Breathing deeply inwards and closing his eyes, he imagined the petite girl being slowly entrapped in a Devil's Snare and painfully dying. It made him feel instantaneously better. When he opened his eyes again, unfortunately, one of his main causes of stress was still there, now joined by Draco, who took the golden medal in the 'giving Blaise headaches' category. His roommate was puzzled by the sight but decided not to complain and chose to poke holes into Saint Potter's head with his consistent stare.

Blaise wondered, not for the first time, what would've happened first, a make-out session in a broom closet between the Saviour of the Wizarding World and his friend, or a murder. Things would be less boring around Hogwarts if either event happened, even if the school was not boring to begin with.

One of the many topics he didn't agree on with Draco, especially this year, revolved around the blonde's complete annoyance to school life, despite maintaining stellar markings. Hogwarts was full of life and joy and unexpectedness.

Which was why Blaise didn't exactly want to start the year with a detention. "Very well" he said eventually, scanning the room for a proper desk to sit at. He would've avoided Gryffindors as if they carried the Plague, of course, but it seemed that the only empty chair was alongside one of them.

"Holy burning hell" he thought to himself, scolding his face into a bored and superior expression as he carefully watched Neville Fucking Longbottom casually reading his textbook with a Muggle pencil behind his ear. Blaise hadn't had all the time in the world back at the Hogwarts Express to see anyone other than his close friends, too much preoccupied to make a good first impression with Professor Slughorn to care about his fellow classmates, let alone someone as insignificant as 'Schlongbottom', as the other Slytherins called him.

"Boy oh boy, have I made a mistake!" his mind screamed.

He used to be lanky and chubby, but he must have definitely worked out during the summer, for he didn't look that way anymore. Under the shirt and vest, it was possible to see the beginning of some seriously well-kept muscles and, despite his slouched position, he an aura of confidence that he was missing the previous year. "Fighting Death Eaters in the Ministry surely left its mark, uh?" he wondered as he watched the Gryffindor move his head to talk to Weasley. There were so many of them that Blaise couldn't be bothered to keep notice of them all, but he recognized the one into his year as a general individual, blending the remaining white boys into a general identity.

He was almost immediately broken from his mind and brought to reality: "I wouldn't wanna be in your shoes" Draco snickered as he also noticed the only empty spot in the classroom, drawing also Pansy's attention to his misery. The witch gave him another vicious smile, before slowly and purposefully turning into her seat as Professor McGonagall entered the classroom. She had won that round, but Blaise was positive the unexpected outcome would see him victorious as well. 'Rule number fifteen, ogling a hot person is a great past time.'

Unbothered on the outside, he moved lazily towards the Gryffindor, noticing the surprise on the boy's face as he moved the chair next to him and took his place silently. Immediately he tensed, waiting for Blaise to attack him as his roommates had done many times, and it almost pained him to see all the confidence disappear under a cautious mask. But he had to give it to him, Longbottom didn't even flinch as he unceremoniously dumped his textbook and notebook on his side of the desk. He would've gotten a lot of dirty looks from his friends if he was somebody else carrying a Muggle object, but since he was Blaise Zabini no one said anything. After all, countless meters of parchment were as impractical as eating soup with a fork.

He also didn't miss the slightest nod of approval to ever been given him, directly from Professor McGonagall herself, before she began her first lecture of the sixth year.

And with that, they started.

***

Two hours later and with six pages of notes and the tiniest smidge of ink from a Muggle pen on his hands, 'I'll be damned if I have to write every day with a messy quill", the lecture was over. Professor McGonagall had done a brilliant job as usual, with her being the most competent, if not the only, teacher in the school, but one thing was absolutely clear as day to Blaise: the recently very attractive Gryffindor boy seated next to him was absolutely useless at Transfiguration. His grandfather would've used the word chiavica with a disapproving look at his way and forced him to sit and eat twelve different dishes, as if that would've made him improve.

The problem wasn't that he lacked the proper concentration and magical talent, but rather that he wasn't as passionate about the subject as Blaise was. The boy had also taken countless notes, writing them at the corners of his book in a minute calligraphy with his Muggle graphite, and he seemed to grasp the general concept, yet failed almost comically at properly producing the magic.

Needless to say, the Slytherin dreaded the day his favourite teacher would give them a project to be done in pairs.

Not a single word had been uttered between the two boys, as it should have been. They had no communal interests nor any shared group of acquaintances, even if they were both Purebloods. Their Houses were rivals, their roommates were arch-nemesis, and yet here they both were, seated in silence next to each other.

But there had been guarded glances from both sides, of that he was sure. He looked at the Gryffindor with fretted disinterest, desperately trying not to get caught staring at the hot guy next to him like a creep, while Longbottom looked occasionally back with something akin of fear and disdain. He wasn't really surprised by the reaction and couldn't really blame him. Blaise wasn't sure if his family had remained neutral or had been hurt at the hands of Death Eaters before Saint Potter saved everyone, but nevertheless, the Slytherin house suffered an image decline due to their notorious works. The House reputation was turbid and getting dirtier by the hour, with all the alumni tarnishing the good name of their former house with their debauchery. Of course, not all Slytherins were evil, but it was the fucking coincidence of the majority of those evildoers being Slytherins that gave way to all the hate.

"You're just giving into the stereotype" he had ranted at Draco on the train, after the blonde told him the news, "and yours is such a bloody shitton of bullshit l cannot tolerate anymore!"

And just like that, the class was over and students packed their bags to migrate into their next lecture. He had now a free period, as the majority of his friends took Divination for reasons unknown to him, and decided to make it count as much as possible by staying in the library before going to 6th year History of Magic.

After signalling a little goodbye to his housemates, he turned around to the pretty useless boy next to him to begrudgingly salute him as well and perhaps ask him to trade place with someone less inept at the subject, only to find said incredibly tall and gorgeous beefcake standing in all his height with a bag draped over his shoulder. Despite the sudden tough exterior, he had a kind and polite smile and a softness in his voice that Blaise would've never guessed. "Apparently we have to seat next to each other now" he said with a shy tone, and then immediately went to nervously bite his lips. Blaise was dumbfounded, unable to form words at the sight hovering over him. He definitely wasn't the lanky boy he remembered.

Unsettled by his lack of response and probably taking his silence as a sign of disgust, Longbottom let out a shaky laugh, trying to ease the tension. Bringing a hand up to scratch his neck. "Look, I get it if you want to switch" he began, looking down at his shoes, "but I don't think Professor McGonagall would let us."

That brought him back on Earth. He had not mistaken the look of approval the Professor had given him and he'd be damned if he ever let down the best teacher Hogwarts had ever seen over something so futile as a seating partner.

Also it didn't hurt that his deskmate was a bloody vision, incompetent maybe, but most definitely his type. And now more than ever he needed to know for which team this asshole beat for.

"Yeah, no. I know, it's fine or whatever" he stuttered nonchalantly, knowing that he sounded dismissal while on the inside he was a bubbling mess. Trying to regain his composure and to remember his reputation, he spat out with as little venom as possible, "I guess there could be worse of you lot to sit next to."

"Wrong. Fucking. Thing. To. Say. Genius" his mind yelled as he internally cringed at his choice of words while maintaining a disinterested exterior. He saw the exact moment Longbottom's face went from kind and polite to pissed off. In all the years they had spent at school together they had never really talked or acknowledged each other's existence, not as much as he had with members of the other two Houses, yet Longbottom would've never stroke him as the type of person that could get angry.

"That's cause you never spoke to him until now. Stop thinking with your dick" his brain fired as he rose from his seat and stood a few centimetres short of the Gryffindor. He had to admit that it was incredibly hard to stop thinking with his dick at the moment, but managed to maintain a neutral expression.

"Yeah, well. I guess so too" replied rather childishly the other boy, folding his arms over his chest and giving him what must've been his best glare. "I was trying to be polite, but I guess there is no way for a civilized conversation or partnership with you lot" he retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Now it was Blaise's turn to appear pissed and he mustered his worst killing glare, created by years of training, "Do not generalize me and I won't generalize you."

Longbottom was looking down at him, almost as if he was a puzzle that was not behaving. He supposed that from his perspective it was like that, since generally speaking they were supposed to hate each other's guts and here they were, one clearly trying not to lust for the other and the other apparently disapproving of the one's entire existence.

He eventually conceded, "Very well. See you around, Zabini." And with that Longbottom left, joining Thomas and that Fire Kid from his House.

Blaise was left alone, baffled and shocked, before he shook violently his head and left also the classroom and began walking in solitude towards the library.

This had the potential to become a great or a terrible year, and he supposed that the majority of the chances rested on the unexpected outcome of the Transfiguration class.

GLOSSARY:

'bucchinara' is a southern Italian word that means 'someone who gives blowjobs'

'chiavica' is a southern Italian word that means 'someone that really really sucks at something'

7 notes · View notes

jilyyall · 4 years

Text

Animal Magnetism - Ch 9.

Edward Cullen was not a normal teenager; of that I was certain. But knowing that did nothing to stop the pull I felt towards him. And if what he was saying was any indication, he felt some strange pull towards me, too. It was like we were magnets struggling against hope to stay apart. I only wondered what would happen when we inevitably collided.

Chapter 9. Iron Will. FANFICTION.NET / AO3 Intro/1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/

I took my time showering, dressing, and brushing my hair the next morning, trying to avoid my parents until they both left so that I didn't have to endure more questions about the mysterious Edward who drove me home. I ran out the front door maybe two minutes after I heard Renee's car pull out of the driveway, my truck key in hand.

And stopped, heart hammering in the damp air that promised rain momentarily, when I saw a silver Volvo where Renee usually parked. In the blink of an eye, Edward was outside and holding the passenger door open for me.

"Would you like a ride to school?" he asked. He was watching me carefully like he was worried I would have changed my mind about being near him, alone with him, in the last ten hours and thirty-two minutes.

"Yes. Thank you," I said, and walked over to him, trying my best to exude confidence even though I knew he could hear my heart hammering.

I brushed by him, closer than was strictly necessary, and slid into the car. He closed the door softly and instantaneously was sitting next to me, looking at me with that same expression he had when he'd done the same thing in Port Angeles.

"You're not going to scare me off with that," I informed him as I buckled my seat belt.

"I could scare you," he said with a thoughtful frown.

"I'm sure you're capable," I allowed, and shrugged. "But it doesn't make a difference to me."

"Yes, I remember," he said. "As it happens, I like being able to be myself around you."

For some odd reason, it sounded like he was frustrated. With me for not running away screaming? Very likely. With himself for not wanting to hide who he really was from me? Well, that seemed pretty likely as well, given what I knew of his personality and considering the several warnings he had given me that I would be better to stay away from him.

"You were going to tell me how your family was formed," I reminded him as he turned the key in the ignition.

He talked me through it, speaking quietly, carefully, as if expecting it to suddenly become too much.

"Carlisle found me dying of the Spanish Influenza in the summer of 1918 in Chicago. He was lonely, you see, after so long on his own, and had been considering making a companion for himself since he was having no luck finding one. He had treated my parents, but wasn't able to cure them. My mother… it was her dying wish that Carlisle save me. He saw something in me – I think I was especially perceptive even then, and he could see it. He was fond of me, so when it was clear to him that there was no saving me conventionally, he took me from the hospital – it wasn't hard to hide, so many bodies everywhere – and he changed me."

"I still, to this day, don't understand how he was able to stop from feeding on me. Mine was his first taste of human blood. I don't know how he's managed it, but in almost half a millennium, Carlisle has never fed on a human."

Half a millennium? I bit my lip, thinking of the young, attractive small town doctor, and trying to reconcile him with someone almost five hundred years old. It didn't seem possible, but how could I doubt Edward now?

"Do you remember it all from your own perspective? Or are they Carlisle's memories you have?" I wondered aloud.

"Some of both. I don't remember my human life very clearly, as I said last night, only small details that seemed important to hold onto. I remember even less from when I was dying. The fever was so intense…" he said, and I saw his grip on the steering wheel tighten. "Mostly, I just remember the pain."

"The pain? Of being ill?" I asked.

"No." He sighed and turned to look at me as he guided the car to a smooth stop at a red light. "The bite, and the subsequent transformation. It's days of agony, burning as the venom spreads through the body until the heart stops. And then, a different sort of burning when you wake."

"Hot iron down the throat?" I guessed, recalling the description from the night before.

"Something like that," he said with a wry smile, and his gaze flickered over me.

"Wait," I said, horrified. "Is it more painful now, with me? Even more painful than when you first woke up?"

"In some ways," he said, and shrugged. "When you first wake, it's different. It's… primal… the urge to feed… there's no fighting it. There's no caging the monster in. There is only the call of blood. Now, it's different. My body and my mind and my heart are constantly at war around you. You're lucky I'm a very stubborn being, Bella."

It was silent for a moment, one of those silences where I knew Edward was just waiting for my reaction. I looked at him, right in his eyes. "What about the others? How did they come along?"

He sighed and shook his head and I knew I hadn't given him the reaction he'd expected, the one he felt he deserved. Horror, I guessed. Or maybe repulsion.

"Esme was next. She fell from a cliff and was on the verge of death. He'd treated her in the hospital before, years earlier, had affection for her, and she for him. He couldn't bear the thought of her dying, so he changed her. They've been married for nearly a century."

"Then Rosalie. She was beaten and left for dead in the street. He brought her home and changed her. It was only two years later she found Emmett being mauled by a bear in Tennessee. She carried him more than a hundred miles back to Carlisle and begged him to change him for her. The amount of restraint she showed only two years after her own change was astonishing. To be able to resist all that blood when she was covered in it? It's not a simple thing, but she felt something for him and she knew he was going to be important to her."

"Did you see that in her mind?" I asked curiously. Somehow, I couldn't imagine Rosalie Hale sitting and talking with Edward about her feelings. But what did I know? I only saw the façade they put on at school. For all I knew, she was warm and inviting at home, and the stoic intimidating exterior in public was just a ruse.

"Yes. She used to be very annoyed with me that I could hear everything she was thinking," he told me. "She would try to block me out, but it didn't always work very well."

"And now?" I asked.

"There are no secrets in my family now. They are all free with their thoughts around me," Edward said, and scowled. "Too free, sometimes."

"You can't control it?" I asked. What must it be like to constantly have everyone else's thoughts in his mind when he didn't want them?

"I've learned to tune it out at times," Edward said dismissively. "In a crowd, it's almost like background noise. It's more difficult for me to tune out my family, though. The more familiar I am with someone, the stronger the connection."

"It must be terribly inconvenient," I said.

"Yes, it can be," he said, but he didn't sound inconvenienced. He'd clearly made his peace with the fact that he could so rarely enjoy true solitude. "They've each learned their own way of temporarily hiding their thoughts. Except for Emmett, who's never bothered to try. He's very open and honest and he doesn't see the point of trying to hide anything from me when I'll just find out anyway."

It all sounded very fascinating, and I wanted so badly to learn more about their family dynamic, but first I had to finish the story of how his family came together. "What about Alice and Jasper? You said they came together and found the rest of you."

"Yes. Jasper was changed when he was serving as a soldier in the Civil War, almost sixty years before me. He didn't have the same upbringing as the rest of us. He fed only on humans until he and Alice found each other in 1948. She helped him learn how to curb his instinct to kill humans, to control it after nearly a century of feeding on humans."

"Is that why he always looks like he's in pain?" I asked.

"It's part of it," Edward said. "It's more difficult for him to curb his nature. He struggles more than the rest of us."

"Why do you do it?" If it was so difficult, why did they bother to deny their instincts?

"We… have a fondness for humanity," Edward said slowly. "We respect the living; we see the people rather than the prey. And we don't… we don't want to be monsters."

"I don't think you're a monster, Edward," I said quietly. He looked dubious, as if he didn't quite believe me, but he didn't argue. "What's Alice's story?"

"She doesn't know," Edward answered. "She doesn't remember anything before she woke in the dark."

"Nothing?" I asked.

"All she remembers is waking up alone in 1920. She stayed that way until she and Jasper found each other, nearly thirty years later," Edward said gravely. "They haven't been apart since."

I pictured the smallest of the Cullens: flitting, pixie-like, fragile. Of course, that was just her appearance; I knew she wasn't defenseless, wasn't as harmless as she looked. All the same, I couldn't imagine the pain and loneliness she must have suffered waiting so long for her soulmate.

"It's so sad," I whispered, my voice breaking. I wondered, then, if it had been like that for Edward: lonely and sad. What was it like to be surrounded by happy couples, soulmates, to hear the force of their love in your mind, and have no one to share it with? I felt tears welling hot in my eyes and blinked quickly, swiping at a single errant tear. Embarrassed, I looked at Edward to see that he was staring at me again in stunned disbelief.

"Yes, it is," he agreed after a moment, his voice very gentle in the quiet space between us.

I realized that the car was no longer moving; we had arrived at school and parked close to the middle of the lot while he was speaking. There was a soft tapping on the hood of the car; the heavy clouds had finally produced the promised rain.

"Do you want your jacket back?" I said, feeling awkward; he was still watching me with that almost awestruck expression. I was wearing his jacket again, in part because I only had the one suitable jacket I'd left in Mike's car the night before, and partly because I'd been planning to return it to him as soon as I'd seen him anyway. That, and I couldn't get enough of the smell.

"No, Bella," he said softly, and there was something strange in his eyes. Hunger, I thought with a flush, but not the dangerous kind. "It actually serves its purpose on you."

He leaned over the center console, just like he had last night, and pressed his face to my neck and inhaled deeply again.

"Not that I mind," I said breathlessly as he began to run his nose along my jawline, just like he had done in Port Angeles. "But why do you do that? Doesn't it hurt you?"

"Yes," he murmured in my ear, but he didn't pull away. "It's enjoyable, though. And necessary. Think of it as if… I'm desensitizing."

He pulled away with a small, wicked smile. "That, and I like the way your heart races."

"Well," I said, swallowing thickly. He was still so close, his amber eyes inches from mine. I wanted him closer still. "I'm happy to help you desensitize. Feel free to continue."

"As much as I would love to – and, believe me, I would love to," he laughed ruefully, shaking his head, and then gestured out the window to indicate the full parking lot, "we have an audience, and they think we're doing something very different."

"Oh," I said, looking around in horror. I made eye contact with a couple walking in front of the car; the girl averted her gaze quickly, giggling to her boyfriend. I groaned. "Great."

"Are you ready?" Edward asked, reaching for the handle of his door.

"I guess." I sighed, though. I really didn't want to leave the confines of his car. I wished more than anything else that we could be alone again. I just had so many more questions for him.

Edward met me as I stepped out of the car, moving at a normal human pace, and shut the door for me. When he reached to take my books from me, I stepped back.

"What are you doing?"

He quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't acknowledge my discomfort, taking the strap of my bag and sliding it off my shoulder.

"Bella," he said in a long-suffering voice. "Before the end of first period, everyone in this school is going to hear how we were just making out in my car. How would I look if I didn't even carry your books for you after that?"

"But, we weren't," I hissed, hurrying to catch up to him when he turned to walk across the lot.

"Would you like to tell them that, then?" Edward said. I could see the upward quirk of his lips; he knew I wouldn't say anything to anyone. "Besides, what we were actually doing is, in truth, much more scandalous. I'm only trying to preserve my reputation as a gentleman."

"It isn't 1918 anymore, Edward. You're being ridiculous," I said, then shook my head. I knew I wasn't going to win this one. "But, if I just think of it as protecting your reputation, I can bear it."

"I appreciate that. It's very noble of you," Edward teased.

I was aware of all of the eyes on us, but I couldn't find it in myself to care too much. I enjoyed being around Edward more than I hated the attention that came with it.

"Hey, where are the others? You usually drive them," I said, suddenly struck by the realization that his siblings were nowhere to be found.

He nodded to a bright red convertible on the other side of the parking lot. "Rosalie drove today."

"What does your family think about all this?" I asked. I knew I didn't have to explain that I meant us.

He was silent for a while. We were almost to the awning people usually crowded under when it was raining by the time he answered.

"Most of my siblings think I'm being irresponsible," he said carefully. "You have to understand that the entire family will be implicated if this ends badly. My parents just want me to be happy, so they're willing to support me in whatever decision I make."

"Is there something you haven't decided?" I asked very quietly. He had said I won't ever hurt you, Bella last night, and he'd said it more than once, so I was confident that he wasn't still deciding whether or not to kill me. What more was there?

"No, Bella," he answered. "I've made up my mind."

I still didn't think he was talking about the murder and blood drinking, but I knew it wasn't the time or place to push for clarification. "You said, most of your siblings?" I said instead.

"Yes," he said, his eyes narrowing in thought, like he was deciding how much to tell me. "Alice is very supportive."

"She is?" I said, surprised. I had never had any contact with any of the Cullens other than Edward and Dr. Cullen. I couldn't think of any good reason for his sister to like me, though I did remember her smiling at me the other day at lunch. "Why?"

"Alice can be strange sometimes," Edward said, still carefully choosing his words with a frown, and I remembered we couldn't speak freely here, not with so many people around. "She thinks you two will be the best of friends."

He glanced sideways at me, and smiled ruefully at what I was sure was the shocked expression on my face. "She has good reason," he added.

I filed that away for future clarification.

"Morning, Bella!" I looked up at Jessica's call to see her and Mike standing just ahead, under the awning several feet back from the light rain. Mike had my jacket folded over his arm.

"Hey, guys," I said when Edward and I drew level with them.

"Here," Mike said, handing me my jacket with a frown. "I thought you might need this."

"Thanks, Mike. You're a lifesaver," I said, swapping jackets as quickly as I could. Edward inclined his head when I handed him his jacket with a soft, "Thank you."

"Well, we'll leave you two to it," Jessica said with a sidelong glance at Edward. She gave me an expectant look that Edward pretended not to notice.

"See you in government, Bella," Mike said with a grumpy scowl.

"Yeah, sure," I agreed.

Edward chuckled when they walked away, stepping closer to me and lowering his voice. "She's planning to ambush you in Trigonometry."

"Yeah, I figured," I said with a sigh, then studied him speculatively. "What does she want to know?"

"She wants to know if we're secretly dating, or if we're just hooking up," he said at once. Then, after the briefest hesitation, "And if I'm a good kisser."

"But…" I stopped, and looked at him in panic. I didn't know any of the answers, except that we definitely were not hooking up. "What do I tell her?"

"I suppose you could tell her we're dating, if you don't mind. I think it would be easier than the alternative, since we'll be spending so much time together anyway," he said, grasping the handle of the door to the English building and holding the door for me.

"I don't mind," I said, then peered up at him shyly as we stopped outside my classroom. "I mean, it's kind of the truth… Isn't it?"

He looked at me with such tenderness, and stroked a single long-fingered hand through my hair. "Yes, Bella. You're right," he murmured, and then turned and began to walk away.

"Wait," I said, glancing warily at the people walking through the hallway. "What about that other thing?"

"Well, Bella, I'm afraid you're on your own with that one" he said, pausing at the door to give me a taunting wink. "But I'll be curious to hear how you handle it."

And then he was gone, leaving me to endure English class with Eric moping in the corner, and then Government with Mike shooting me furtive, sidelong glances. I knew he wanted to talk to me, probably to try to discourage me from seeing Edward anymore, but I was too preoccupied with the upcoming ambush to care.

Jessica was waiting for me outside of building six after my government class. It was a testament to how eager she was for gossip that she barely spared Mike a greeting before she hooked her arm through mine and practically dragged me along towards building five, and our Trigonometry class.

"Spill," she said as soon as Mike was out of earshot.

"About what?" I asked reluctantly.

"Did you plan to meet up with Edward last night? What happened after you left us? Did you hook up? Are you guys dating? Is he your boyfriend? Is he a good kisser?" She fired questions off rapid-fire so that my head was spinning by the time we walked into our classroom.

"Um," I said once I sat down. "No, I had no idea he was going to be there. I was as surprised to see him as the rest of you were."

"Why did he come? Just to see you? Just because he knew you would be there?" she demanded, leaning across the aisle to whisper so that we couldn't easily be overheard.

I shrugged awkwardly and tucked my hair behind my ear, acutely aware that Edward would be paying close attention to Jessica's thoughts.

"I… yeah, I guess so," I stammered. "We just went outside to talk… only to talk. And he gave me his jacket because I was cold."

"Because you left your jacket in Mike's car," Jessica said with a nod. "Did he really just take you home after? Or did you go somewhere else?"

"Well he was concerned that I hadn't eaten since breakfast, so we stopped at that Italian restaurant near the theatre."

"Oh, how thoughtful," Jessica said. "So, are you planning to hang out again? Are you guys, like, a thing?"

"Y-yeah, I… I guess," I said, ducking beneath my desk to rummage through my bag for my notebook and pencil. It was a pretty obvious attempt to hide my blush, I thought, but Jessica wasn't the most observant person, and I could only hope it hadn't registered in her thoughts. "He's driving me to Seattle next Saturday."

"Oh… But you guys should go to the dance!" Jessica protested.

"No, definitely not," I said, shaking my head firmly. "I don't surf, and I don't dance. Trust me, it's for the best."

"I bet Edward can dance," she said dreamily. "Rich kids go through classes like that all the time."

"I bet he can." I doubted if there was anything he couldn't do.

"Have you met his family yet? Has he met your parents? Has your dad pulled the Police Chief card and scared the crap out of him?"

"I've only met his dad. Dr. Cullen treated me after the almost accident," I reminded her. "Apparently, though, he thinks I'll get along well with Alice. He hasn't met my parents, but something tells me even the Chief won't scare him."

Jessica snorted softly. "I wonder if he'll pull the whole cleaning his gun routine when it happens."

Thankfully, class started just then, affording me a short reprieve from her questions. Of course, the second the bell rang she was at my side with more.

"Well?" she said impatiently, as if I had failed to answer a question she had asked two seconds ago, not an hour ago. At my blank look, she made a 'tsk'ing noise and lowered her voice to a hiss in my ear again. "Is he a good kisser?"

"Oh." I bit my lip, and hugged my books to my chest, thinking over my options carefully. She just assumed that we had kissed; I figured it was weirder for me to say that we hadn't, but I wasn't confident in my ability to lie to her. I decided on some semblance of the truth. "Um, you know… it's really embarrassing, actually, but every time he comes near me, much less touches me, I feel like I'm about to pass out."

Jessica giggled. "W-o-w," she said, drawing it out into a three-syllable word.

"Anyway," I said, quickly taking advantage of her silence as we approached our Spanish classroom. "Bring me up to speed on what happened after I left last night. You and Mike are looking pretty cozy."

"I know, right?" She squealed, her brown curls bouncing on her shoulders. "He dropped me off after everybody else even though Angela lives closer to him, and he kissed me!"

"That's awesome, Jess," I said with a genuine smile. It seemed Mike had taken what I'd said to heart, and had decided to leap into it with Jessica.

"Yeah, I mean, I didn't almost pass out or anything," she said, rolling her eyes playfully. "But it was really nice!"

"Are you guys going out again before the dance, or what?" I asked.

"I think he wants to go see another movie this weekend. A slasher flick this time," she said. "Oh, you and Edward should come!"

I pursed my lips in an awkward smile as I slid into my seat. "I don't know, Jess." I shrugged and reached into my bag for a pen. "Mike really doesn't seem to like Edward."

"Whatever, he'll get over it." She rolled her eyes. "I don't think any of the guys here like any the Cullen boys. It's just because they're all super hot, though. Don't worry about it."

We took our seats in Spanish just as the bell rang and I was relieved, for once, when Mrs. Goff announced a pop quiz. Next to me, Jessica groaned with the rest of the class.

"Who gives a pop quiz on a Monday? Seriously messed up. Anyway, are you having lunch with Edward again?" Jessica asked me as we started putting our books away after class. She paused, staring at something out the window. Turning, I saw Edward standing under a tree, looking at me. Jessica laughed breathlessly next to me. "I guess that's my answer. I'll see you in Gym."

By the time I stepped into the drizzle outside, he was standing there at the door with an amused smile. Once again, he took my book bag without preamble. "How did it go?"

I glowered at him and didn't answer; he already knew, of course. Hadn't he basically told me he would be listening in on Jessica's thoughts? He laughed at me as we started walking to the cafeteria and the mesmerizing sound made it difficult to feel awkward about the stares we were getting again.

"You nearly faint whenever I get too close to you?" He held open the door to the cafeteria with a smirk.

"Please. Like you didn't already know that." Following him into the line, I rolled my eyes. Then, in a truly terrible impression of his smooth, melodic teasing earlier in the car: "I like the way your heart races."

He took a lunch tray, slanting an almost nervous look down at me. "Are you annoyed with me already?"

"No," I assured him, eyeing the tremendous amount of food he piled onto the tray dubiously. He couldn't honestly expect me to eat all of that. "What? Half's for you?"

"Of course," he said with a wink for me, and a smile for the lunch lady as he paid her. She stared after him when he turned away; even middle-aged women weren't immune to his charm, I realized with a small smirk as I followed him.

He sat at the end of the same long, half-occupied table we'd shared the week before, but this time I chose to sit in the seat next to him. I worried my proximity would alarm him, but he moved his chair closer still, so close that our arms would brush each time I reached for something from the tray. I wanted to ask him so many questions, but I was worried that we would be easily overheard. Correctly guessing the reason for my hesitation, he smiled softly and angled his body toward me, leaning in.

"The other students here aren't as curious as you," he reminded me. "Besides, it's incredibly difficult to be overheard in a noisy, crowded lunch room. We can talk."

"Is it difficult for you to pretend to be just like any other person?" I asked quietly.

"In what way?" Edward said. He leaned his opposite forearm against the table, and his torso hunched slightly as he leaned towards me. We looked, I was sure, very secretive, but I figured most people would likely attribute it to new love.

"Physically, I mean. Like your speed. I know you said last night that you hate going slow, but is it difficult for you to move at a more … normal pace, for lack of a better term?" I clarified. "And the strength. I know you're capable of massive shows of strength. Are you, I don't know, concentrating really hard right now not to crush that?"

I gestured to his hands. He was fiddling absently with my empty soda bottle.

"Regarding the speed," he began slowly, pausing when someone walked behind us, "it's not difficult, per se, to move at a normal pace. It's just boring. And the strength?"

In a flash, the bottle was a ball of plastic no bigger than a golf ball. He smiled at me and set it down on table between us.

"It's very easy to do things like this, and like … other things you've seen," he said cryptically as a boy I recognized from my Gym class walked in front of us. I knew he was referring to the day he'd stopped the van from crushing me. "But it's not difficult to handle delicate things. Your hand, for instance."

He reached over and took my hand in his, slid his fingers through mine smoothly. I marveled at the bold contact – he'd been fairly careful not to touch me too much last night. He turned our hands over so mine was resting on top of his on the table.

"I could very easily crush every bone in your hand, if I wanted," Edward said with a quick flash of a grin. "But it's not that I have to try not to hurt you in that way, it's that I would have to consciously expend the effort. Do you understand?"

I nodded. It wasn't like the bloodlust where he was focused nonstop on not killing me. He was like a regular boy in respect to his strength, unless he actively chose not to be. "Is it difficult right now? In the other way?"

He smiled serenely and shook his head. "No, Bella. Or, I should say, no more than I can handle."

"Is it… normal? The, um, the effect I have on you?" I said hesitantly. "Is it very strong like this, very often?"

He frowned, his eyes narrowing with some sort of internal debate. Finally, he sighed, and shook his head. "While not unheard of, it isn't common," he told me, speaking so quietly I had to strain to hear him. "Occasionally, there will be one person who is particularly enticing, but I've never heard of it being this strong before."

"Has it ever happened to you?" I asked. I hadn't yet asked him if he'd always followed his family's way of life, but it was on my list. I just wasn't sure how to word it, or how comfortable he would be discussing it. Something he had said in the car earlier made me suspect that he hadn't always had such a strong will, hadn't always rejected human blood.

I don't know how he's managed it, but in almost half a millennium, Carlisle has never fed on a human.

"No," he said. "But to Emmett. Twice, when he was still fairly new. Once stronger than the other, but nothing like this." He danced his long fingers lightly along the wrist of the hand he was holding, right over the veins there. "He tried, but ... couldn't resist. He's the youngest of us, it's more difficult."

Over his shoulder, I saw his siblings at their usual table. They weren't looking at us, but that didn't mean they weren't aware. Alice and Rosalie were on one side of the table with an untouched apple and a banana in front of them as they looked at their boyfriends... husbands? Across from them, Emmett and Jasper were playing a very ordinary-looking game of paper football on the tabletop. Shocked by the normalcy of the scene, I turned to Edward. "Can they hear us now?"

"Yes, they're listening," he said, watching me closely. "Does it bother you?"

I thought about it. Did it bother me to know that anything I ever said could be overheard? I didn't want to hide anything from Edward, and I wanted his family to know that they could trust me with their secrets. I couldn't lie to myself and deny that it was strange, knowing that I could only be certain I had privacy if I wasn't speaking, but nothing had changed. For the two months I'd been here, every conversation I'd ever had could have been overheard by any of the Cullens.

I shook my head, and shrugged. "It is what it is. It's the world I live in now."

Rosalie Hale turned suddenly, and glared at me so harshly that I flinched. She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, but in that moment, her face was the stuff of nightmares. Edward stiffened and his free hand curled into a fist on the table between us. He scowled and hissed a low warning under his breath without looking up. Casually, Rosalie turned her head back to the other Cullens and shifted back into the ordinary illusion with ease.

"I'm sorry about her," he murmured and I remembered he had said that his siblings, save Alice, weren't very happy he was spending time with me so publicly.

"It's okay." I shrugged, but I was shaken. She'd looked so angry, almost as terrifying as Edward had been that first day. Now, looking at him sitting so calmly beside me, it seemed like a lifetime ago I'd been certain he wanted me dead. "I get it. This isn't just dangerous for me."

"I'm not going to lose this battle," he vowed quietly, and I knew he said it for his family's benefit, and maybe even his own, as much as mine. "I couldn't survive it if I did. Not after knowing you."

"That iron will of yours," I murmured.

"I get it from my father," Edward joked, and I knew he referred to Carlisle.

FFN/AO3

#twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #edward x bella #bella x edward #edward cullen #bella swan #i forgot to post these here again oops

1 note · View note

join-the-joywrite · 4 years

Text

Time After Time -- 5

a boy a girl a time turner

when a time turner is shattered in a small fight, it’s up to the unlikely pair to figure out how to survive until the end of the war. it’s their only shot at breaking the loop.

masterpost prev || next

Chapter 5 - When Draco died

Hermione sprinted across the courtyard faster than she'd ever run in her whole life. Through the skies, all across Hogwarts, Voldemort's voice pierced through the air.

"You have fought valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

Hermione tripped over a fallen goalpost on the Quidditch field. Ignoring the cut she received on her forearm, she got up again and continued.

"Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonour."

Hermione slipped on slick grass and acquired a graze to her calf. She continued without stopping to check.

"Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. Should you do so, I give my word that no other life will be lost on this night. You have one hour. If at the end of that time, you have not given yourself up, then I shall punish every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me."

As the darkened clouds dissipated, Hermione reached the castle. Ron and Harry noticed her absence at the boathouse as she tripped on the steps and flew into what remained of the front doors.

Hermione stared around the empty castle. She hesitated. She didn't know where do go. Eventually, she chose the Great Hall. The doors gave way easily and she stumbled in, falling to the floor. Ignoring the sharp pains shooting up her left leg from her ankle, Hermione stood up again.

The tables had been pushed to the sides. Across the floor, bodies lined up with the living surrounding them in tears.

You can’t save them all, Granger. It's a war. No matter what you do, there will be casualties.

Hermione's gaze fell on Lupin and Tonks as she reached them. Her heart broke for the baby boy their death orphaned.

"Hermione!"

She looked up to see a cluster of redheads. No, she thought, not one of the Weasleys.

She walked slowly, dreading to see who was missing. She refused to do a headcount, or to identify each one. She didn't want to know.

"He kept saying your name," Fred told her when she reached them. "I didn't -- we didn't know you were close."

Hermione forced herself to look down. As soon as she saw his face, she shut her eyes and turned away, biting down on her bottom lip to stop the cries.

"He told me to tell you he was sorry."

"What happened?" Hermione asked, barely having the strength to speak in anything above a whisper.

"A wall came down. It would've been me over there if it weren't for him."

Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth as a choked sob forced itself out. Ginny reached out for Hermione, but she'd dropped to the ground, taking Draco's cold hand in her warm ones.

"You weren't supposed to die," she whispered, pressing the back of his hand to her cheek. "I told you to be careful."

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny murmured, kneeling down to offer Hermione a hug.

Hermione ignored Ginny. In fact, she didn't even notice Ginny.

"I'm going to reset," Hermione told Draco, swallowing her tears. "I'm going to reset, okay? You won't die like this again."

"Hermione?"

Hermione stood up sharply and pulled her wand from her pocket.

"Hermione, what are you doing?"

"Hermione!"

Ron and Harry arrived in the doorway in time to witness Hermione drop to the ground beside Draco.

///////////////

Draco inhaled sharply as he set the glass down on the table. The glass of water he had poured over a hundred times for Hermione. The glass of water he'd stopped forcing her to drink. He stared at the glass. Despite the silence in the cottage, he knew Hermione was awake.

"I told you to let him die. He has to."

"You once asked me if I thought your death would reset the loop or if it was just mine."

Draco turned to Hermione. She lay exactly as she was every time she woke up. She kept her gaze on the ceiling.

"I was curious. I never died alone. You wouldn't let me anyway."

"Well, it doesn't. If you die, you're dead. You can't reset the loop."

Draco watched Hermione carefully. She didn't move at all. "I couldn't let him die. Not when I know he's like family to you."

"He died the first time around, didn't he?"

Draco shrugged. "I assume so. What happened?"

"I went with Harry and Ron down to the boathouse. Snape died. I almost reset the loop but . . . I thought it wise to listen to you on this one. You sounded much more serious than the numerous times you tried to convince me to end Lavender's life quicker instead of trying to save it."

"Then?" Draco picked up the glass. Hermione might need it after all.

"I felt like I was dying. As if I had a spear or something going through my chest. Breathing hurt. I felt like I was being. . ."

"Like you were being?"

"Crushed," Hermione said softly, wide eyes staring at Draco as she turned her head. Slowly, she sat up. "You were crushed by that wall, weren't you? Oh, Malfoy, I'm so sorry--"

"It's all right--"

"No. No, it isn't. I can't imagine how you must've felt."

"Hermione. I'm fine."

Hermione sighed. "I guess it kind of slipped my mind that you remember your deaths too."

Draco sighed as well as he sat down beside her. "Water?"

"Thank you."

The cottage fell into a silence that didn't last very wrong.

"Please don't die without me again."

"What, so I can die with you?" Draco joked.

Hermione looked up from the glass. "Yes."

"What?"

"It's instantaneous. I don't have to think about it. You die, I die. It's that simple. But this one . . . I had time. I had time to be afraid, to fully comprehend that you'd died. I tried to grieve first. Then I remembered the loop. I don't want that again."

"Why does it matter? If I die. You're the one with the loop. It's you that's going to have to end the war, figure out how to keep playing. I'm -- I'm just there."

"Why does it matter?" Hermione repeated. She frowned. "Why doesn't it matter?! It matters to me if you die! When I said we're breaking this loop saving as many people as we can, that included you."

"Did it include you?"

Hermione remained silent, raising the glass to her lips instead.

"You should go," Draco said softly, "they'll start looking for you soon."

Sighing, Hermione stood up. She left the glass on the table before leaving. Pausing at the window, she saw Draco pick up her jacket and hold on to it as he lay on the couch where she had been, hugging the denim to his chest.

///////////////

Hermione grabbed Draco's arm, wrapping her fingers around his wrist. "Be careful. Please."

"Stay with Harry."

Hermione didn't let go. Draco held her gaze for a second before he turned and left. Her hand fell to her side once he'd gently pulled his wrist away.

Down at the boathouse, Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth when Nagini attacked Snape. Ron took off after Voldemort. Harry hurried to Snape's side. Hermione found herself afraid to move. She counted the seconds, waiting for that awful feeling to sweep over her again.

It never did. As Voldemort began to speak, she slowly stood up and made her way around to Harry -- and Ron, who had returned by then. She fought off her reliever smile. It would look pretty awful if she started smiling at the dying professor.

"Come on."

Harry and Ron turned to follow Hermione. Both were tired and prepared to make the slow walk back up to the castle, but Hermione took off in a sprint.

"What's she in such a rush for?" Harry asked as he started to jog.

"Probably worried about her new best friend," Ron said, speeding up. "Come on."

Hermione did not trip or slip until she got to the castle doors. From some distance away, Harry and Ron watched her trip over the last step and fall into the castle. She barely paused to get up properly as she turned and headed for the Great Hall. When Harry and Ron made it into the castle, they found Hermione standing at the doors to the hall, her shaking hand on the door. Sharing a glance, they agreed to keep silent and follow her in slowly.

Hermione swallowed her fears and pushed lightly on the doors. She stood at the front and studied the scene before her. There, at the far end, stood the Weasleys. Hermione didn't count them. She took a deep breath and walked forward.

"Fred?"

"Hermione."

She checked Fred for any signs of injury. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know how he knew it was going to come down. If it weren't for Malfoy, I'd be down there too." Fred gestured with his hand and Hermione found that the Weasleys weren't huddled around Draco Malfoy's body, but rather Lupin and Tonks.

A sigh of relief escaped her before she could stop it.

"Do you know where he is?"

Fred pointed to one corner of the hall, where Draco was crouched in front of a little girl. Hermione watched for a second before stepping around the Weasleys to get into the next aisle. She flew past Harry and Ron, who were on their way to the Weasleys in the centre aisle.

Hermione slowed to a stop behind Draco. What if it wasn't really him?

"Malfoy."

Draco turned away from the girl. "Granger," he said before glancing back at the girl. "Go sit with your brother, Ellie. Watch out for his arm, yeah?"

The girl, Ellie, nodded and left. Draco glanced at the floor before he stood up and faced Hermione.

"I'm still alive," he said when Hermione wouldn't stop staring. When that didn't work, he took her hand and pressed it to his chest. "Can you feel it?"

"You saved Fred."

"I had to. For you."

"And you stayed alive."

"I had to," Draco said again, a small smile crossing his face, "for you."

"Yeah."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just . . . thinking."

"Well, don't think. You get this funny looking crease between your eyebrows. Makes you look so old." While Draco rambled on about some nonsense, most likely in an attempt to make Hermione laugh, Hermione studied him. The stupid expressions he was making. The way he still held on to her hand, resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her fingertips.

Don't think.

The hand that rested on his chest curled into a fist, gathering the material of his shirt in her hand. The other was suddenly on the back of his neck. Both pulled him down to her height. Draco's ramblings were cut off as he suddenly found himself being kissed by Hermione. He was startled, no doubt, but less than a second later, he found that he fitted quite nicely with Hermione. He let go of her hand to cup her cheek, the other arm slipping around her waist, pulling her as close as he could.

Hermione shut both her eyes and her mind, refusing to think about anything. Anything except the pressure of Draco's hands on her body, the silky hair between her fingers, the heartbeat pounding against her hand, the faint smell of peppermint and burning embers.

"Oi, what are they doing over there?" Ron cried.

Draco's dizzying thrill was harshly shattered by Ron's voice. Not moving his hands, he pulled away from Hermione. "Granger--"

"Shut up," Hermione murmured, leaning closer to close the gap.

"Hermione, stop," Draco said softly, leaning his forehead against hers. "Enough."

"Why?"

"We know we've been doing the same things time after time. We know we've spent more time together in this loop than we ever did out of it. They don't."

Hermione turned back halfway and caught sight of the Weasleys watching carefully as Ron made his way over, Harry jogging to keep up with Ron.

"Shit," Hermione whispered. "Can I reset?"

"Oh, don't be a wuss--"

///////////////

"Hermione Granger, you absolute coward!"

"I'm sorry!" Hermione cried, standing up. "You don't know him like I do, he would've raised hell in that hall!"

Draco leaned against the table and folded his arms. "What, you're not allowed to kiss whoever you want?"

"You said it yourself, they don't know anything about the loop. They don't know what we've been through. They don't know that I--"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "That you what?"

"That I've died a little less than a hundred times," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around herself and looking away.

Draco knew she hadn't planned on saying that, but he didn't press. Instead, he sighed and pushed off the table, reaching over for Hermione's denim jacket on the back of the chair. Hanging it over his arm, he walked up to Hermione and took the ends of her hoodie in his hands.

"You know I survive saving Fred, okay? You know I can do it now. No need to get overwhelmed, hmm?" Draco smiled as he zipped up the hoodie.

"Overwhelmed," Hermione scoffed, muttering under her breath.

Draco held the denim jacket up for her to put her arms into. She slipped her right arm in first, then turned around to slip her left arm in. Draco pulled the jacket up. Before she could turn back, Draco wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Stay safe, Hermione," he whispered in her ear.

"Don't die without me, Draco."

prev || next

#time after time #dramione #harry potter #second wizarding war #time loops #kenny-writes

1 note · View note

jrazillashadowworks · 6 years

Text

Quickblade

Another D&D short for the fun of it. I’m just enjoy making new characters.

Warnings: Cruelty and violence.

Word count: 1677 I hope that you enjoy. ^,,^

Roaming the Dampen forest for what seemed like an eternity, he had finally found it. The downpour had made things near impossible, the Lightfoot Halfling warrior drenched to the bone. His short greenish brown hooded, leaf-shaped cloak was like a cold, wet blanket, weighing down his small but athletic frame. In his now straining hands, his trusty, elaborate gold short sword and buckler shield remained tightly gripped. After so much searching, he had become tired, something that could not be tolerated, not with what must be done.

A smirk of sinister purpose stretched across his copper skin, his second wind kicking in, washing over him in a scorching, newfound energy. He brushed the pale whitish blonde bangs from his undercut hair out of his face with his wrist. Before him, a gaping maw of a tunnel as opaque as the void stretched out from under the forest hills. The grass and moss overhang trickled a veil of runoff over the entrance. The Halfling sniffed deep, filling his lungs to capacity with the soaked, earthy surroundings. With the keen sense of smell of a dog, he picked apart the grass, wood, rain, and rock until the faint stench of his quarry entered his nostrils. They were definitely there.

Usually such openings would be trapped, however, a quick scan revealed that this one was not, proving it to be a recent tunnel entrance. He would continue to remain vigilant and cautious, knowing full well of what his target was capable of. Leaving the grey and green haze of the outside, he carefully took his first steps into the cavern. A mix of anxious adrenaline and healthy dread filled the Halfling, giving him a slight jitter to his movements.

Pushing the shield to wrap up his wrist and reaching into his slung overpack, he pulled out an iron torch, covered with a cloth and banded tightly with twine. Underneath, a dim glow of an ever-burning flame emanated from under the fabric, a gift from a mage he had entertained once…or twice. It did enough to keep his surroundings just in sight.

Water trickled in from the earthen ceiling creating streams down the path, the only sound in the quiet tunnel. Worms wriggled violently between the soiled walls and the floor was cool underneath the leather undersides of his feet. If the plan had gone as instructed, he should have little opposition, the enemy lead to one side of the tunnel passes. If not, he was likely going to die, a thought that both scared and excited him, causing his knuckles to bleed white around the sword and torch.

Marking the walls with an exit symbol only he could notice with his blade as he continued on. Traversing the maze-like expanse that no doubt was dug through the entire forest seemingly aimless, he followed his dependable nose, turning this way and that. He had not run into a single enemy yet. Seemed his companions were correct, they were now focused on one side, leaving their most important flank open to him. Moronic creatures, he spat.

After a while, the stench grew exponentially, a smell akin to wet dogs. He was now extremely close. Turning a bend, the cavern opened up into a circular room. Slowing his movement, he crouched low and crept along the floor until the light from his torch brushed against a nest of six eggs. Grey and spotted, he immediately recognized them. “Bingo,” he whispered to himself. They had moved their nest here.

Unwrapping the twine around the torch head, he let the magical flame shine, illuminating a third of the room. Brows shooting up, a chuckle gurgling in his throat, he scanned the near fifty small nests of eggs nestled here and there. His task was now at hand. According to the band leader, he was to simply throw in a bundle of dynamite and run but where was the fun in that?

Stepping up to the first nest, he scoffed and tilted his head. “You shall not see the light of day, filth,” he whispered with bile in his tone.

Lifting his long, wide foot, he brought it down like a hammer, the hard shells crunching easily into an oozing, yellowish curdled puddle. Feeling the cool splattered embryo’s underneath, filled him with an insatiable bloodlust. His form became that of a hysterical child, hopping from nest to nest, crushing all under his feet until not a single egg was left undestroyed. By the end of his horrid escapade, his legs and feet were splotched in gore he huffed in the saturated death, sordid chuckles seething through his bared teeth.

With his job finished, he had but to blow up the cavern and leave. Flicking his toes, he approached the exit of the den and halted instantly when a form came within the glow. There, before him, a female kobold with glinting crimson scales stared mortified at the Halfling, eyes as wide as possible. Standing a couple of inches short of him, his visage was imposing and horrible, more beast than she was. Within her arms, cradled protectively was a collection of three more eggs. There was no weapon on her person. She was completely defenseless.

Shaking her head, the kobold could not move, frozen from fear. The corner of the Halfling’s mouth turned upward. “I was hoping to find more females. Kill this blight at its source but you are the only fully grown kobold I have come across.” His voice came out sharply, dripping with a palpable hatred. “I guess you can easily breed another litter of greasy scaled bastards with ease. Unfortunately for you, you won’t take any part in it…” He examined her for a response but her expression remained the same, snout cracked open and fear-stricken. “You can’t even understand what I’m saying can you?” He scoffed. “You can understand this though…”

Like a flash, he blurred as his whirlwind steps closed the gap between them instantaneously. The blade rose high, as he sprang into the air, the gold glimmered in her eyes as it was slashed downward. His strike sliced true, slashing asunder her left arm like butter. Shrieking out, a baleful, hissing whine, she dropped the eggs to the ground. Before she could move again, another slash freed her of her other arm, flinging into a wall with a meaty slap. Another howl, music to his ears.

Falling on her backside, blood rolling out her nubs, she tried feebly to back away. Letting out crackling cries, she begged in unintelligible Draconic to death ears. Her tormentor stalked slowly, examining the red blood as it glided down his sword, asking himself if he should lick the blade like some villain. Deciding otherwise, he swiped it to the left, the blood splattering across the females face, making her wince as if she had been whipped.

Coming upon her, he pressed his foot to her chest. “Make the last one a good one.” Thrusting forward, he stabbed her directly in the gut, forcing her to writhe on the spot. The scream was not enough so he twisted the blade, feeling her innards satisfyingly crunch and squelch around his sword. Blood flayed from her mouth, forked tongue lashing about as she let out a more convincing wail of agony.

The Halfling worked on her until her voice dropped to a dying whistle, body going limp and her head lolling to the side. “That was a nice song you dirty lizard.”

From back in the tunnel, a cacophony of voices suddenly filled the stagnant air. He could make out a couple words of crude Draconic. More kobolds. He didn’t have much time. Removing the bundle of tied together dynamite, he used a flint stone and lit the fuse before covering up his torch and speeding out. If his calculations were correct, they would reach it just as it exploded. Though he wanted nothing more than to watch them blown to smithereens, he had to leave.

Breathing silently, he sprinted back the way he came, noting each of the exit markings he made earlier, keeping his route clear. Known for his speed, he saw the opening leading back into the open air within a few minutes and just as he reached it an earth-shattering boom sounded back within. Rolling outward, he slid just in time to see the tunnel’s ceiling spray into the air, raining down in massive clumps a ways away.

Laying on his back, face, and body scorching on the inside, he stared up at the patchwork of branches and the clouded sky beyond them. The rain continued, blurring his vision and cooling his skin. Chuckling softly at first, he soon began to cackle maniacally before breathing out in a long sigh. “Job complete.”

“Is that so?” A voice both gruff and smooth replied, the sound of soft footfalls coming up behind him.

“I’m sure you saw that explosion…or at the very least heard it,” the Halfling snickered.

“I also heard the screams, Master Quickblade. What was that all about?”

Flipping backward expertly to his feet, the Halfling known as Quickblade turned to the attractive, scruffy looking, broad-shouldered human who watched him with scrupulous brown eyes. The human appeared to scan him top to bottom, noting the blood on his legs and feet. Crossing his arms over his leather breastplate, the human waited for a reply, tapping his foot for good measure to show it.

Quickblade removed his hood and scratched the shaven part of his head where runes had been carved into his skin. “Just a den mother that got in the way. I dealt with her in a humane manner.” He then laughed as if he told a hilarious joke and started sauntering past him. “What are you doing here anyway? Never mind, I get it. You have feelings for me, don’t you? Eh, Marcus?”

Marcus made a light disgusted grunt. “Let’s just head back. The others are waiting.”

Sheathing his short sword, Quickblade took one last look at his handiwork and smiled from ear to ear.

#d&d #my writing #dnd

9 notes · View notes

sayofchains88 · 3 years

Text

Chapter Two: The capture and the new clan. by OrangeLetters88~

The two look outwards toward the sky. "Yes...I have done her a terrible evil. Unfortunately, I don't know what to do anymore. Do I give up, but that's why this happened in the first place." Alex replies softly. "Can you believe I trusted an appalling clan mate?" Alex starts to cry grabbing and tugging on Christian's shirt as he plummets down to his knees.

Christian sighs unable to give an answer. He puts his hands on Alex's head who continues to cry. "You sure must have a lot pent up inside of you...it's okay to let it out."

Christian pushes down Alex onto the sidewalk into a deep hug. "I must ask, how did Alice get turned? Why did you do it if you are like this?"

"You see I was dying. I also was too weak, but she decided to push herself on to me. I turned her fully when my clan leader came looking for me. He taught me how to create new younglings in case I make a clan..." Alex was saying till he noticed Christian looks at him engulfed in his words.

"You have the ability to turn?" Christian chimes excited.

"I mean yes. Oh wait are you asking me to turn you??" Alex shouts holding his hands out at Christian as he tries to push him aside.

"Let me help you! Let me protect you and Alice!" Christian begs. Alex gets up and starts to walk elsewhere.

"Where is your car Christian?" Alex inquires. Christian jumps ahead of him to open the door.

Alex grabs Christians face in the car. "What is wrong with you people? Seriously, can't you think of nothing else? Can't you help me without turning? The human spirit is tainted by fantasy and drama!" Alex argues without hesitation slightly ashamed Christian turns silent.

"So there is literally nothing I can say to convince you?" Christian replies feeling the heat of defeat.

"Okay...how we make a deal then. We rescue Alice. You talk to her. If you still feel the same after then I will grant you to be the second to my clan, alright?" Alex retorts conquered.

"Alright, let's do this!" Christian revs the engine and they pull out.

"I will show you where to go. We're going to my clans place." Alex types it into Alice's phone. Alex drives as fast as he can. From a far they observe a person with zip tied hands behind their back being led into the building.

"And you want to go inside?" Alex looks at Christian with an annoyed glance. "Do you have anything to defend yourself?"

Christian opens his trunk to find a hunting rifle and a jack wrench. "The hunting rifle has no bullets though. Tire wrench it is."

"Maybe I should have turned you into a vampire...were only two and even I can only do so much before they well you saw with just one." Alex says embarrassed.

"We will do our best with we got. I will hold you to your word to the end even if this means the end of us." Christian responds happily. He clasps Alex's hand a little before letting go.

They make their way into the building. Alex knocks. No answer at first later slowly the door opens. Christian is wide eyed with intimidation. All the people in the room laughing, legs kicking in the air and slapping their knees in hilarity almost as though they saw this coming; Alex walks in before Christian halting his progress by the extension of his arm.

"You really just knocked on the door? You kill us Alex?" Thompson laughs, but still signals to tie them up; Alex and Christian decide to not fight it as they realize they are out numbered.

"I am here for Alice. I also am amazed how you go and kidnap my own kin, but not go after Pappy. You are a disgraceful assistant." Alex denounces everyone in the room. They are forced to their knees to the boastful pride of capture from his detractors.

"You also bring a human to our door? Is he asking for a death wish?" Samantha hissed licking her fangs. The lust on her face was the look of euphoria.

"He is going to be my second of kin! No one gets to touch him or I will kill you." Alex tries to persuade while the group and sight of many new faces circle them both.

"We don't care about Pappy or that he is gone. We will turn Alice against you. She will rip your throat out and we will kill this human. Just throw him in a room and lock the door already. If you have to piss do it in your pants...better yet. Throw them in separate rooms. Bring them out for the ceremony. Alex maybe if we starve you long enough you will desire to kill your human friend eh?" Thompson says kicking him in the face many times.

Alex and Christian are crudely thrown into two small rooms with nothing in them. Quickly they lock the room behind them. Alex knows his room as he helped build them with Pappy. A small window looking into the next room in the back of them so they can view inside.

Alex's door opens up to see someone glower at him for a moment pushing him against the wall out of spite. "Tell me where is Dawn? She surely is the most sane here I can talk too."

The member shoots back at him. "Too late...she already left...she was looking for you. We let her go without a fight. She is scary for a woman not even Cooper could fight her if he tried. Now look ahead a head and enjoy the show, he departs slamming the door.

Right away he peers into it to window with alarm. Alice screams as she tries to kick the man away dressed in all black. Her hands zip tied to a pipe above her.

She is draped in a long flowing white night gown. "We caught your boyfriend and some other human he brought along. Soon you will do your first feeding. You will no longer struggle against us I promise." The voice reports to Alice who is anxious of her impending fate in the hands of Alex's clan who seems like nothing, but strangers to her. Fussy she bashes the pipes to cause a ruckus. The door opens and the man looks back. "Oh it's you Cooper."

Instantaneously she kicks the man in the face. "Stop harassing Alice. She is plenty scared enough as it is. My lady I am very sorry. I need you to follow me please." Cooper asks cutting the ties. "Idiot, do something proper and prepare the two already."

Cooper looks in Alex's direction. He slides down quick as possible, but knows he has been seen. He can feel the sweat drip down his face. So many new faces now occupy the clan. Cooper by far has come off the most to subdue him only for now.

Sitting on the floor in an isolated prison, he knows he will grow hungry for blood again very soon and without it. He fears he will hurt Christian or worse. He came in time to their preparations.

With that he will be able to produce some sort of quick thought or he hopes deep inside. Hours pass, he finds all he can do is rest. The door unlocks. Someone grabs him by the collar of his shirt once again requires him to get on his feet with the order to move. Regardless of their actions he stays quiet going down a long foyer to their ceremony hall.

Christian is tethered to the spot on his knees. He is closer to another person who was brought in much earlier. She is wailing. Christian looks over her direction in sympathy reacting when they decide to whip her often for being upset; a stage above is where Alice is seated in a large wicker chair.

Alex is pushed onto the stage. Most of the hall is empty otherwise. Cooper spots Alex on stage and slams his head into the ground. His legs lay flat onto the ground unable to position himself so he stays. "Traitors don't deserve to sit anywhere near me. The ground is where you belong."

Laying an awkward angle, Cooper gestures to bring over Christian. Alice and Christians eyes meet. Alice stands up in shock. "Sir I can't do this. Please allow me to another. He is my friend. I beg you!" Alice objects.

"Defiant are we? Your clan leader lies on the ground. Do you wish me to kill him? I can be kind Alice or I can be scary. I am asking you chose my mood." Copper yells as he kicks the wicker chair on its side. "I am kind enough to not allow the members to ogle you. They are away. It is just us here. Do not test my patience."

Hastily she dips to the ground. A tear wells in the corner of her eyes, Christian's mouth has been tied with a white cloth. Alex uncertain why they needed to shave his hair in the back viewing this in the distance, he struggles to be okay with this situation not even closing his eyes could help the horrible feeling he was getting in his stomach right now. The feeling he could die makes him shake looking up at Alice's face before accepting the debacle he allowed himself to get into.

Alice bites into his neck on command she trembles in the act of her sharp fangs burying into his neck. He no longer could keep in his position slumping over. Alex breaks the ties keeping him captive to thrust Alice out of the way to catch Christian no longer conscious. The scent of blood had him hold a moment while he comes to his senses.

Cooper claps at Alex. "What a sight to see. I wondered when you would break those ties, but I cannot let you leave." Cooper states. Alice seems in a trance. Her eyes blank staring out at the ceiling, her arms limp to her side.

A flashback of his first taste while he watches Alice in a stupor from afar, but knows he is significantly in danger. Concerned he jumps up to the rafters. Christian being a bit heavy makes this all the harder for him. He knows he needs to think fast albeit he looks around the room.

He listens for Christian's heartbeat. Only faintly, but Cooper was not going to allow it catching up to him with a striking blow of his fists. Alex easily vaults to another spot away to dig his teeth into his neck to consume the rest of the blood in Christian's system.

"You have no other choice it seems. If I hadn't known better you didn't originally have plans to turn him." Cooper laughs. Alex gives the middle finger then rips into his own arm to feed Christian enough before dropping down like an acrobat to lay him on the ground next to Alice who wakes out of it when Alex slightly touches her.

"Alex? Where am I?" She asks abruptly. Alex avoids answering.

"Cooper what can I do to leave? I detect you don't plan to fight me." Alex shouts with both hands open wide.

Walking up the stairs slowly Cooper whacking Alex across the face with enough force. "I am not allowing you or your friends to go. You are a heathen bastard. No matter how many kin you make you will still be worthless."

Christian dry heaves before standing up. Looking down at his hands flexing his fingers to work them out, he feels agility ignite in his body when he out of nowhere he punches Cooper in the stomach. "That is for my friend Alex." Interrupting Coopers abuse, Christian grabs Alice pushing through the door hearing the lock break under pressure.

Alex face palms, but he walks behind quickly. Christian throws Alice into Alex's arms picking the dropped tire wrench smashing Thompson's hands and stomach all while bursting the main doors off its hinges brandishing it like a flail or morning star swinging it multiple times almost as though it was a boomerang.

"Where the hell is all this energy coming from?" Alex yells as the door opens. Cooper catches up at the door way pulling back Alice by her long gown with a clear glare. Alex and Christian outside inch back.

Exhausted Cooper comes through the door breaking pieces up from where tire wrench destroyed the door in which falls to the ground before Alice could break away with her nightgown Cooper reaches for her hair. She wails with each tug of his hand like reigns on a horse.

The sun coming up on the horizon Christian tosses Alex the keys. He starts it up the moment Christian decides to once again wield the tire jack retrieving it from the ground. However the entire clan catches on pulling Alice deep into their crowd. "CHRISTIAN! ALEX!" She screams the further back she is swung.

Coopers arms folded smugly. He sneers his laughter echoes. "It seems you are the fastest I ever seen coming too I will admit, but you will not make it any further."

The adrenaline no longer hitting him; his eyes change back to normal. A wave of sadness has him stick his arm out at Cooper. Alex gets out of the car to drag him away from touching Cooper's hand.

Dunking his head under to not hit the top of the car he drives off fast as possible. "Hey, hey Christian, are you okay buddy?"

Christians head darts back in the seat titling upwards. "No..." his words slur all the while feeling sick he closes his eyes, Alex puts his hand on his shoulder.

"But you got us out of there. You have impressive strength and agility." Alex trying to convince him it was the right thing to do.

"You have the worst bartering skills. You cannot barter monsters! Pull over please!" Christian pleads getting out when they park on a side with grass visible. Barely making it before continuously throwing up everything in his stomach; Alex pats his back softly. "How are we going to get Alice back when you are not capable mean bone in your body? Jesus knows I am going to hell now...but it's not like I was any good a person before that..."

Alex felt like he wanted to input, but stopped in mid thought putting his head down. "I have been alive since 1900's, but I did not become one till the steels strikes that happened. I piggy backed off a group of small workers boys. We turned due to an offer to never be hungry again well not in the same way anyways. Was I wrong taking that strangers hand that day?" Alex illustrates his past to Christian. "I am starting to think Cooper is one of those worker boys like I was. He has grown cruel, but that is probably how he views the world now."

"What will they do to Alice?" Christian demands to know.

"They may force indoctrination on her. We must expect anything the next time." Alex responds solemnly.

Christian huffs wiping from his mouth hurdled over. Nearly six am the sky almost day. "We need to go back home. Alex I am dizzy as fuck."

Alex helps Christian back into the car. Making sure to seat him properly, Christian pushes down the visor and pushes back the seat. "How long does it take to get used to this?" he says closing his eyes.

"Eventually, I can't say..."Alex drives back slowly; his aim is not to catch attention. They reach the hill to notice a crowd of people outside of Alice's home. Alex determines to park far down away from other cars. He shakes Christian. "Christian, Christian wake up, we got a situation!"

https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/269037735/write/1067445706 If you like what you see please support me on wattpad~

#original story #vampires #drama

0 notes

imsarabum · 7 years

Text

{PART 27} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; As death enters the room to claim a soul; so does life. Who shall live and who shall die - as you begin to wonder...is this really the end?

“And as he looked upon her face amidst the madness, he saw everything he held close depart his world; while she slipped into the next”

|| Warning: This chapter contains mentions of blood and some scenes that readers may find upsetting ||

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

{Part 1} // {Part 26} {Part 27} {Part 28}

Pain, suffering and excruciating, mind-numbing agony entered your stiffened body in the form of Vampire venom hellishly graced upon you by Yoongi’s fangs. The bite itself was torturous – even when Yoongi had ripped them clean out of you after injecting you with his poison. In many ways, it felt like you had been stabbed with two heated blades; but you never anticipated the throbbing torment that travelled to all corners of your body with each beat of your heart that carried the venom in your bloodstream. You didn’t even notice the blood spilled from your neck – staining the white dress you wore in its wake. You didn’t notice that you had since fallen to the floor – nor did you hear Jungkook wailing and bellowing at the top of his lungs from the other side of the room; fighting against all the odds despite being broken and weak from battle. All you knew was nothing less than pain as you felt what could only be described as acid being pumped through your system – causing your body to convulse, your limbs to seize and your muscles to lock into contorted positions on the ground.

“Is this it? Is this where it ends?” you heard yourself in your own head, wondering what would become of you. For a moment, you thought back to Taehyung’s words about your body not being able to handle the change; which only brought Jimin’s face into your mind, and you started seeing the faces of everyone who had touched your life in such delicate, yet powerful ways.

“Jimin...Taehyung” you knew you were screaming – but your words were nonsensical. “Cassidy...mother, father...” you lost touch with reality as you completely disassociated your mind from your body – knowing that any fight left in you was slowly fading away like an old, used up oil burner.

“Jungkook...” you longed to look into his eyes – to see his angelic face one last time, but in the midst of your struggle to try and get a hold of yourself, you couldn’t differentiate left from right – up from down, nor could you hear anything...except your heart that was quickly decreasing in speed. “I’ll never see him again, I won’t see any of them again...and...I just want it to end” you silently begged for death, wanting nothing more than to become a mere shell of your former self; knowing that anything would be less painful than the pain you were currently being subjected to. You knew that you should keep fighting against the force that was weakening you; but what was the point? “If I live through this...I’ll be under his control...Yoongi’s control. He’ll use me as a weapon to cause mass destruction to not only Vampires – but humans as well. Everything...everything is damned. And it’s all because I wasn’t strong enough. Jungkook...I love you; can you ever forgive me?” you had all but truly, given up.

Since biting you, Yoongi had let you slip from his grasp – watching you collapse on the floor as everyone in the room listened to your blood-curdling screams, your deafening shrieks and cries of aching affliction that made Jungkook’s skin crawl with every wave. Each time that Jungkook tried his best to crawl to be by your side, his body was met with another forceful kick to his ribs by Seokjin – causing consumed blood inside Jungkook to escape his mouth from the brutal beating that had been forced upon him. But no matter how painful it was; Jungkook still kept trying to make his way over to you – to try and hold you in his embrace, even if his attempts were all but in vain.

Taehyung, still with Jimin in his arms, sat at the foot of the living room doors – watching the entire tragedy unfold right before his eyes – hearing your heartbeat slow, being able to sense all of your vital organs shut down one by one. “Her body is just too weak to withstand the change...(Y/N); you’re...you’re dying...” he bit his lip in frustration as he looked to Jimin – his skin clammy and his expression one mixed with defeat and agony. “Jimin, you tried to save her...but my brother – my only brother, he...he killed both of you” Taehyung could almost touch the life that was currently leaving Jimin’s eyes as they both looked into each other’s souls.

Yoongi began stepping back, not being able to take his eyes off your body as it convulsed before him. It almost looked like somewhat of a demonic possession – how your eyes rolled back, how you seemingly foamed at your mouth as you let out inaudible words of fear and confusion. “This is wrong...this isn’t what the book said would happen; it said the change should be instantaneous – what’s happening?!” Yoongi began to worry, furrowing his brows together as he watched your struggle diminish. “Her heart...it’s...”

“No! (Y/N)! Please...please, God – no!” Jungkook roared with his face firmly planted against the bloodstained floor; as your heart finally stopped beating.

“She’s –“ Yoongi began.

“Master, is she...?” Seokjin piped up, still making sure that Jungkook wasn’t able to go anywhere near you.

“She’s dead! You’ve killed her!”Jungkook cried out in vain, feeling such rage and pity for you and himself manifest its way into his chest – his own heart, and his entire soul. “You bastard...I’ll...I’m going to...” Jungkook whimpered as he finally took to his feet – bloodied, bruised and battle-worn in his appearance and energy while he tried his best to stumble towards Yoongi. Seokjin and Yoongi watched Jungkook as the Prince threw his fist at Yoongi’s face, completely missing him altogether and falling once again to the floor.

“...she was...just too weak” Yoongi rolled Jungkook on to his back with a flick of his foot against his body – both Vampires looking each other dead in the eye; while your cold, lifeless body lay directly parallel to Jungkook’s.

“My (Y/N)...my beautiful (Y/N); I’ve failed you I – I....I couldn’t shield you or the life you carried inside you...I’m...I’m nothing” Jungkook coughed up another round of blood – gargling and almost choking on it as all he wished was to turn back time and to never have left you alone in the Manor. In that moment, Jungkook selfishly didn’t care about anything else – his family, his title of being a Prince; he didn’t even care about the Vampire who had taken everything away from you, everything away from Taehyung; and now himself in turn. All he cared about was the fact that you were gone – completely obliterated from the very thing you managed to give him; life. “I’ll never see that smile again, I’ll never hear her beautiful laugh or feel her heavenly touch... and I won’t ever forgive myself” Jungkook no longer tried to hold back his tears of scornful sorrow as he wept over the loss of the only thing he had ever loved with every fibre of his entire being.

Outside on the gravel, Namjoon finally came to his senses after being hurled out the window – opening his eyes to be met with the raging storm that continued to beat down upon him.

“Namjoon! Where are you?! Get in here!” he heard the familiar voice of his master call out.

Namjoon slowly took to his feet, balancing himself carefully before steadying himself with the help of the Manor’s exterior walls. The last thing he wanted to do was to answer to Yoongi’s every beck and call; alas, his soul being bound to him meant that he had no choice. Reluctantly, Namjoon pulled himself back through the gap in the window – only to be met by the sight of you bleeding out on the floor; limp, frail...and unquestionably dead. What hit him next was something that he hadn’t experienced for just shy of twenty years since being turned; guilt, sadness and the feeling of an imaginary hole in his heart. For when you had previously touched him prior to Yoongi sending him crashing on to the courtyard, you had returned Namjoon’s feelings to him; and your death caused undeniable feelings, albeit torturous ones, to fill him to the brim. Without so much as a second thought, Namjoon immediately went to rush to be by your side – for what reason, he didn’t know. But before he could successfully do so – he found himself being steered away from your body as Yoongi grabbed him away; yanking him to the left and glaring straight into his eyes.

“Yoongi...you – did you...what did you do?!” Namjoon yelled, looking back and forth between Yoongi and your body, raindrops dripping from his ashen hair that sprayed as he turned his head. Yoongi rolled his eyes, before taking a fistful of Namjoon’s leather jacket and slamming him against the wall beside the broken window. “She’s dead, Yoongi! What did you do?!”

“Shut the fuck up you useless vermin!” Yoongi screamed into the taller rogue’s distraught face. “Shut the fuck up and help me!”

“Help you how? How am I supposed to help you, Yoongi?! You...you killed her; you...I –“ Namjoon couldn’t believe how things had transpired as he struggled to find the sense to allow himself to think clearly for even a moment.

“I just bit her! I didn’t do anything – I bit her just like the book told me to and she just started doing some freaky shit on the ground and then the next thing I knew, she just...she just died!” Yoongi retracted his hands from Namjoon and began tugging at his own hair as if he intended to pull each strand out from the root. Namjoon watched Yoongi as he proceeded to pace back and forth, trying to come up with some way to right the wrongs of the evening; but they both knew of no way to turn back time; which Namjoon knew was the only thing that could possibly have helped his master at that stage.

Across the room, still cradling Jimin for dear life, Taehyung looked up to observe his brother; listening to him mumble over and over like a madman, before he couldn’t hold his tongue any further. “I told you her body wouldn’t be able to withstand it – you knew what could happen, yet you still did it anyway!” he shouted, before finally letting words pass his lips that he had been holding back for what seemed like an eternity.

“You...you destroy everything you touch...and you never learn” he whispered through his tears as he tightened his grasp on Jimin – not fearing the death that could be inflicted upon him at the hands of his own brother. “You’ve taken the only thing I’ve ever loved – the only thing I had for myself...and I’m not afraid of you any more, brother” Taehyung locked eyes with Yoongi as his elder brother came storming towards him like he was walking upon hot coals.

“Yeah? Do you wanna be next?!” Yoongi stopped right before Taehyung, watching him as fresh tears trickled down his cheeks.

“If you so wish – then so be it. But...unlike you, brother...I would never lay my hands on you. Even after everything you’ve done in your lifetime. Because I...I was never like you, was I? You always called me the weak one – and maybe you’re right. But I sure as hell would never even dream about hurting you; despite all the hurt you caused me. And that...that is the biggest difference between you and I.” Deep down inside, Taehyung silently wished for someone to put a stop to his brother – but not because he hated him; for Taehyung wasn’t capable of hating anyone.

Yoongi took a long, hard glare at Taehyung – wanting nothing more than to lay him to rest; but like Taehyung, Yoongi knew that he could never bring himself to hurt his only brother. “You’re lucky I can’t fathom why I can’t bring myself to harm you...” Yoongi sneered inwardly to himself, before turning on his heel and continuing to manically pace the entire length of the living room; something he often did when things didn’t go his way. Jungkook listened to Yoongi’s panicked footsteps as if they were as constant as a metronome, mixed in with the thunderous storm outside – feeling more weak than he had ever felt in all his years alive; both physically and emotionally. His breathing was shallow as he struggled to gasp for air, and he knew that he needed blood to sustain his body from blood he lost during the fight. But ultimately, Jungkook had all but given up as he panned his eyes back to your form just across from him; gazing upon your face that looked like you were all but peacefully lost in the land of slumber. In that moment, Jungkook recalled all the nights he lay beside you, watching you sleep – content in so many blissful ways...and the feeling of loosing you was absolutely too much to bear.

“Maybe we just need to wait” Yoongi finally strung together words that made sense.

“For what? Her body to decompose? Or for Jungkook’s family to get here with reinforcements?” Namjoon answered back, completely unafraid of the repercussions his words might cause.

“...the next time you open your mouth – I better hear words that are of use to me; or else you’ll join her. You’ve gotten awfully talkative since you let her touch you...” Yoongi let out a vicious growl, having no idea he looked and sounded like the purest form of a being that had been driven to complete and utter insanity through the power of greed and selfishness.

It had seemed like hours since Yoongi last spoke – but it had only been a few minutes in reality as Jungkook still found himself laying on the floor like a docile lamb, waiting to be put out of his misery. He knew that there was nothing more he could do – and he knew that Yoongi had absolutely no idea what his next move should be as it seemed like he was waiting until the last minute before his parents would arrive.

“Why do I still keep looking at you, (Y/N)? Is it because you’re gone? Or is it because I wish you were still here?” Jungkook flicked his heavy eyes in your direction once again, following the trail of your once aromatic blood that did nothing for him at this stage as he rested his vision on your hand that was outstretched on the ground. It was then, Jungkook widened his eyes slightly – as he saw what he thought to be the tiniest form of life...in the form of your finger flinching ever-so-gently.

“...(Y/N)?” he questioned himself – keeping his stare firmly fixed on your finger. “Is it because of my weakened state? Am I seeing only what I want to see? Have I gone delirious?” he kept quiet, thinking that he had joined Yoongi in the realms of madness...before his eyes confirmed it to be true; as your finger flinched once more.

“She’s...she’s alive?!” Jungkook knew he wasn’t just imagining it any more as he observed several different parts of you move only subtly – your fingers, your eyelids, your lips...but they were absolutely moving. “What’s going on? I felt...I felt her presence leave this world – and I still can’t feel it in the air around us all. What is this?” he searched his tired mind for answers he just didn’t possess.

Very carefully, Jungkook angled his head to look back at Yoongi – watching him as he continued to babble on about how all of this was wrong and how you can’t be dead; before seeing that Namjoon and Taehyung had both since caught on to your little signs of frail life. Jungkook passed confused, knowing looks between both of them – looks that went completely unnoticed to Yoongi and Seokjin; looks that said “Say...absolutely...nothing...”

You felt nothing – but everything at the same time, almost as if you were floating inside a space- time vacuum that held no gravity or matter, as you saw the darkness that was the backs of your eyelids; keeping them peacefully closed. Mere moments ago – you had felt the coldness of the wind sweeping in through the broken window; the dampness of the rain that splattered down on the floor beside you – and of course, the pain that had been surging through your entire body. But now – none of that seemed present; and instead, all you could feel was bliss.

“Am I dead?” you wondered for a second, feeling a warming sensation on your skin as you furrowed your eyebrows together – still with your eyes closed. “It feels like...like the sun?” you still were unsure of your surroundings as you used your fingers to feel the surface underneath you.

“It’s soft...grass?” you felt the gentle padding of foliage beneath your fingertips – knowing that what seemed like only a few seconds ago, you were on the cold, wooden floor of Jungkook’s living room. Feeling slightly startled, you shot your eyes open – only to be met with a sight that not only greatly confused you, but completely took every breath you had inside of you away.

Not knowing where you were or how you got there, you stood up straight – noticing that you were still wearing the white dress as you took in the sight of your surroundings. While you took a gasp of fresh air – you found yourself in the middle of a field filled with blooming flowers of all kinds – roses, lilies, tulips and daises to name but a few. It stretched for as far as your eye could see; and above you, sat the sun in her sky, shining down upon your skin and warming your once chilly bones.

“(Y/N)!” you heard a familiar voice call you, causing you to spin round on the spot to gaze upon a slight inclination – a beautiful oak tree in full and glorious bloom sitting atop of a small hill. But most surprisingly of all, the voice belonged to your brother, Cassidy – who was sitting beneath the tree; as if he had been expecting you.

“...Sid?!” you called out as you nonsensically began running towards him – only now noticing that you were completely barefoot, not that it mattered anyway as the feeling of the earth below your feet was a comforting one; one that reminded you of your childhood in the country, living with your grandparents. As you ran towards him, you noticed that even though you had been running for the best part of thirty seconds, you weren’t out of breath – nor did you feel even the slightest bit of fatigue.

“Sid! How did you – how did I? Oh Sid...” you finally reached him to see your kid brother sitting upon a stray root of the tree, smiling up into your face as the sun’s rays peaked through the leaves and shadowed his face almost angelically. You felt yourself welling up – seeing his beautiful, smiling complexion; his hair relaxed that blew in the gentle wind along with the flowers and leaves that surrounded you both. Upon walking closer to him – you wondered for a moment; “Are you real? Am I dreaming?” – before you extended your hand to caress Cassidy’s cheek, feeling the delicate dewiness of his skin that both calmed and terrified you.

“Sid...how did you get here?” you asked him, but he never responded – only, he continued smiling at you, before you saw his eyes wander behind you as if to signal you towards something. Quickly, you followed his gaze to see none other than Jungkook climbing the small hill; dressed in his comfortable Sunday attire as if all three of you had decided to go for a scenic picnic in the countryside.

“Jungkook!” your voice was airy, yet excited as you ran towards him – throwing your arms around his broaden shoulders as he took you in his arms in turn...yet he never spoke; taking on the same vow of silence as your brother. “Jungkook...how did you get here? How did I get here? What happened to Yoongi? Where’s Taehyung? Is Jimin okay? Was it...was it all just a bad dream?” you let question after question spill from your lips – but all you got in turn was a cherubic smile from Jungkook; his eyes gentle and gleaming as they had always been.

“Jungkook...please talk to me – I’m so confused. What is this?” you begged him – before seeing several familiar faces begin to gather at the foot of the hill; Jungkook’s family – including Serrena and Jeonju, Taehyung, Jimin, Namjoon, your mother and father – with your grandparents...and finally, Mugsy – who was being held by Jimin as every single one of them smiled to you...as if you were their sole source of happiness.

“...I’m...I’m dead, right? This...this can’t be real...” you blinked over and over as you shook your head, trying your best to make sense of everything around you. Everything from how you felt Jungkook’s grasp on you, to Cassidy’s cheek, to the grass beneath your feet and the sun upon your skin felt real.

“...are you lost, child?”

You widened your eyes to their full capacity upon hearing a beautiful – yet mysterious voice come from behind you. The voice was one that you had never heard before, but there was a likeness to it that you just couldn’t put your finger upon. It was not a singular voice of a man or a women – but it was almost like two tones put together; making the voice completely unidentifiable, but wonderful to listen to. Slowly, you bravely turned around to make eye contact with whoever was speaking to you – but upon gazing on the being, you found yourself at a loss for words.

“I...” was all you could utter as you gazed upon a being that you couldn’t peg as being a man or woman – rather, the being seemed completely androgynous; you would even go as far as to say that they looked genderless in their entire form. To your wonder, the being smiled at you most angelically – their smile so heavenly and gentle that you found yourself almost smiling back – noticing their eyes to be the colour of deep, golden sand; but unlike any shade you had ever witnessed before. “I think...maybe – yes. I think I’m lost...” you responded shyly, looking back at Jungkook who continued to smile at you as if he knew of what was going on.

“That’s okay, we’re all partial to becoming lost sometimes – aren’t we?” the being continued smiling as they stepped forward. At long last, you noticed their magnificent ground-length, blue, embroidered with white material gown that hooded their hairless head completely. If you were to take an educated guess, you would have questioned whether or not this being was a figment of your imagination – something straight out of a fantasy novel or from the realms of someone’s imaginative fantasy world. But as clear as day, the being that was much taller than you stood directly in front of you with a serene, warming smile graced upon their features.

“Who are you?” you asked the first question that came to your mind. The being passed a gentle, knowing glance to the side – before looking up at the leaves that shrouded both of your heads under the brilliant, yet calming sunshine.

“Not you – not I; but we” they replied – their voice as soft as roses and their features so beautiful, it looked like they had been handcrafted by the gods. “We are sine nomine – we are the nameless – and we are pleasured to finally meet the one who will change the world when she finds her way home~”

“We? Meet the one who will change the world? What on earth are you talking about? And – where is this place? Do you know if I’m dead?” you certainly didn’t beat around the bush as you really just wanted to get to the bottom of all the confusion that resided within you. You did, however, notice that the being made no contact with Jungkook and the others that stood around you – and vice versa for them with the being, too.

“Yes, my child. We. For there are no singular sine nomine. We...we are the ones who placed the first domitors on this earth; and how wonderful it has been to watch you grow, (Y/N)” the sine nomine paused to take a breath; despite the bewildered look on your face.

“This place...this place is not a place for the living – but it is also not a place for the dead, either. We refer to this dimension as ‘falsum paradisum´- or perhaps ‘false paradise’ in the tongue you are most familiar with. Your physical body will be where you left it in your realm – but your soul has wandered to this one; think of it like a waiting room, between your world and the next. The vision you see around you is different for each person that arrives here. Ah, what a beautiful scene...but it’s your true idea of happiness; and that is why you will be able to see all the ones who you hold close to your wonderful heart around you, too. Tell me, domitor (Y/N) – why did you imagine this place?” the being tilted their head with the utmost, genuine curiosity.

“...uh...well – I guess it kind of looks like the fields that surrounded my grandparents house when I used to live there. And – I can see my family and...and the person I love; well, Vampire I love...” you trailed off – wondering how the being would reply to you.

“Yes...it appears that a domitor has finally fallen in love with a Vampire after thousands of years; we wondered when such a time would come. And goodness gracious – it seems the Prince of the Eternal Kingdom has chosen you as the one he wishes to love for eternity and a day!” the being clasped their long, elegant fingers together as you looked back to Jungkook for a moment – watching the gentle breeze catch his hair, making it flutter across his forehead.

“To answer your question, (Y/N)...I’m afraid that I have good news and bad news; such is life, eh?” the being chuckled as they turned to face the field – gazing upon the figment of your imagination. “(Y/N) – the human domitor was killed by Yoongi, the rogue Vampire. But...just like the phoenix...you will rise from the ashes, my child. You were meant for greatness – and my goodness, what greatness you will bring onto the world. That is why you are here, so that we can talk for a few moments before you return to where the living belong.”

“...so, I’m not human any more?” you asked, looking down at yourself to try and find any noteworthy changes about yourself – but alas, everything was the same as you had always remembered it to be.

“No, my child. You see, when Yoongi bit you – his venom that wreaked havoc upon your body then tried to overpower your old DNA. We suspect that Yoongi assumed it would work upon you just like it would work upon any other human he has turned before...but domitors don’t work like this at all. In fact, when you are released from this state – you will come to know that your domitor DNA has synced perfectly with the DNA of his Vampire venom. Essentially; you are more than a Vampire and a domitor now – and it has completely rewritten your entire build up. This is why you were subjected to such an immense amount of pain, in such a short space of time”

You stood silently for a moment – the realisation of the fact that you were probably the first person ever to meet this mysterious sine nomine who was the sole creator of domitors – settling into your mind. “How do you know all of this? I mean – I didn’t mean that to sound as rude as it did, but; are you from the Netherworld? Are you on Vampire’s side? Where is...where is your realm?” you turned to face the sine nomine – seeing them continue to beam at you delightfully.

“We are everywhere and nowhere; and we are only on the side of those who do good - Vampire or human, it doesn’t matter. We do not reside in any particular realm – for we see and know of all knowledge this world has. But – to put it in simple terms, no; we do not come from the Netherworld. In fact, the place that we and you were first created in is probably similar to what humans refer to as heaven – or a place of nirvana. But we can assure you – it’s nothing like the stories in books found on earth that were written by man~” the sine nomine chuckled somewhat gracefully – their golden-sand-like eyes glistening in the sun that completely mesmerised you. “When we first learned of Vampires being stripped of their emotions; this threw off the natural balance of life that we strive to attain. Hence; we placed domitors on earth to tip the scales back to their correct position - and it worked in everyone’s favour...mostly.” you listened to their words carefully, finally understanding how and why domitors came to be; but something else bothered you in turn.

“...you said that...that I would be the one to change the world. What does that mean? I mean – I know that I have this...this ability to give emotion, and to help natum lamia become fully fledged Vampires; is that what you mean? To continue the work of domitors?” you ever-so-innocently asked the being, just wanting to be as informed as you could possibly be. “I’m...I’m not special. And I really don’t think that I’m going to perform all these ‘great things’ as you mentioned. I couldn’t even move when Yoongi...when he killed me” you looked to the ground, recalling how weak you had been when faced with the certain death that was Yoongi.

“Oh my dear child...” the sine nomine turned to face you – placing their hands on your shoulders that spoke so many levels of comfort to you in the most natural way imaginable. “You will be able to do much more than just return emotions and heal natum lamia from their sickness. You are a Vampire-domitor hybrid...do you know that you will now be the only being on planet earth that possess all the strengths of a Vampire, a domitor and a human – combined?” their eyes bore into yours – dazzling and dizzying you beyond belief. “We’re afraid that time doesn’t allow for us to talk of all the things you will be able to do – but before we depart, there are just a few things we must inform you of” the being spoke hastily, but calmly to you.

“Yoongi was wrong when he assumed that you will be bound to him. Domitors cannot be bound to anyone...especially not a domitor who is now a Vampire, too - despite his venom being the thing that enlightened you. You have no need to fear – you will not answer to him as your master.”

“...well, that’s good to know” you let out a half-hearted chuckle, mixed with a fulfilling sigh of relief.

“You will come to know of all the greatness you can achieve upon waking up – think of it like a link of information from us, to you. It will come naturally to you – we can promise you that, (Y/N)” the sine nomine’s voice was both haunting and melodic to you as they slowly offered you several, soft blinks of their feathered lashes that lined their beautiful eyes. It was then that you actually took a moment to wonder what would await you when you ‘woke up’ – as you took a breath to question the being once more.

“...when I go back; I’ll be faced with Yoongi again?” you asked, seeing the sine nomine nod in turn. “Do – do I have to...could I? Am I expected to – you know?” you didn’t want to say the actual words you were thinking; for they terrified you.

“Are you asking whether or not we are requiring you to eliminate Yoongi?” the being asked, to which you nodded quickly in response, keeping your eyes anywhere but theirs. “Ultimately, that decision is completely up to you. It would seem – given that Yoongi has been the sole destructor of so many aspects in your life that extracting your pound of flesh would be suitable revenge. I don’t think anyone would judge you unfavourably for that. But – may we offer a few words of advice?”

“...um – sure?” you didn’t know what caused you to smile amidst the seriousness of the topic – but perhaps, the fact that the sine nomine seemed so calm and gentle in their nature that it soothed even the deepest worries that resided within your heart.

“To err is human; to forgive, divine” their words were powerful yet tranquil, as you mulled them over in your mind. “Whatever decision you make; we will take it as the correct one – and you will have our help and support throughout the remainder of your eternal life”

“Eternal life? Oh...yeah – I almost forgot” you felt somewhat docile and idiotic at the remembrance of the fact that you were now exactly the same as Jungkook and his family. Although, the notion of the sine nomine telling you that you were essentially even more powerful than Jungkook not only worried you, but left you questioning how your new form would affect your relationship with him. You still had many questions – would you thirst for blood? Would you be able to control your metabolism like a Vampire could – essentially freezing your youth and looking like you currently did for the rest of your days? But, however important those questions might have seemed; nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“It’s almost time to go back, (Y/N); so as a parting gift, we would like to inform you of one last thing. Although you will feel it as soon as you return...we just wanted you to have one exciting thought to encourage you in your battle upon waking up” the sine nomine took your hand and raised it to their lips, giving you a small, chaste kiss on your knuckles.

“You are now the most powerful creature – above any Vampire, domitor, human or animal that exists in your realm. The ones whom you cherish? Let them be your guiding light in the shadowy darkness that you currently face. But most of all – you have something very small, very fragile – but very powerful inside you at this moment; all of which means that throughout all things you must face from this second onwards...you will never walk alone, my child” their voice became almost evanescent, as the bright light from the sun seemed to fade. In the aftermath of their words, you looked around you – seeing everyone, including Jungkook; continuing to bear encouraging, opulent smiles on their faces, which in turn...gave you immeasurable courage for what you knew you must do.

“(Y/N), you are carrying half of the Prince of the Eternal Kingdom, and half of us inside of you in the form of a child. You, your child; and your future children, will help bring about great change in the world. You and the Vampiric Prince, will rewrite history as we all know it” you found yourself wide eyed and in complete and utter shock at the sine nomine having just so eloquently told you that you were pregnant; but somehow, even though in any other situation you might have been confused and overjoyed at such surprising news – you knew you had a task to do...and you were hell-bent on completing it to the best of your ability.

As you stared into the sine nomine’s beautiful eyes – you felt your dream-like world beginning to collapse around you; falling away into the hazy recess of your mind as you finally felt compelled to close your eyes. You had been given so much information in such a short space of time – making you feel almost sick and dizzy from having to process it all. You knew that with this information, you – and only you, could provide countless Vampires with long awaited answers to burning questions as to where domitors had come from - and who created them. Ultimately, you wondered if you had gone absolutely crazy – if you had just imagined the entire thing. But as you felt your mind settle back into your physical body; you knew that absolutely none of that mattered.

“I know what I must do...” you had concluded.

Meanwhile, Yoongi had since taken to venting his frustrations out on Namjoon – calling him every vile name known to the world as the storm continued to rumble and crash above the Manor.

“Master...there’s nothing more that we can do. She’s – you’ve killed her. If we continue to wait here for her to magically return from the dead, we’ll only be met with the royal family coming to detain us all” Namjoon spoke calmly as he knew that there was some form of life inside you – but he just didn’t quite know how. In many ways, all Namjoon wanted was for Yoongi to leave with him, Hoseok – who was still passed out cold at the far end of the room, and Seokjin to depart as quickly as possible; to allow time for Jungkook to regain his energy and figure out why your body had been subtly twitching and flinching as if you were fighting to survive.

Yoongi let out a sigh of frustration and anger, turning his back on every soul in the room and resting his hands upon the marble fireplace – wrecking his brains through and through. He knew that there was truth to Namjoon’s words, but he just couldn’t let go of the fact that he had essentially brought his own plans crashing down around him like the thunder and lightning outside. “I...I don’t fucking know what I should do...” he murmured to himself, biting his lip and furrowing his brows; knowing that he must leave soon, or face certain and undeniable death by Serrena when she arrived.

Suddenly, as if from absolutely nowhere – everyone in the room felt an undeniable shift in the build up of the atmosphere. It was as if everyone’s ears were being filled with deafening white noise – a vibrant frequency that filled their entire beings. Jungkook took a gasp of air as he kept his eyes firmly locked on your face...before seeing you smile.

“...(Y/N)...” he thought – full of hope.

“What the hell is that sound?!” Yoongi’s voice blared as he still kept his back turned - putting his hands over his ears to try and think clearly.

“...oh my god...” Namjoon whispered, as he, Jungkook, Taehyung and Seokjin observed you gracefully taking to your feet like a swan gliding over calm waters.

“What do you mean ‘oh my god’ – is it the Jeon’s? Have they arrived?!” Yoongi spun around to face Namjoon, ready to bolt out the door to try and make as much ground away from the Manor as possible. But instead, he was met with something that – for once in his life, left him without words.

You felt ethereal – delicately untouchable, but viciously fragile all at once as you slowly steadied yourself on your own two feet. Instantaneously, you could hear and feel absolutely everything – from the wind that surged outside, to the leaves on the trees that surrounded the Manor as they danced and flicked in time with the gusts of air that moved them. You could hear cars in the distance, you could smell millions of new and wonderful scents that you had never had the pleasure of witnessing before; but most wonderfully of all, you could feel the life that was forming inside your womb, and it gave you the most beautiful form of courage of them all. You didn’t thirst – you had no pain; as if you had never been bitten at all. And more importantly, you felt such power being surged through your mind – as if your mind was a super-computer that was being subjected to the uploading and unlocking of vast amounts of information; as you continued to keep your eyes closed.

“(Y/N)...look at me...please...” Jungkook begged you silently, hardly having any strength to keep his own eyes open as all he wished to know was that you were okay, hoping with everything he had left that somehow; everything would turn out just fine. And just as if you had heard his plea, you opened your eyes...but to Jungkook’s dismay, the only one your gaze fell upon; was Yoongi.

“She...you’re alive?!” Yoongi whispered, not being able to tear his gaze off of your eyes that had seemingly changed to the colour of golden sand. “Her eyes are this colour? She should be natum lamia...her eyes should be blackened as she should be thirsty for her first feed...what’s happening?” Yoongi questioned himself, feeling rather nervous at your beautifully insidious stare that seemed to make him feel like his skin had just been set alight.

“What the fuck is going on? Did I do it?! I’ve succeeded! Look – Namjoon! I did it! See? I told you that all we had to do was wait...the book was right!” Yoongi let a smile unfold on his face, despite the secret fear that inhabited his instincts – as the book he had studied only seemed to possess some details of the situation.

Everyone remained deathly quiet – even Taehyung who still held Jimin throughout his last moments close to him. “Her eyes...she’s...she’s a Vampire – but she’s not quite like us...” Taehyung found himself almost transfixed by your presence.

“Fuck...she’s actually a Vampire now?” Namjoon uncouthly thought to himself as he watched you never take your stare off Yoongi; not exactly sure how to feel within himself. However, what came next was something that shocked everyone – as you opened your mouth to speak, after another strike of lightening and round of thunder filled the gaping silence.

“I’m here...Master”

And just as quickly as you had come back to life, with you addressing Yoongi as your master; Jungkook felt as if his soul had all but truly ceased to exist.

{...to be continued...}

2K notes · View notes

sleepyfan-blog · 7 years

Text

@gunplayreyes

here’s your thing

The two of them had gone to a hotel, paying in cash for two rooms and both of them in disguise. Shaun and Rebecca were out on a grocery run and would be sharing the other room. They were on the run – as they always seemed to be – from the Templars, dodging around large cities and when they had to use unencrypted phones, they used burner phones once to other numbers that were used a handful of times before being deactivated.

William was arguing with the front desk lady about something after he had paid for the room, so Desmond had trudged over to the room that matched the card and slid the keycard in the slot, waiting for it to beep and enter the room, closing it carefully behind him. He performed the standard checks that one did in a hotel room – that there were enough pillows and blankets, that the sheets were fully clean and that there were no listening devices or other technological bugs that might watch or listen to them, double-checking with his second sight. Desmond found it incredibly useful that his second sight did allow him to easily spot such things… And to his relief, there was nothing dangerous to them in the room.

There was a window in the room – large enough for the both of them to escape out of if necessary, and as they were on the third floor and there wasn’t an easy way to climb up there – if you weren’t an Assassin at least – it should be fairly safe. Desmond opened the window enough to breath in some of the fresh air, smiling a little as he looked at the charming little town that they were currently in. His left arm twinged a little and he rubbed the skin, glad that his arm had mostly healed from the damage that had been done when Juno had been released. Lying bitch had told him that his death would be instantaneous and painless. It had been neither, and though Desmond had tried not to scream in pain as the electric energy stabbed into his body, he was unable to stop himself. The memories of what had happened a few months ago started to remind him of what he had very nearly lost.

Desmond hadn’t expected was his father to appear out of nowhere and wrench him away from the eye, the Sword of Eden in hand as he struck Juno down just as her consciousness was about to escape the confines of the Temple. His father’s face had been twisted into a protective snarl as he struck her down, hissing “Did you really think I would sacrifice my son to you, you miserable phantom! Or that the others would not have a contingency plan in place, when you tried to escape? You have been manipulating humanity for far, far too long, and your shadowy reign dies here!”

Juno had screeched angrily and coughed, struggling against the blade, her eyes blazing with fury. She started to fade along the edges, but seemed to be still clinging to what little life she had left “And what of the world? Killing me dooms almost all of your people to a fiery death, and it will be on your shoulders William Miles. Your daughter was willing to sacrifice her life to save humanity as it is. I would be there to guide your squabbling, warring people to a greater unity. There is still a chance to save your people. Join her in death and I will survive.”

“You are wrong on a number of things. First and foremost you blind bitch, Desmond is my son and I am proud of all he has done. He… You have sacrificed much in order to save humanity, and this possibility was something that was only very recently found to be the best bet for humanity to survive and be free. Juno would not let you leave the Temple once you entered, which is why we didn’t tell you. That and… Finding the Sword of Eden proved to be difficult. I… I didn’t want to raise your hopes up falsely, son. The world is safe, it is you who will die this day. The Reign of the Precursors has long since come to an end, and you are nothing but a dying shade.” William growled again, twisting the blade and activating it’s ability, forcing the lightening to pulse through Juno, causing her to scream and shatter into thousands of pieces of strange code. He was holding onto Desmond protectively, helping the younger Assassin stay on his feet.

As soon as the last fragments of Juno had vanished, William let the Sword drop to the floor, holding onto Desmond and pulling the other into a tight embrace. “I have been a shitty father, and a poor teacher. But I love you, Desmond. You… You wanted the freedom to fly and run as you pleased… Which is why I did not have the others pursue you as ardently as they could have, after you ran away. There is medical help beyond the door and I will make sure that both the Apple and the Sword will be hidden separately and well. You have done wonderfully, Desmond.”

Desmond knew he had been half-delirious from the pain, couldn’t help the broad grin that appeared on his face. The praise that his father had lavished upon him – and that his father had called him son and stood up to what fancied herself as a goddess to use his chosen pronouns… A small giggle escaped him. “You… You called me son… You… You love me…” He hugged the other back as best as he could, his left hand hurting more than he had ever thought it was possible for it to hurt.

“Of course. You are my son. I never said it enough, and that is a terrible failing on my part. But Desmond.” There was sternness in his father’s tone. Warning and a frown that meant that Desmond was In Trouble. “Do not die on me. Do you hear me? You are stronger than this. I believe in you. We found a way to overcome the Precursors, you will not succumb to their desire to have you dead.”

“… I’ll try, dad. It… It hurts so much.” Desmond responded, realizing that the blackness that had been at his fingertips of his left hand was starting to spread up his arm and he was suddenly so cold… Darkness was starting to eat at the edges of his sight as well, and panic seized him. Desmond had never been able to fully verbalize any of the reasons why he had run from the brotherhood. From his father. No one else was n the room, and as he was pretty sure that he was going to have to disobey Bill’s order about dying, he gave into the impulse that he had been fighting against at different points since his dad had come crashing back into his life. He leaned in closer to William and went up on his tip-toes and kissed the other on his lips. They were alone and as he was probably going to die anyways, he wanted to taste the person he had been fantasizing about since he was fifteen.

“I… I love you too. Jus’ … Not the way that I’m supposed to.” He whispered after the brief kiss, pulling away from his visibly startled father. “… Sorry…” With that, Desmond could not fight the darkness eating at the edges of his vision anymore and passed out in his father’s arms.

Desmond had woken up, of course. In something that looked very much like a hospital room. In a sense, it had been, but it wasn’t from a recognized hospital, but rather the medical ward of one of the few permanent Assassin Bases in Europe. They had flown him in from Italy to wherever he was. He knew that from the helpful – and sarcastic – note that Shaun had left him at his bedside. His blades had been taken from him, but were next to the note on the bedside table. There was an IV attached to his uninjured arm – as well as an explanation as to what the hell was being put into his veins so that he didn’t rip the drip out as soon as he was aware enough to do so.

… Not that Desmond would have done that. Probably. But the precaution and the explanation had been nice. They had kept him bedridden for two weeks – and hadn’t put him in the animus once. Bill had been absent those two weeks, needing to put out metaphorical fires all over the world as the head honcho of the Brotherhood. But Desmond had seen Shaun and Rebecca almost every day, and Shaun had actually been nice to him… Which probably meant that the acerbic Brit had thought that he was at death’s door or something.

He had healed well, and after a couple of awkward and private conversations with his father once they had left the base the two of them had come to an agreement. They would… Explore Desmond’s… Desires for William, carefully. If either of them felt uncomfortable, both would back off, and Desmond would be the one to initiate things of a more intimate nature. Desmond was just glad that Bill hadn’t rejected the notion and locked him up in a mental facility and thrown away the key … Although the Templars probably would have found him sooner or later that way. The fact that his dad was willing to even consider indulging his illicit wants was… It was a marvel that Desmond was quietly grateful for. He just hoped it wasn’t because he had helped to save the world or anything like that as he didn’t want to push the physicality that he wanted from his father if Bill truly didn’t want it.

One train ride where Shaun and Rebecca had flown on ahead to set things up where they had a private sleeping car had served to show that Desmond’s dad was absolutely up for anything that he was, given that after Desmond had kissed Bill again and asked the other to fuck him, William had enthusiastically indulged him. Even with his increased healing ability, some of the marks that the older Assassin had left on him had only just healed by the time they had caught up with Shaun and Rebecca. Not that Desmond had minded wearing the hickeys that Bill had left on his neck.

“I thought that you were going to take a shower as soon as we got in.” Bill called out, waking Desmond from his daydreaming. There was a note of concern in the other’s voice as the older man walked over to him.

“Huh? Oh… I was but… It’s a nice view and I got lost in thought. My own thoughts, not one of the others’ this time.” Desmond responded, knowing that his father was worried about the Bleeding Effect. Whatever Juno had been attempting to do while slowly killing him, it seemed to have stripped Desmond of most of the Bleeding effect. Occasionally he did see people who were hundreds of years dead, or hear the voices of his ancestors’ loved ones… But it was much less often than it had been before he had nearly died.

“I hope those were happy memories you were thinking of. I was able to get Shaun and Rebecca’s room on the other side of the hotel from ours, so that we have privacy. The walls here are rather thin, but so long as we are quiet… If you like, we should be able to indulge in being alone in a room together for more than an hour or so.” Bill remarked, voice dipping into something close to a seductive purr.

Desmond shivered in anticipation, a small smile appearing on his face as he turned to face his dad and moving in closer to the other and pressing a kiss to the other’s lips, humming happily at that “I think they’ll be grateful for that as well… As I saw Rebecca grab a box of condoms and wave them at Shaun with a grin while we were at that convience store this morning. You should have seen the way Shaun flustered. It was really funny. But I saw them kissing a bit after that – not that they saw me.”

Bill scoffed a little and chuckled “I see. Unfortunately I need to check on a developing situation. A potential descended of Shay Cormac has been found by Abstergo and if they’re able to go through that man’s memories…”

“They… They’ll show his memories as a game, something worse than when they bastardized the memories of Mentor De Grandpere’s life. Neither one of them deserve that.” Desmond responded with a growl, an unhappy frown appearing on his face.

“… You know of who Cormac is… How?” William responded, a rather surprised expression appearing on his face.

“Haytham knew him, and I did see a couple of memories of him as Haytham. I found out more through Connor – he and Aveline found out what happened to the then New World brotherhoods and why when Cormac confronted the two of them after the revolution was over for a couple of years. They… They very nearly came to blows, but Connor looked too much like his father for Shay to be able to strike fatally. Not that he knew who Connor was to his grandmaster at that point.” Desmond explained quietly. “I… I’m gonna have a shower and then see if I want to go swimming. If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“I’ll tell you. Be safe Desmond.” Bill assured him, watching the younger man leave.

Hours found Desmond in his father’s lap, with the other’s fingers deep inside of him, twisting and teasing him as he moaned and gasped into Bill’s shoulder, shuddering at the pleasure that the other was sending through his body. “Ah! D-daddy! P-please! Ngh…I-it feels so g-good!”

“It’s supposed to, my son. I enjoy having my fingers so deep inside of you, the way you clench around me… And the sounds that you make, soft but oh so sweet… There’s a good boy. Let the pleasure take you.” William instructed, voice gentle but firm as he continued to move his fingers in and out of his son, pressing a kiss to the other’s lips.

Desmond continued to writhe and gasp in his father’s lap, his fingers dragging down the other’s back as he tried to keep himself from being too noisy “A-AH! D-dad… Ngh… P-Please!” He was trying to ask the other to fuck him, but every time he tried, more nonsense escaped him instead.

“You’re so wet for your daddy… Hmm… I’m quite flattered. You’re getting close to coming, aren’t you? Then again, I have been teasing you for some time. I’m glad that your stamina in this is improving wonderfully. Not that I mind making you come several times. You make the cutest noises and faces when you come. That’s it… Good boy… Do you want me to fuck you properly, or would you rather I take you with just my fingers?” Bill asked, continuing to tease his son, a playful smirk curling on his lips.

Desmond whimpered and gasped, wanting to plead for the other to fuck him properly, but every time he tried, Bill’s fngers would tease him and he would lose all sense of coherence “I… Daddy… Please! Nghaaah! Want… Want you… Please! Ah…. You’re… so hard… Do-Don’t you want to…?”

“Don’t I want to what, Desmond? Be specific, son.” William instructed with a wicked smirk on his face. His fingers continued to tease and move inside of Desmond, as he patiently waited for the other to respond.

“Fuck me! W-with your cock, d-daddy! Please!” The younger Assassin begged a bit louder than he had meant to, clapping one of his hands over his mouth, a worried expression appearing on his face. The walls of the hotel were concerningly thin, and while there wasn’t anyone in the adjoining rooms, Desmond could not say the same for the hallway.

“Shh, shh. You must remember to be quiet Desmond, but you have been so good so far. If that is what you want, I am happy to indulge you.” Bill purred, gently pushing Desmond away just far enough so that he could undo his belt and pants with one hand, pulling out his rock-hard cock. He had also pulled out a condom and a small bottle of lube from his pants with the hand that currently wasn’t inside of Desmond. He held out both things to the younger man, saying “Unless you’d rather I take my fingers from you, you will need to prepare me, as I do not want you to be sore. This is a reward, not a punishment after all.”

Desmond blushed a little, but nodded eagerly, moaning and nearly dropping both the condom and bottle of lube when bill teased his clit with his thumb. “Y-yes daddy!” He fumbled with the condom and lube for a bit, his father’s very gifted fingers distracting, but he managed to roll the condom onto the other’s cock and slick it up carefully – having remembered to put a bit of lube in the condom to make sure that it didn’t break. Both of them were clean, but neither of them wanted to deal with other potential consequences of their actions, either. Once the other’s cock was properly ready, Desmond scooted closer again, sitting up on his knees as his father’s fingers left him, moaning behind a hand as he slowly sank onto his father’s cock, shuddering and moaning in desire and delight.

“You are so gorgeous and handsome, son. And you feel incredible around me. Move when you are ready… Even though I want to flip us over and fuck you into the mattress, you have been such a good boy, as I promised, tonight is for you.” Bill praised again, pressing loving kisses to the other’s lips and face. This was far from the first time that they had been together, but with Desmond’s healing factor, the other would always be virgin-tight every time, which was one of the reasons why Bill was always very careful when stretching the other for him.

“T-thank you daddy!” Desmond responded with a bright grin, kissing the other back before steadying himself a little. After a couple of moments he put his hands on the other’s shoulders, shifted his knees a little and started to ride the other’s cock, moaning and gasping in time to the rhythm that he was keeping, moaning and gasping every time his father’s cock filled him up completely, a soft whine escaping him when his motions had the other’s cock nearly leaving him entirely.

A pleasurable haze of time later, the two of them had finished, showered and were in their bedclothes. Desmond was cuddled into his father’s chest, a small smile appearing on his face. “Thank you. tonight was wonderful.”

“You are welcome, and I thoroughly enjoyed tonight as well.” William responded back earnestly, brushing a finger along one of Desmond’s cheeks tenderly. “We need to sleep – we will have to head off early tomorrow. Cormac’s descendent is in one of three Abstergo facilities and Rebecca can hack into the closest one which will tell us for certain where they are. The closest facility is three days by car.”

“… We save the world and yet the Templars still continue on. But at least we don’t have to deal with Juno.” Desmond responded with a sigh, shaking his head.

“Yes, but the world continuing as it is… Is a good thing. The brotherhood will be able to overcome the Templars, and that… Newly acquired ability of yours should help us find the Pieces of Eden – if you want to go hunting for them. I won’t make you.” Bill responded quietly “… The templars won’t leave you alone, but if you don’t want to kill, I won’t force you to.”

“I… Thanks dad. I want to help the brotherhood. To continue fighting but I… I don’t think I can kill. I… I hesitate too much and that will get me killed. But I’m pretty good at getting people to talk to me. As a good bartender should be able to get his patrons to become chatty and sociable so that they’ll drink and stay longer.” Desmond responded, a determined expression appearing on his face.

“I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Desmond.” Bill responded. The two of them talked about nothing much for a little while longer before falling asleep.

#milescest #father/son incest #ac ficlet #ficlet #desmond lives au bc fuck ubisoft #pwp #all 3000+ words of this

2 notes · View notes

batwynn · 7 years

Text

Nine

#Sterek #post nogitsune #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #fanfic #unfinished #angst

175 notes · View notes

endlessdreamerdragon · 5 years

Text

Night of Shadows - Part 2

Author’s note: Story was originally written in 2011 only a few years after I started to really put my stuff out there on the internet and try new things. So the writing probably isn’t going to be all that polished.

Words written in << these >> indicate the use of telepathy

Story contains swearing and some references to adult themes. Read at your own discretion. Story takes place during a generations-long civil war.

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

A'rial sighed and gathered the remaining eggs, clutching the frightened Solaris to her to keep him as calm as possible as she left the makeshift nursery she'd set up in a forgotten command station. Her mind ran over all the possibilities about what would happen to Lam’eira when she found her, IF she found her, considering the habits of some Draimians and even Hamurians who chose to swallow their food whole, and even their enemies if they so chose to. She quickly dismissed these thoughts reminding herself she had more important things to take care of than what might have happened to her friend. Humming softly to the blue hatchling in her arms she made her way towards the docks, ignoring the curious or contemptuous looks she got from others for bringing younglings into an active combat zone but she didn't care. Something told her she NEEDED to get these ones out of this place, away from this planet. She wasn't sure what it was that drove her but it was an undeniable sense of urgency that she felt, far too strong to be mere emotion. Perhaps a warning from the ancestors even? She sighed again and resumed her search passing on a few of the eggs to pilots who were willing to take them on board though only to ones she sensed were trustworthy. Eventually she was down to just her one egg and the blue hatchling in her arms standing just near the bay doors for the loading dock. She looked down at the two precious little lives she held and nuzzled both in turn rumbling softly although it held a note of pain and sorrow as well. She looked up and scanned the area, a faint smile playing on her muzzle as she spotted a shuttle that appeared to be for the moment forgotten amidst the busyness of war. She quickly made her way over and slipped inside it the door hissing shut behind her as she placed Solaris down on the floor, taking out a specially made shell-basket and imprinting on the hatchling's subconscious mind that he was to take care of the egg until after it hatched. She carefully glanced through a side window checking to make sure no-one had noticed the shuttle was now occupied before gently placing her daughter's egg in the basket the padding ensuring nothing would rattle it around during transit out of the atmosphere. A low crooning sound caught in her throat as she moved to the front of the ship, punching in the instructions for what the ship was to do in case of an emergency but not the destination, only that it had to had signs of civilized life and a breathable atmosphere like Accolos. She slowly turned back towards the young male dragon nuzzling and rubbing affectionately, earning a few happy murrs at the attention not quite understanding the severity of the situation. A'rial then turned her focus on her daughter sighing quietly as she rubbed and caressed it gently unable to find the words to say. She knew she would never see the unhatched, and now tainted, dragoness grow up or find a mate one day or ever see her grandchildren much less hold and dote on them as any loving grandmother would. Sure, she would be there in spirit but it was like a stab-wound to the heart to know that would be the closest she would ever get. To be so close and yet never be able to touch. <Live long my daughter. Live your life to the fullest and whatever happens, fight for that which you hold dear. Never let it slip through your claws and always know that I love you> A lone tear trickled down the brown dragon's face stinging the scar that had formed over the claw marks on her muzzle left by that skraka Squad Leader. She smiled and without a word left the ship, the door hissing shut and locking behind her as its engine sequence started up as per her instructions. She'd set a delay though it wasn’t much. The docking clamps released the shuttle with a quiet hiss the engines engaging and beginning to drive it forward and upwards once it had breached the bay doors. Startled yells by a few dock workers caught the earth dragon's attention but it was in vain as she watched the ship rapidly ascending. The dock workers saw this and dismissed it, going back to their work. As far as they were concerned the ship was a target anyway so there was little point in chasing it, but they did give A'rial cold glares as she passed for sending one of their ships out into a battlefield especially when it was not designed to be adequately protected against the weapons of either a Draimian or Hamurian warship. She looked at them and shrugged almost imperceptivity, a haunted look in her eye as she made her way back down the halls checking the air for her friend's scent. The shuttle climbed higher and higher, the blue hatchling inside attaching the basket to the wall so it would be less likely to be bounced around. He chirped softly as he made his way to the back of the ship, the covers opening up to reveal a large view screen giving him a last detailed look at his home as it became steadily smaller and smaller. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered why the ships were fighting each other but his attention was drawn to something else peculiar. As he watched some of ships were oddly ceasing firing upon one another and were in fact now beginning to fly up as well towards the expanse of deeper space as if they had gotten some kind of warning something big were about to happen though he knew not what that was. A'rial brushed past people ignoring their looks as she picked up the scent of her friend, the foul scent of the drogs, the Hamurians... and the scent of blood. She instantly became worried as she quickly began following the trail a low growl coming from her throat as the scent suddenly became almost overwhelming leading her into a darkened room. The locking mechanism had been disabled, she presumed most likely by the expert Hamurians, and she forced the door open enough to slip inside, greeted by the sound of shallow breathing and the steady drip of blood onto the floor. She narrowed her eyes for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as she caught sight of a limp and mutilated body on the floor. She checked the pulse and as she gently turned its face to the light her heart stopped for a moment, the shock keeping her body frozen in place temporarily. "Lammy... by the ancestors what have they done to you?!" She looked over her friend's tortured body and growled deeply when she saw her nether regions had also been violated and mutilated most heavily. A'rial immediately pushed aside unbidden thoughts of what must have occurred and she clutched the older dragoness' body close to her chest, letting pent up tears run down her face and she almost breathlessly apologized to the Hamurian over and over. A low gasping came from her throat as she tried to breathe properly and A'rial then noticed her throat had also been torn extensively and in numerous places meaning the blue dragoness' death was only a matter of minutes away. "Mi eta ka bora, et'u mik'hala. Forgive me dear sister. I will see you in the stars tonight and maybe in the grip of eternity you can forgive me." She sighed again and let her broken heart pour out in what felt like hours as her best friend's breathing became more and more shallow and laboured, until eventually all that could be heard was the Draimian mourning over her fellow mother-kin and the steady sound of the Hamurian’s blood dripping onto the cold metal floor. After what seemed like an eternity, A'rial kissed her sister's cheek a final time getting to her feet and with the closing of the door the room became a tomb, the final resting place for one that had been with her since they were both newborn hatchlings. She walked away, her heart and spirit numb with pain and loss as she left the building walking out onto the streets of Arc'Duor ignoring the hustle of war and death around her, and even ignoring it as a deep rumbling tremor shook the ground beneath her instead focusing her slightly-glazed eyes up at the night sky beauty and pain mixed together her attention now drawn up to a white speck that was growing ever farther away a weary smile on her muzzle as she knew instinctively that it was the shuttle carrying her daughter on it, carrying her far away from the death-hole the planet had become. She sighed again as another tremor rocked the city, large cracks racing down the streets and screams of agony sounded behind her as geysers of searing hot gas enveloped a few unfortunate individuals their screams cut short almost as quickly their death almost instantaneous. She, however seemed oblivious to it all idly walking down the street in the general direction the shuttle was going even as more screams of the dying sounded around her, more and more cracks forming in the ground joining some together and widening others. A'rial smiled softly and stopped where she was, a knowing smile on her face as she continued to gaze up at the night sky and the fading light of the shuttles engines as it took her species, their species, last chances for survival deeper into space. She closed her eyes seeming to be at peace as if she knew what was coming <See you soon Lammy...> The noises around her faded out in that moment of peace, it was as if the ancestors themselves were taking her up with them so she never felt it as a crack formed beneath her paws and the superheated gas from the planet’s core enveloping and disintegrating her whole body, the process repeated over and over as the planet began to collapse in upon itself as a result of the generations of conflict and over-exploitation of the planet’s natural resources by both sides. Far away no one heard the pained mournful screeching of a young blue dragon old enough to know and yet too young to fully understand as he watched his home, his friends, his family all disappear; his whole world becoming nothing more than just another part of the empty void of space.

0 notes