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separatist-apologist · 2 years

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Last Young Renegade- Bonus Pollen

Summary: A war on the continent is looming. A Death God approaches, his curse slowly unravelling. A firebird screams through the night.

And Elain Archeron can see it all.

Read More: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | AO3

Chapter Summary: Deleted scene from the original plot in which someone spikes the wine at a party with sex pollen. Mostly NSFW, may spoil some of the later plot. Erina + Elucien

I will keep this linked in one-shots

“There you are,” Eris crooned, looping his arm through Elains as she all but jogged through the hall. “Are you headed towards the festivities?”

She tried to yank away but Eris held firm. “Not with you.”

“Nonsense. We are family, after all.”

There was no use arguing, not when Eris’s hand was holding her in place or when, technically, he was her brother in some form or fashion. Besides, Eris’s sharp eyes kept all the other males from looking at her too closely and after weeks of being nonstop ogled, Elain could admit it was nice to use Eris as a shield.

“Do you plan to participate today?” Eris asked conversationally. “I’ve heard it’s quite the spectacle.”

“Participate?”

“How poorly they inform you,” he chuckled, as if her ignorance was funny to him. “All the males compete to be crowned champion as part of their little games.”

“Games for what?”

“Independence,” Eris said dismissively. “This land was once controlled by a different sort of Faerie. Crueler, more powerful…Gunnar’s ancestors threw off the yolk of oppression and they remember every year with their little revels. This morning they’ll fight and this evening they’ll dance and at some point the whole thing devolves into fucking…or so I’m told.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet your were,” she grumbled as Eris grinned widely.

“I’m sure I won’t be the only one. You know, I thought the frenzy would last longer than a few days—”

“Maybe that’s your problem, Eris,” Elain interrupted sweetly. “You think about things you have no business wondering about. Imagine what you could accomplish if you spent less time thinking about what Lucien and I do in the privacy of our own bedroom.”

Eris chuckled. “I like you.”

The two entered the great hall, reassembled to look like a huge obstacle course—one designed, primarily, for battle. Males, the majority shirtless and coated in whorls of blue paint, stretched and sparred with each other, holding massive silver swords half as tall as her. Eris hesitated, eyes sweeping the room.

“What do you make of this place?” he asked after a moment. Elain was only half paying attention, her eyes on the lovely Hilda, already sitting on her iridescent throne practically dripping in glittering diamonds.

“She looks so miserable,” Elain murmured, noting the vacancy in her blue and green eyes.

Eris released Elain’s arm to ghost his hand over the middle of her back. “Her father sold her for pennies.”

Elain looked up at him, surprised Eris would offer her any information about this place. His own expression was muted—unreadable.

“That would make me miserable, too,” Elain murmured, wondering if Eris wasn’t speaking from some experience. She’d heard the story of Morrigan, of the evil, ugly Eris Vanserra who left her to die with a nailed note in her body. Elain thought, her hand reaching for the crook of his elbow all the same, that Eris wasn’t talking about himself as he watched.

“This place reeks of rot,” he finally said.

“How can you tell?”

“I’m the Lord of rot and ruin,” Eris murmured, eyes cutting towards her. “What do you think is lurking beneath the jeweled leaves of Autumn’s famed forests?”

“What are you truly doing here, Eris?”

A smile ghosted over his lips. “I’ve never fucked a female from the continent–”

“You’re so gross,” she complained, trying to pull away. Eris caught her, keeping her at his side as they watched, half hidden at the far end of the room.

“Oh, come on. Lighten up. Surely you didn’t think you’d bat your pretty little eyes and I’d spill my guts?”

Elain poked him hard in the ribs. “You’ll tell me everything before you go home and I won’t even have to ask.”

“Oh, I’m certain of it,” Eris agreed. “But not today. Today I just want to observe.”

“And tomorrow?”

Eris grinned. “I hope to be too sore to even get out of bed.”

She poked him again.

“Speaking of spending my day in bed…what do you know about Helion’s scholar?” Eris asked, catching sight of a golden dipped Arina swanning across the room. Every head turned as she walked, not that Arina noticed. Or cared. Eris was no better, watching with that same hungry stare.

“She doesn’t like you.”

“I’m serious. Helion doesn’t get involved…he likes to let Rhysand do his dirty work. Thesan, too. The solar courts are more united, fight less often. Tell me what you know.”

“Why would I help you?”

“I’ll owe you a favor?”

“I don’t need a favor,” Elain retorted. “And I don’t want Lucien’s father—”

“My father, too,” Eris reminded her without any of his usual amusement. “I wonder if any of us know what game we’re truly playing.”

“What does that mean?” she asked. Eris only shook his head.

“You’ll come to trust me, Elain. And when you do, I’ll still owe you that favor.”

Eris shooed Elain towards the ladies, sauntering off to torment some different lord, leaving Elain to join Arina on the outskirts of the revel.

“What did he want?” Arina asked, watching a very shirtless Gunnar stride into the room. The whole chamber grew quiet at the sight of his honed, muscular body covered in that same whorling blue. Only Hilda remained unmoved, as if she’d seen it all before and it hardly impressed her. Both Elain and Arina watched, a soft haze filtering over the ugliness of the upcoming competition.

This place reeks of rot.

Elain looked across the room to Eris, arms crossed over his black coat jacket. He was staring, too, his eyes hardly gloating. She knew what he was trying to say.

You sense it too.

Eris thought it rot but Elain considered it the pretty film of magic. Gunnar lifted a sword as he strode into that ring. The iridescent light that coated his skin, the air, her very eyes, shielding them all from the vicious display. Lucien often complained that everyone let Gunnar win when they played cards, that he was a poor loser. A spoiled king, was the all but stated words.

Not here, though. If there is magic to be had, it’s in the way Gunnar wields his blade, moving like silk in the air. Every inch of him seems to be born to do nothing else—he is forged of the very blood he draws, made of the dripping iron and howling cold.

Male after male came forward to challenge him, sword gripped in hand. Gunnar needed no crown to prove his mettle, required no proof he was lord of the land to take down his foes. Elain watched, after each defeat, how he looked to Hilda with the same hopeful eyes she’d seen too often on Lucien.

Do you see what I would do for you?

Hilda offered no praise—not in her body, or gaze, or lips. She might have been carved from the same stone that once hewed the mountains for all she seemed to care. Elain almost felt bad for Gunnar as the day wore on. He pushed through punishing task after task, always turning to his wife and always rebuffed. Perhaps he had humiliated her too many times for her approval now. Maybe once she’d been like the other gathered females, watching with heated interest, her body pulled in fascination. Even Elain couldn’t help the admiration she felt. He was beautiful. You’d have to be blind not to notice. Arina, too, had shifted, her gaze softened. What had once seemed predatory and menacing seemed approachable.

Safe.

Elain glanced over the room throughout the day, always finding Eris’s eyes. Always with that leveled stare, his lips flat with accusation. You’re falling for a trick, his body seemed to warn. Something in her mind, too. Something that continuously pulled her away from fully walking into the glimmer, the same feeling when her dreams were just a little too lifelike.

Lucien.

Lucien, off on his own, chatting casually with courtiers and lords like he had no care in the world. Lucien, in a coat so purple it was nearly black, the color offsetting the copper hues in his hair vibrantly. Every time Elain looked at him she saw something new, some little trick of the light bouncing off his cheekbones or his muscles shifting beneath the black of his pants that reminded her he was real. The room would clear, the walls spread back to their original place and sometimes Lucien would see her, offering a whisper of a smile.

Arina tugged at Elain when it was time to change. “They say this dance devolves into an orgy,” Arian told her as they walked from the hall, both of them shaking off a day of milling about watching men fight and climb and swim. “After midnight, when the children are asleep.

“I’ll be asleep too,” Elain replied, reaching for the staircase. Arina grinned.

“Well, I’ll be up.” And Elain wondered if she hadn’t decided on the king after all.

~*~

It took Lucien a moment, blinking as he was, to realize the music hadn’t abruptly cut. There were still revelers, dancing and twirling and smiling. People still milled about tables piled high with food and wine, still sat on settees and reclined against iridescent walls. They were still talking, voices a low hum beneath the strings of the music thudding in his veins, the chandelier still pouring soft fae light into the massive, arched space.

Only—maybe it had all vanished and he was standing among the heavens because Elain had stepped in draped in plunging, clinging gold and robbed him of air. Tumbling curls fell over bare shoulders, dark eyes framed by even darker, longer lashes and Lucien was certain she was not real. He’d merely imagined her and any moment she would shimmer into nothing.

He needed her to dance with Gunnar. He’d had it planned all day, had kept his distance specifically so the king might sidle up, might think her more willing than she was. Now, standing across the room, Lucien only felt hotly burning jealousy. Gunnar wasn’t anywhere here, was talking to his absurdly beautiful wife who was, somehow, not even the most beautiful female in the room. Elain outshone everyone and if Hilda wanted to compete, she had to settle for bronze. Arina, shimmying in beside Elain in that vibrant Day Court white, made one of the violinist's bow slip loudly. How was it, he wondered, to be so outshone by these foreign females in a place you out to have held dominion? Lucien turned, gulping down his cup of wine before setting to the table so he could pour twin glasses for Elain and Arina. It gave him a reason to go talk to them, to sweep Elain up at least once before he unleashed her on Gunnar.

She was a prize and every male in the room knew it. Stunning, sweet, and mated. Elain radiated pure, hazy sunlight—softer than the warmth pooling at Arina’s feet and draped about her skin like a cloak. If Arina was the midday sun then Elain was radiating dawn. Lucien all but sauntered to them, pushing the cup into Elain’s hand.

“You look nice,” he lied. Nice was all wrong—Elain was ethereal, his every fantasy come to life. She beamed before pressing red lips to the glass. Lucien’s whole body tightened at the sight, earning an irritated look from Arina who gratefully did not comment on the scent he knew must be rolling off him. Elain might trust the Day Court princess but Lucien didn’t—not yet, at any rate. Not when his brother was watching her so hawkishly, caught up in the rivalry that had always existed between their courts. Lucien didn’t trust Arina to keep Elain safe if it came between Helion and Lucien’s mate.

“I was hoping you’d let Gunnar dance with you,” he murmured, hand trailing down her back. Little pearl buttons lined against her spine, creating the most delicious friction against his palm. He needed to get himself together. Lucien took another long, slow drink to try and steady himself.

“Why?”

“Because he wants you,” Lucien replied. “And I’m getting nowhere with him. I want to see the border but he’s suspicious of me. Maybe you could work a little of your magic?”

Elain’s eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, her fingers brushing over the back of his hands. “And what magic is that?” Lucien licked his lips. How did he even begin to explain? “You’re doing it right now.”

She pressed just a little closer, hand pressed against his chest. “I’m just looking at you.”

He almost called the whole thing off. Lucien almost pulled her into his own arms so he could dance her silly and stupid, could let everyone else watch her twirl in his grasp. Jealous. And in his mind, he didn’t gloat though his eyes told everyone watching what they all knew—she’s mine.

It was hard to pretend, even as Elain offered him one last dazzling smile before slipping away, finishing her drink and leaving the cup with a serving fae. He could only watch, eyes trained on the slight sway of her hips. Gunnar had noticed too, giving up on seducing his own frigid, angry wife. She was in a mood and Lucien could guess why. Rumors abound that he’d been caught with the Vallahan emissary the night before who just so happened to be some sort of relation, though that might have been just a vicious court rumor. He’d embarrassed her and now she would shun him, for all it deterred anyone. She didn't want to leash her ladies and as a result, none of them respected her.

Elain was caught in Gunnar’s easy grasp with a friendly smile. Game on.

“You’re letting him touch her?” Eris asked when Lucien went back to the table, his body warm from all the liquor. Eris held his own glass between two fingers, his expression one of supreme boredom. “Say the word and I’ll cut off his hands.”

“Since when do you care who touches Elain?”

Eris glanced over at Lucien before swirling his cup absently. He threw it back like a shot, shuddering at whatever it was he tasted. “She doesn’t belong here with the monsters, Lucien.”

“Sure she does,” he replied with just an edge in his voice. What did Eris know about Elain or where she belonged? She wanted to be here, dancing with the King of Rask. She could have been his consort for how fluidly she moved, how utterly regal she seemed. Elain, whether she thought so or not, had been born to be High Fae. Maybe even a King’s wife, had she not been paired up with him. Lucien could see it all so clearly, how powerful men would fall to their knees just for a kind word from her lips.

Mine.

“She doesn’t,” Eris grumbled, looking into his empty cup. “If we were smart, we’d leave tomorrow.”

“Then go.” Lucien’s words were a dismissal. He didn’t want to have this conversation with his brother, not when he was watching Elain laugh, head tossed back so the tips of her hair brushed against the soft swell of her ass. Lucien had always been attracted to Elain but tonight felt different. He was needy, achy. The mere sight of her hands sliding up Gunnar’s shoulder, as if he were the most fascinating male in the world, was doing something strange to him. It wasn’t jealousy—not exactly, anyway. It was desire. Watching her was enough to ignite a flame in his stomach, raw, rabid lust shooting into his cock. Eris was watching with the same lurid fascination, as if he’d never seen two people dance before.

Gunnar dropped his face, blonde curls spilling over his forehead and Elain arched into the touch, letting his lips brush over her cheek. Lucien imagined what it would be like to touch her like that, to drag his tongue over her skin and taste the sweet, musky salt of her body—

“Oh fuck,” Eris snarled, slamming his cup to the table behind them. Lucien’s attention snapped to his brother, catching the rough smell of arousal…not just from Eris, but everywhere. He’d been so busy staring at Elain that he hadn’t noticed a pair grinding against each other a mere ten feet away from him and Eris, pulling at each other’s clothes with talons and teeth.

“They spiked the fucking wine,” Eris swore.

It should have alarmed him, given Gunnar had Elain flush against him, his hand sliding down her back. Her eyes were heavy lidded, body pliant beneath the Kings touch. Lucien thought to join them, perhaps. Or maybe he’d—

Eris strolled across the room, all but dragging Elain out of Gunnar’s embrace. She was laughing, nearly tipping to the ground. Only Eris, his hand firm against her arm, kept her on her feet. Lucien trotted just behind, unsure what to say. “Eris,” she was giggling, shoving futilely against Eris’s grasp. “I was having fun.”

“You were about five steps from falling to your knees,” he grumbled.

“I would never,” she protested, twisting in Eris’s grasp to look at Lucien. “Tell him. We have never—”

“Yes, Elain, why don’t you scream it a little louder,” Eris interrupted. “I am well aware of what’s happening between you two.”

Eris all but shoved Elain into Lucien’s grasp at the foot of the stairs.

“Take her to your room and bolt the fucking door. No orgies.”

Lucien frowned before hauling Elain up over his shoulder. “Wait! Eris, wait–!”

He paused, the tension in his body practically rippling beneath his skin. “Find Arina. Don’t let them…she’ll be so upset in the morning.” Eris’s eyes darkened. “Done.”

Eris vanished before Lucien could remind his brother that her regret would extend to him, unable to do much more than suppress the groan building in his chest. Elain’s breasts were squashed against his shoulders, the scent of her arousal practically in his nose. It was effort, dumping her on their shared bed before turning back for the door to bolt it. He did the sliding door, too while Elain giggled on the bed, kicking off her shoes.

“How long is this going to last?” she asked him breathlessly and fuck if Lucien remembered. The last time he’d had wine like this he’d been practically a boy running amok in the Forest House. It had been one of his older brothers to lace their drink during Autumn Equinox and their mother had been irate, silent tears streaming down her face the next morning. At the time, Lucien had assumed she was embarrassed by how they’d defiled the forest but now…he knew she’d hated how the wine made her want her husband, how she’d all but crawled in Beron’s lap that night.

“Hours,” he panted, back pressed against the closet door. “Until the wine is out of our system.”

Elain’s eyes were blown out, so dark he could practically see his reflection. It wasn’t like her nightmares—there was bright light just behind, making her seem particularly mischievous.

“If you lock the closet—”

“Why would I do that?” she murmured, kicking off her shoes. “I like you where you are.”

He exhaled hard. “You’re not thinking clearly–”

“Or maybe I’m thinking clearly for the first time since we met,” she replied, rising from the bed like his every fantasy come to life. Lusty bedroom eyes beckoned him before she turned, sweeping her hair with one fluid motion to the side. “Will you at least help me out of this dress?”

“And into what?” he whispered, his fingers already undoing her buttons. Inch by inch, Lucien began barring her tanned skin, his fingers trailing over her smooth body.

“You could help me into bed?” she suggested when he’d finished. She held the front of the dress against her breasts, pulling her arms from the sleeves before she let it pool entirely at her feet. Elain was all but naked beneath, her body hidden in a matching pair of pink, lacy underthings she presumably wore because she liked them and not because she imagined he might see. Lucien’s knees shook at the sight.

She slid into bed with all the grace of a practiced seductress. “Elain, I—” Her eyes silenced him. His mate.

“You’ll regret it in the morning,” he managed, his fingers reaching for the silver buttons on his jacket.

“I don’t think so,” she murmured appreciatively when he pushed the offending cloth from his shoulders, letting it join her dress on the floor. “Shirt, Lucien.”

“You want to see me with my clothes off?” It was meant to sound suggestive–flirty. It came out sound awed, breathless.

“Yes,” she agreed. And so off when his shirt, and then his boots, until all that was left were his pants and his aching, raging cock just behind. His blood pulsed in time with his heart, thick and heavy, urging him to do something about his aching need.

He crawled up the bed, both terrified and desperate, so certain he’d screw this whole thing up. And Elain, pliant and warm and wonderful Elain, let him guide her back to the mattress. “I’ve only done this once before,” she told him, eyes dark and wide.

“I’m not fucking you,” he breathed, running his nose over the hollow of her neck. “Not yet, anyway. If I only have this one night…” If he only had one night and the magic of the wine laced with aphrodisiac, Lucien intended to make the best of it. He wanted everything, wanted her to remember his hands and mouth just as surely as she’d remember his cock.

“If you only…oh…” she whispered as his mouth replaced his nose, kissing softly against her neck. It was supposed to be this way…but it wasn’t. Elain’s hips flew off the bed, grinding against him and Lucien’s last little thread of control shredded to dust. Maybe, if she ever let him touch her again, he’d give a slow, sweet seduction. The sort that would take hours to finish, the kind where she’d tremble from just a featherlight touch. The wine urged them to take, to do something about the burning desire they both were writhing beneath. Lucien pushed his cock against her, groaning at the heat he felt radiating between the cloth separating them. Lucien needed to taste her, needed to put her pussy on his face. He reached, her mouth sliding against his own and Lucien was utterly lost, awash in the taste of the wine still bright against her tongue, the heady honeyed smell of her mingled with the musky sweetness of her arousal.

Fingers threaded through his hair, tugging at his careful braid until the strands cascaded around them. Elain moaned, unsatisfied with his scalp. He pushed against her, desperate for relief when those same nails dragged over the skin of his back, sliding into the band of his pants to grasp at his ass and push him harder, to all but forced them together, over and over until they’d created a bruising pace, grinding their half naked, sweat slicked bodies against the other. Nothing had ever felt better in his entire life than kissing her with all the pent up passion he’d been forced to swallow those last five years, her body rolling rhythmically beneath him. She was going to come—Lucien could feel how she trembled, how she was seeking more friction, was gasping into his mouth, her eyes rolling backwards. He might have pulled away had the sight not been so intoxicating. Let her, he decided just a moment before she came apart, grinding so hard against his pants he could feel the wet soaking against his cock.

Only then did Lucien find some semblance of strength, peeling himself off her. Elain watched, breasts jiggling with each new breath, practically spilling from that lace ensemble. “Did I buy you that?”

“Yes,” she whispered, running her hands over the skimpy fabric. Lucien let himself admire her for one more moment, dressed in the underthings he’d purchased for her.

“Take it off,” he ordered, rubbing his own erection through the wet stain of his pants. Elain arched her back, reaching for the clasp in the back, sending his eyes rolling back into his head. Elain tossed them to the side, eyes daring him to tell her to keep going.

“Touch,” he managed, his voice hoarse. She did, her hands reaching for the soft swells, fingers tugging at the rosy tipped peaks.

“And the rest.”

“What about you?” she demanded softly, breath hitching in her throat. Lucien stepped forward, gesturing at his pants.

“Come look at what a mess you made.”

Elain rose to her knees with a curved, wicked smile. “You know,” she began as she rested the most perfect ass Lucien had ever seen on the heels of her feet. “The ladies of court have discussed quite loudly what they’d do if they were to ever get their hands on the laces of your pants.”

He was only half listening, drunk on her gentle tugs, a mere moment from freeing him into her hands. “They talk of all sorts of terribly wicked things.”

“Like?”

Elain reached, squeezing her soft hand around his shaft. It was with nothing but pure, masculine pride to see her fingers unable to touch, at the stripe of untouched skin where she couldn’t quite grasp him.

“I wasn’t aware you could use your mouth,” she said, lowering her face so her lips touched the crown of his cock, her breath fanning over the sensitive skin. Elain looked up through thick lashes with her fuck me eyes and Lucien realized she knew exactly what she was doing.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?”

He threaded his fingers in her hair, nodding desperately as her petal soft mouth linked the length of him, tongue swirling against the head. Hollowed cheeks swallowed a third of his shaft into her throat with relative ease for someone who claimed to be unpracticed. Lucien groaned, using his hand to guide her head.

“That’s it,” he praised. “My pretty girl.”

Elain hummed her approval, squirming with pleasure. He needed to eat her. “Elain,” he tried but she was rubbing her tongue in time with the movements just beneath the tip of his head and oh, Gods, he’d come if she did that. “Get on your back.”

She released him with a wet pop of her mouth, the sound so obscene he could have died. “Is something wrong?”

“I haven’t eaten tonight,” Lucien all but growled when she did as he asked though she was all wrong. Her legs hung over the bed and Lucien very much was not done feeling her silky tongue caress him.

“I’m starving, Elain.”

He turned her, spilling her lovely hair against the edge of the bed as he came towards her. He could feel the strands brush against the hair of his leg. He reveled in it, cock in hand as he rubbed it over her swollen lips. “Take your clothes off.”

Elain scrambled from her underwear, balling it into a wad and throwing it to the end of bed. The noise that escaped him was hardly elegant–the desperate keen made her smile. She wiggled a little before her knees fell open, draped over the bed like the most tempting offering he’d ever seen.

Carefully, Lucien slid his cock back into her mouth, all but bruising the back of her throat. Elain pressed at his thighs, telling him when she’d had enough. “Good, that’s good,” he praised, spreading his legs wide so he could control the angle of his thrusts even as he hovered over her. “I’m going to fuck your mouth with my cock while I fuck your cunt with my tongue. Would you like that?”

She whimpered, swallowing him down when he moved his hips and fuck Lucien was already too close, too desperate. It was all he could do but grab her by the legs and bury his face between her thighs, taking that first needy taste of her. It was meant to be a teasing lick, his tongue slow as he worked up the length of her. Elain practically sobbed with pleasure, the rumbling vibration of her moan settling in his sac. Lucien was trying to control his hips, to resist the urge to slam into her throat and make her take all of him whether she wanted to or not. Instead, he distracted himself from the wet slide of her mouth and her perfect little tongue by spreading her wide open with his thumb.

He’d never get over the slight of her gleaming, trembling pink cunt, still swollen from when she’d come against his clothed erection. Elain ground against him, inadvertently taking more of his cock with the new angle of her body. They moaned in time, Lucien taking every inch he could get before he gave up, once again, trying to draw her out.

“Make a mess of my face,” he ordered, speaking the words against her clit before he did as promised. She whined, choking softly when a little more of his length pushed against the back of her throat. He could feel her working to breathe even as she kept her lips wrapped tight, sucking in air before he slid back in, over and over.

Lucien was let wild need take over, feasting on her pussy like it was the finest meal he’d ever had. It was easy enough to figure what she liked, to slide his tongue as far into her tight heat as he could before dragging it up her middle and swirling over her clit for a hot, wet kiss. Elain bucked and writhed, covering him in her slick arousal. If he was close, so was she. She could feel her shaking legs clenched tight around his face.

She hit at his thighs, not to tell him to stop but in warning. Elain screamed when his lips closed once again around that swollen nub of flesh, dragging him into climax with her. Lucien poured himself down her throat, grunting with each thrust of his hips.

Lucien pulled his still aching cock from her mouth if only to crawl over her, to pull her back to the bed. “You want more.”

It wasn’t a question. He knew she did because he did, too. Elain, panting and flushed, her lips bright red from swallowing his cock, watched him with those dark, lust stained eyes. “Say it,” he ordered, if only to give himself something to fantasize about when she inevitably decided they’d made a terrible mistake.

“I want more,” she said, her voice clear—strong.

“You want my cock,” he continued, pushing apart her legs, taking himself in hand. “You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, licking her lips as Lucien dragged the head of his aching arousal up her slick cunt, teasing her clit until he, too, was practically panting. Lucien all but fell over her, his hand closing around her neck.

“There will be no one else,” he whispered against her jaw.

“Regardless of what happens in the morning. There will only be me, only be you.”

She looked up at him, fingers grazing his stubbled jaw. “Mate.”

He hadn’t meant to thrust into her the way he did. It was as if she’d pulled a string and Lucien had merely obeyed the command. Elain gasped, her whole body tensing and too late, Lucien remembered what she’d said at the beginning. Only once before. When she’d been human, about to be married. Lucien slanted his mouth over hers in apology, holding himself utterly still despite the wild flame demanding he claim her. Lucien kissed, tongue stroking her own, until she relaxed against him, her rigid body warming, her fingers sliding up over his back.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised, kissing her cheek, her neck, behind her ear. “You take my cock so well.”

Elain arched, letting him suck one of her nipples into his mouth and lavish it with the same sweet praise. Sweet, pretty mate, he through, trading one breast for the other until she began to whine, lifting and wiggling with need. Lucien was coming apart, the seams that held him together slowly unraveling. Elain, with her tight, perfect pussy and her soft, warm body that conformed to his every contour. Lucien couldn’t be slow, couldn’t be nice, couldn’t give her the slow seduction he’d once dreamt of when they were newly mated and he’d been sure she’d come around if he only gave her time.

Driving need pushed Lucien to thrust back into her, withdrawing to the tip only to push back. Elain met him savagely, lifting her hips to grind against him. He wasn’t the only one who was working out whatever was happening, whatever had been happening. “Five fucking years,” Lucien growled against her neck, sucking the skin until she yelped. He soothed the little hurt with his tongue. “You’ve denied me this sweet pussy for five fucking years.” She kissed him, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip. “You’ll fuck me when I say you can,” she whispered when blood flooded into his mouth.

Lucien had never been harder in his life. He put his hand back around her throat. “You’re a fucking brat.”

Elain’s eyes found him. “Your fucking brat.”

His balls tightened painfully, forcing him to squeeze his ass to keep from pouring himself into her. She was so fucking sexy, so utterly stunning. He was losing his mind. “Come on my cock, Elain. I want to fuck you again.”

She moaned, grinding against his body until she’d found that sweet spot. Elain broke with a scream he all but sucked from her throat, strangling it with the press of his fingers to her windpipe. Climax couldn’t have come a moment too soon. Lucien all but burrowed himself in her cunt, spilling every last drop of come into her body.

“Oh, my Gods,” Elain whispered, throwing her head back against the pillow. Lucien knew why. He kissed her mouth.

“Again?”

She nodded. “Please.

3.5 [Eris bonus pollen]

Find Arina. Eris stalked through the palace, trying to ignore the scent of arousal burning in his nose. When he’d hoped for a devolving orgy, he’d hoped for consent, if nothing else. Everyone was mindless with need, hardly caring who touched who or if they even liked each other. For some pairs, like his idiot brother and giggling Elain, Eris thought it was likely to work out.

For him, though?

Eris stopped in the throne room. There she was in that clingy white dress, her back bared save for a thin line of chains draped against her skin. Arina wasn’t Autumn Court–she was pure Day and Eris knew the reputation of Helions court. She clearly had no compunction with reaching for the first person she saw—some pretty little strawberry blonde, tits already bared. Eris halted, ignoring the way his control was fraying.

Arina wasn’t just Elain’s friend or Helions scholar or emissary or lover or whatever she fucking was. Arina was his mate. The snap had been brutal, near violent in its intensity and since he’d felt it, Eris had been merely ignoring her. He didn’t know if she’d felt it too, though he’d seen her eyes on him often enough.

Unlike Elain and Lucien, who were fun to taunt, Eris avoided Arina entirely. No conversation, no traded barbs. Nothing that might make someone look at her twice, that might cause them to think she was a tool that could be used against him. Until that moment, Eris had made peace with sending her back to Helion, to maybe seeing her again in two or three centuries when Beron was dead and he’d brought Autumn to heel.

That was before he watched his mate drag her tongue over the other female’s neck. She wasn’t looking at whoever she touched—Arina was looking at him. Eris’s lips parted and some small part of him wanted to be difficult. He wanted to turn entirely and leave her there. Let her see how little he cared.

But fuck she was so gorgeous. He had an excuse, he told himself. If he fucked the Day Court scholar under the influence of an aphrodisiac, Beron would hardly care. No one would think twice about it. She was there, he was there…this other fucking female he ever much wanted to get rid of was there.

“Are you going to just watch?” she taunted as he approached. Eris cracked his neck as if he wasn’t being ridden hard with lust.

“Maybe. I see this shit every day.”

Arina shrugged, reaching for the broached clasps on her shoulders. With one easy tug, she removed every stitch of clothing. Eris nearly knelt before her. She was glorious, all soft bronze skin and lush curves. “Every day?” she challenged, turning her backside to him to go back to her quivering female. Eris grabbed her around her middle, keeping her from sinking to the floor and burying her face into cunt.

“I don’t think so,” he whispered, grinding his hips against her ass. She gasped at what she felt, his painful, aching erection sliding over her bare skin, leashed only by the laces of his pants.

“Jealous?” she taunted breathlessly.

“Desperately,” he agreed, hauling her into his arms, limbs flailing, to take her out of that throne room. He’d be damned if anyone looked at her perfect body but him.

“Is this the kind of male you are?” she asked when he tossed her on his bed. She looked good there, spayed out among his immaculate sheets. “Possessive?”

“To a fault,” he agreed, reaching for the buttons on his jacket. She all but crawled to the edge of the bed, blonde hair falling around her perfect face. “I don’t want your lips on anyone but me.” Her arousal was sweet in the air, driving him insane as he peeled himself from his clothes. Arina merely watched and he wondered how often she called the shots. Maybe Day Court males liked being bossed around.

Eris fucking didn’t. Not when he had so little control anywhere else in his life. Not when he knew his mate would yield, would trust him. No one trusted him. Eris walked to the bed, erection bobbing between his legs. Forest green eyes looked at nothing else, head cocked as she drank him in. He let her for one anxious moment. It was a terrifying thing.

Do you like me?

Arina’s eyes found us, a smile curved over her mouth. “Who knew the sons of High Lords were so well equipped?” His hand shot forward, wrapping itself in her long, silken hair. “Get on your knees, Arina.”

Defiance flared in her eyes. “Or what?”

“I’ll make you,” he replied coolly. “We both know what you want.” She let him tug her from the bed. “And what’s that?” Using her hair as a leash, Eris dragged her flush against him until he was nestled in the cradle of her thighs. Their eyes met, breath mingled in the inch of air between them. “You want to please your mate.”

She sucked in a breath. “You feel it?”

For one stupid moment, Eris nearly pulled her into his grasp and held her against him. Maybe if he’d only been overcome with his usual lust he could have slowed himself down, could have reassured her of his terrible–yet honorable–intentions.

“I feel it,” was all Eris could manage as he pushed her to her knees.

“Open your mouth.”

There was no hesitation when she looked up at him. No fear. Even the females in his own court couldn’t quite manage that. Oh, they tried. They wiggled and teased and did everything he asked but he saw the flicker of uncertainty if he was just a little too rough, a little too bossy.

Beron.

Arina blazing defiance, her unguarded trust made his legs shake even as he pushed his cock against her firmly closed lips. “Open your mouth,” he ordered again, praying to the Mother above she wouldn’t.

Let me show you what we could have.

“Make–” she didn’t get to finish that bratty fucking sentence. Eris pushed past her teeth, hissing at the scrape before he had himself in her throat. She gagged, a tear slipping over her cheek. He thumbed it away, tilting her head, stuffed to the gills with his cock, and smiled. “You’re so fucking sexy like this.” He had practically no control, dragging himself a mere inch out before plunging back in. She gagged loudly, eyes flooded. Eris exhaled a breath. “I wish you could see how well you swallow me.”

He had no intention of finishing this way—at least, not the first time. Eris wanted to watch his come drip out of her pussy, wanted to see it stain the sheets beneath them. He was merely jealous she was going to put her perfect mouth on one of Gunnar’s worthless courtiers. It was an absurd thing to expect her to be like Elain—chaste to a fucking fault, likely upstairs crying all over Lucien’s chest while he politely divested her of her virginity. Eris liked Arina’s experience, liked the sheer faerieness of her.

And he was jealous, all the same. Jealous of everyone she’d ever opened her mouth for, jealous of every cock that had ever spread her legs.

Eris withdrew himself when her face was a mess of mascara and lipstick. “Fuck,” he breathed, hauling her to her feet for a bruising kiss. She tasted like him—like his salt, his musk, mingled against her own citrusy sweet scent. Eris swallowed it down, tongue chasing that taste as he walked her back to the bed. “How do you like to be fucked?” he moaned, hand sliding between her legs. She was dripping, her thighs practically coated in her slick arousal. Eris brought his fingers to his mouth to taste.

Arina crawled on the bed, burying her face into the mass of silken pillows and Eris thought he might be in love. Her round, curved ass wiggled in the air, cunt presented in all its gleaming, wet glory. Eris came up behind her, sliding his hand over her cheek before slapping hard. “Is this what you like?”

She whimpered, turning her head to look. Eris slapped again and again, until her skin was ruddy and imprinted with his hand. He liked the look of it. Maybe, he thought as he lowered his chest to the bed, he’d cover that pretty body of hers in come, too.

“What are you—”

“I’m hungry, Arina,” he interrupted, pushing her legs further apart.

“Let me eat in peace.”

She whined, the sound music to his cock. Pretty, pretty mate, he thought with delight, sliding his tongue up the center of her. His fingers hadn’t done her justice, had barely scratched the surface of the heady arousal now branded in his mouth. Eris knew he’d never get that taste from the back of his throat. It was worth it, though he knew it would be torture to go back to pretending she was nothing, to have this one little moment with her. To know what was waiting if he was patient enough, careful enough.

Arina was responsive, grinding her cunt against his face to get what she needed. He wasn’t going to give it to her—she’d come on his cock and only his cock. At least this time, at least. Perhaps if there was another stolen moment where he could risk being drenched in her cunt and he wasn’t under the influence of laced wine. He’d lay her out and have her properly, would make love to her and tell her he thought her beautiful—and whatever else he felt, assuming he felt anything at all. He only knew what he could see, was too afraid to learn anything else about her. Anything that could be pulled from his mind and used against him. It wasn’t just Beron constantly trying to hurt him. Rhysand was always digging in his brain for secrets. He’d seen what they done with Elain to keep Lucien docile. What was stopping Night from asking to borrow Arina for a century or two?

“Eris,” she whispered, bringing him back to the task at hand. He was offering her slow, languid licks. Working her up without letting her crest any further. Teasing was good, he reasoned, dipping his tongue as deeply as he could before withdrawing. Arina all but sobbed for relief but Eris didn’t offer her an ounce of mercy. He wanted to hear her beg, was rewarded when his lips closed around her clit, sucking softly.

“Eris, please!” she pleaded near- incoherently. He removed his mouth entirely, slamming himself to the hilt into her soaking cunt. His rolls backed into his head at the tight stretch of her body, of the way she immediately came, the walls of her pussy convulsing around him, sucking him in. He hadn’t been prepared for that. His fingers curled against her hips, bruising her flawless skin. Eris felt like a unseasoned male all over again, fucking his very first female. He could have come from her climax alone, was already bruisingly on edge.

He slapped her ass, enjoying her breathless yelp. “You come when I say you can.”

She pushed against him, ass flush against his abdomen. “Come for me, mate,” she whispered instead, squeezing around him until Eris had his head thrown back in ecstasy. He needed more, had to wrap his hand back in her thick, golden hair and pull her back so he could kiss her.

“It’s not the fucking wine,” he growled against her throat. “This is us. Say it.”

“This is us,” she whined before he captured her mouth in a bruising kiss. Eris came, pouring more than just come into his mate. He pressed his forehead against her sweaty back, kissing and licking as his hips bucked. He couldn’t stop, even after he’d poured out, using his own emission as lubrication.

“I’m going to come for you,” she whispered when he got her on her back. She reached for his face, caressing his cheek. Eris leaned down and kissed her, wondering if the tightness in his chest wasn’t arousal at all. Wondered if he wasn’t, impossibly, in love with this female.

“I hope you do.”

#this was originally part of chapter 3 if you can believe it #anyway #LYR deleted scene #collectors edition #sorry im making you wait so long on chapter 5 #i swear im trying

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silver-blooded-synthetics · 1 year

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@lorraine-widow-jackson-st-oc asked:

I have a few questions for Errol in Stranger Things Au based on our interactions.

1. Was there anyone in particular you were attracted too before you met Lorraine? Or was Lorraine your first ever crush?

2. In school when you were little what was your favorite subject and what was your least favorite subject?

3. While you were at the lab as an orderly were there specific orderlies that would target you or was it all of them?

4. If your mother came back to life how would you react?

Was there anyone in particular you were attracted too before you met Lorraine? Or was Lorraine your first ever crush?

“There were other people I was attracted to before I met Lorraine. I just never really pursued those crushes. Or at least, never got the chance for it to lead anywhere... When I was a teen, there was a nurse at the lab that I took a liking to. It developed into a sort of crush, but, admittedly, when I found out she thought it was endearing and I could use it to my advantage, it turned more into me just manipulating her more than anything. But then Papa found out she was giving me special treatment and I was punished pretty severely while she was fired. After the lab, I did meet a few people here and there in Hawkins that I found attractive, but nothing really worth pursuing. Not until Lorraine.”

In school when you were little what was your favorite subject and what was your least favorite subject?

“Art and music were always favorites, but I also really enjoyed reading time. Even after Papa caged me in the lab, I was at least allowed a decent education, so English and literature were some of my favorite subjects to study. My least favorite subject...? I mean, I’ve always liked learning, but I have to admit, math and geography were a little harder for me to master. Physical education could be brutal too if it was just mind numbing exercises with no purpose. I liked being active and going out and doing things like hiking, or swimming, or some sports. But if it was just running laps and doing pushups, I hated it.”

While you were at the lab as an orderly were there specific orderlies that would target you or was it all of them?

“It was sort of all of them in general. I mean, if Papa told them to punish me, they did, no questions asked. Some were crueler than others though, I’ll admit. Some of them would even go further than enforcing Papa’s orders and would find any excuse to 'punish’ me, even for the most trivial of things. Usually this happened after they found out I was originally an experiment, not just another orderly. Once they got access to my files, they’re attitudes about me almost always changed and they saw me as a monster. An animal in a cage that they could torment, because Papa would turn a blind eye as long as they didn’t take it too far. They could get away with treating me a lot worse than they would ever even think to treat another employee. And because I wasn’t an active experiment subject like the children, as long as the children themselves didn’t see, I was fair game to mistreat. They didn’t have to play Papa’s game and manipulate me like the children, because they knew that I was already aware of the true nature of the lab.”

If your mother came back to life how would you react?

“By killing her again. And I would make sure she stayed dead.”

#answered ask #oc errol #stranger things au

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percontaion-points · 8 months

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The Chemist chapter 22

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 22

She hit the [send] button. Things couldn’t get that much worse, anyway.

I mean, Daniel could be dead. So don’t say that it couldn’t get worse, because they 100% can.

“Was that a drug deal, then?”

[...]

“You think he’ll tell someone about us?”

On a list of people that could and would be questioned about Julie/Kevin/Daniel, the college kid selling dope on the street corner is not going to be of much interest to the government. I doubt that he’d even flag their system as a possible witness.

She supposed it was inevitable, the way they’d been carrying on, that given a quiet place far away, for the moment, from any danger, with just the two of them together and no interruptions, there would be nothing to keep them apart any longer.

Again, I’m not exactly seeing anything romantic in their relationship. Julie is coming from three years of forced isolation and no more contact than necessary with other humans. Of course she’s touch starved!

And I’ve kept saying this, but Daniel is suffering from a combination of the aftereffects of torture plus some form of Stockholm Syndrome.

Both of those things mixed with their constant near-death experiences are pushing them together. I’m willing to bet that once the danger has resolved by the end of the story, their attraction towards one another will wane, and they’ll break up. It’s not exactly like they have much in common besides shared trauma.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “I love you.”

Even if you ignore EVERYTHING that I said about how wrong that their relationship is, they’ve still known each other for barely a week at this point. Slow down there, champ.

Happiness with a deadline, just like she’d thought before. Only the happiness was greater now. And the deadline was crueler.

Chapter 22 summary: They stop for more gas and to stock up on food without incident. Then Julie goes into a 24-hour internet cafe to finally send the email. As she’s walking back to the car, she sees a drug deal going down. So she goes over and asks for drugs; she assures Daniel that a drug dealer would likely not rat her out.

They continue on to the cabin, where they both collapse in bed for a few hours. When Julie wakes up, she looks around some and showers; in the process, she determines that it’s been a while since anybody was there.

She goes back to the bed where Daniel is still asleep, but she can’t stop thinking about what the future might hold for either of them. Daniel wakes up, randomly confesses his love for her, and they start making out.

Mercifully, Kevin calls and cockblocks them once again. He says that although Julie sent the email, it only forced the guy he was watching to start moving more “underground”. Going into somebody else’s office to make calls, etc. The email only told him that he was being watched, and kind of had the opposite effect. Regardless, we’re in the endgame here, and they can’t exactly throw in the towel. He asks that they come to DC. He also gives them the address of a dog boarding place in Georgia, and a story for Julie to tell as to why Lola is shot in the leg.

In the garage, Julie is excited to see a SUV that are a dime-a-dozen on the road. Bland, boring SUV with Virginia plates. Nobody will see them coming. Daniel is sceptical about stealing from old family friends, so Julie promises that they’ll return the car if they’re alive to do so. Besides, they’re leaving Humvee, which is worth way more than the SUV. They then force themselves to sleep during the day, so that they can head out for Georgia around 2 AM.

#the chemist #chapter 22 #spy thriller #new adult #contemporary fiction #romance novels

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hearties-circus · 2 years

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I swear if my family doesn't get groceries in soon

#gamer txt.#ive already been goin through the punishment phantom hunger if theres actually little to no snacks and just fucking bread ill cry #yknow cause its the anniversary n all and its nearly easter ive been thinking about what that easter was like #and ive remembered how my mum reacted to the way i ate my easter eggs #(very quickly. not too fast so i didnt get sick and so i had could still have some for the next few days but very fast)#and she just started going off on me for 'unnecessarily' eating so much when even i recognised it made me feel sick #and yknow that could mean one of two things #1. she genuinely didnt realise that starving me would lead to agonising hunger that i understandably wanted to stop #or 2. shes crueler than i once thought #and to be completely honest i cant really tell which is more likely #i just i just i dont understand why she thought that was ok to do #the punishments impacted more than just my eating habits too #i dont like having to spend prolonged periods of time in the living room with my family bc it feels like when i was forced to stay there #i mean i didn't like that to begin with that whole situation just made it alot worse #i cant bear to do any outside physical labour for my family either and i know i know it wont exhaust me like it did back then #i know it wont make me nearly collapse but i cant. it feels far too risky #ive gotten better with people coming into the kitchen when im in there but i still need to check who it is or ill panic #getting food still feels a bit like stealing to be honest i cant let people see me with food i cant let them know i have it #it just. did alot ill say that #made the whole 'eating is a normal and essential thing for people to do' alot more difficult than it needed to be #i guess I'm just a little upset right now #i mean thats much better than i could (and have been known to) be fairing i suppose #food m

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thatbangtanbloom · 2 years

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unspoken || 4

teaser | 1 | 2 | 3| 4

characters: kim namjoon, kim seokjin, min yoongi, jung hoseok, park jimin, kim taehyung, jeon jungkook, reader

pairings: ot7 x fem! reader

categories: angst, fluff, suggestive situations

genre: idol!bts, idol!reader, yandere!bts

warnings: mention of violence, blood, manipulation by the boys, sasaengs, reader thinks she did a bad thing (death) but does not

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this chapter provides a bit more context about the reader’s relationship with taehyung/jimin and also her bandmates!

・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

The recurring thought of you not being safe continues to torment your mind throughout album negotiations, photo shoot scheduling, and clothes fitting. You could not stop think about the look in the saeaengs- you refuse to believe that you were face to face with Lee Jinhyeon who singlehandedly tried to take your debut away from you after rejecting him - eyes as he urged you to speak with him. His normally chocolate eyes were an iridescent brown, showcasing his crueler intentions had you not managed to call the police first. It ran like a blur, trying to usher all the girls into the room and locking the door as Jinhyeon pounded on it like a mad man.

The way he screamed your name sent a chill down your side. When the two of you were close friends during your trainee years, you never thought he would hurt you. You never could fathom he would be the one to terrorize you just two years later…

Your hands continued to shake.

The sudden sound of your phone ringing makes you shake away your thoughts. Mentally exhausted from today’s events, your fellow members slept soundly in their bunk beds. Only Yoorin sleeps in the same bed with you; her arms wrapped securely around your waist as she sleeps. She seemed to take Jinhyeon’s presence harder than you do.

You smile lightly at her. Before Taehyung ever paid you any mind, Yoorin always was there to look after you. Despite being only a couple months apart, she took on the role as your support. She was the best friend anyone could ask for — her only arguable flaw would be her supreme disdain from Taehyung.

Shaking your thoughts away, your phone buzzes to life with ‘Jjiminie🤍’ scrawled across the screen. You smile to yourself. He had made it a habit to always call you just before bed so that he could be the last one you would talk to at night. Sliding your index finger across the screen, you answer with a smile.

“You answered,” Jimin murmurs on the other line. His Busan satoori paints his sentences, “I was hoping you would.. we didn’t have much time to talk.”

“We didn’t,” You affirm as you shift on the bed and sigh. “I’m sorry for being so cold earlier… I was just in my head and I’ve been so stressed.. That wasn’t like me.” You hate how you ramble, but Jimin doesn’t mind. “I will do better-“

“No, I’m not what matters right now. It’s you.” Jimin whispers softly to soothe your worries. It’s as though his voice alone makes your worries dissipate away. “It just hurt me so much to think that there wasn’t anything that I could do for you. You looked so scared and fragile. You’re never like that.” You suck on your bottom lip. You exhale a breath you had not realize you were holding in. “Yeah....” “It made me realize.. there’s so much more of you that I’ve yet to discover.” Jimin’s words spill over as he settles down on his bed in the dorm. The other boys were quiet as mice following what happened this morning at your dorm. It was suffocating Jimin. Jimin volunteered himself to be your caregiver whenever you needed it. At music shows when your promotional schedules overlapped courtesy of BigHit’s attempt to highlight the label, he slipped pick me up messages into your palm when he walked past swiftly enough so no one would notice. Once, he even managed to send you a playful wink when your group greeted his own to make you choke on your words. Jimin sits back as he listens to your labored breathing on the other line. He can only think of what it would feel like to have you cradled into his side. His fingers would trail small hearts over the apple of your shoulder and kiss the top of your head. “That should have never happened to you... it makes me sick to my stomach to think anyone would try to trap you like that.” The bitter irony of his words go over his head and your heart aches. “It’s in the past now, Jimin... I’m just glad no one got hurt.... I’m okay too.” Jimin’s smile grows lopsided. He was happy you gave him the reassurance he needed to understand that you were okay. “Can I come over? I know it’s risky but I can promise I won’t get caught.”

You know what he means. Your girls have only ever seen Taehyung come over — to surprise you on your birthday and your first win — and he left little to the imagination. But even so, your shared room with Yoorin. Would Jimin spend the night? Where would he sleep? You never thought to look too much into it, but it was as though Taehyung left his mark on every aspect of your life.. almost as though he wanted the world to know the two of you were together. You had no qualms about his love for you but it proved to be harder to hide from the company. Moreover, it complicated the relationship dynamic when you did your best to share your time equally with all seven of them.

“I know you’re hesitating and you can tell me if you do not want me to come and see you.” Jimin adds gently as he hears your silence on the other line. He wonders if you hesitate with Taehyung — had Taehyung even given you the option to ?

“No, no… you can come… we all share rooms.. that’s what I was thinking.” You reply as you glance at the many luggage.

Jimin would never waste a moment of not being with you. He doesn’t even hesitate to respond, “I’ll be there.”

Jimin hangs up on the other line before you could murmur your affirmation of endearment and you sigh.

You unwrap Yoorin’s arms that were around your waist and climb out of her bed. You wanted to look somewhat presentable for Jimin since he was coming to see you. Your Line Friends Ryan pajamas that Namjoon had bought you hung snug around your frame and you smile at the thought of your other boyfriend.

Your smile drops as you begin your skincare routine. Had Jungkook been right about you not spending your time equally with the others? You did your best to spend as much time with them as your time allowed — between live streams, practice, photo shoots, contact negotiations, and brand deals — you were either on the phone with them or cuddled up beside one of them… when was the last time you had spent free one with your members?

Just as you finish your skincare routine, your phone buzzes to life. No doubt it is informing you of Jimin’s arrival and you quickly pull on a pair of old sweatpants - likely Seokjin’s - and jog downstairs to the first floor to be greeted by Jimin waiting.

“You got here fast.” You laugh softly as you quickly sign Jimin in and thank the security. You’re hyper aware of the security recognizes the blonde-haired male or if the company would learn.

“I ran here, actually.” Jimin laughs softly. “I couldn’t help not wasting a minute.” He says as he steps onto the elevator besides you.

Jimin’s eye smile is enough to send butterflies rippling through your stomach. One of the more ambitious of your boyfriends, Jimin never failed to have you wrapped around his finger. You honestly think that you would run away with him if you asked him. It was not as though Jimin would ever ask you to do that.

Only, Jimin would. It was precisely that thought that crossed his mind that enticed him. Although it was unspoken, the competition between the seven of them seemed to only grow more fierce with each passing day. Something snapped — they snapped — and the thought of sharing you proved to be more difficult than initially anticipated.

“Jimin?” You ask, a bit confused when you step off the elevator and grab his hand. Your warmth transfers from you to him and Jimin grows weak in the knees. His legs are like jelly as he stumbles in a very un-Jimin fashion. “It looks like I lost you there for a second.”

“I was lost in you.” Jimin speaks as though his words are paint brushes against a canvas; you. You who is so enticing.. the one that he blooms for. His toothy grin grows when he notices your cheeks tinting pink. “Have you fallen for me?”

“You know I’m in love with you, Jimin.” You tease as you put in the pin code to the front door. You don’t catch how Jimin mentally remembers it. Who knows what he would need it for?

Your affirmation burns desire in the pit of Jimin’s stomach and he practically presses his entire body against yours. He is much more swift than you are, his limbs easily guiding you against the back of the door and his thumb brushes against your bottom lip with desire.

“How in love with me are you?” Jimin asks as his eyes stare back into yours. “Tell me how much you love me.” His voice rasps in your ear. His lips capture yours before you can respond. His left hand cups the under side of your jaw while the right trails down the curves of your body. It takes everything in him not to pull down the joggers right then and there... but Jimin could be patient. For you. Jimin tastes like honey in your mouth. His plump lips nearly consume you whole as his hand leaves your hip to press his entire body deeper against you and force you against the door. God -- you were everything that he cold ever imagine. He wonders how he ever manages to go a day without his lips wrapped around yours and his hands brushing the flower between your thighs.

”I need you,” his voice drops a lower octave and his words slur. He sounds drunk without any alcohol. It is clear that he’s intoxicated from just your taste. His normally hickory brown eyes tint cobalt black. “YN..?” Your eyes turn from his intense ones to glare behind him. How could you explain to any of your members why you were kissing Jimin if it was so obvious that you were with Taehyung? The thought crosses your mind that it is necessary to tell them about your six other boyfriends…but the worry swallows you whole and ultimately stops you from thinking of anything else.

Jimin remains stagnant as he pulls back slightly to observe you. It was almost as though you were not actually there, but rather a ghost of you. What exactly were you thinking about?

The fragility of your state reminded you of your more formative, vulnerable years as a trainee. You were born, bred, meant to be an idol. You followed the schedules no matter how grueling they were, partook in any diet and exercise that they asked of you, and molded yourself to become the ideal form of whatever they wanted. You only had your ambitions besides the small luggage of clothing on your back.

Your trainee life was black and white. Everything remained simple and dimly lit until the day you crossed paths with your charismatic senior, Kim Taehyung. You could still remember that day in 2015 when you crossed paths with him while waiting for water. He was taller than you then, just as much as he is now, and the sweetest box smile you had ever seen. You were aware of how idiosyncratic was, how that was his charm to make everyone love him. You were no different in admiring him, but you knew better than to become involved with a senior when you only were a year (of what you did not know would be five) of training.

“You’re trainee #146?” He greets you with a small smile on his lips. His head tilting slightly to the side as he observes you. He knew your name was LN YN, that you had a brief stint of dancing in high school, and that lyrics were your specialty. Of course, he could not spill how much he knew about you.

He had to keep you guessing.

Surprised he knows your number, you stand a bit straighter. “Yes.. LN YN, sunbae.” You bow deeply to him in response. “

“YN.” He smiles slowly and nods. “That’s pretty.”

Another memory with Taehyung ricochets through your thoughts.

“I had not known you could move like that,” Taehyung’s whisper kisses your ear as he stands beside you at the convenience store. It was well past midnight, actually nearing 2 in the morning, when Taehyung called you out of your dorm for a midnight walk. Unaware of what this meant between the two of you - the more frequent visits, his volunteering more to oversee the monthly trainee evaluation whenever your slot was up, “I was impressed.”

You blush, glancing down at your glove. Taehyung had left his back at the dorm in the rush to see you and you offered to share the only pair that you brought with you to Seoul. “Really? That means a lot hearing it from you, sunbae.”

You do not notice the slight wince that escapes Taehyung’s lips. “You don’t have to be so formal with me. We’re friends, right?” He cracks the egg into the sizzling ramen in front of you and tosses the eggshell remnants into the trash. “Call me Tae.”

“Okay.. Tae..” you admit sheepishly as you look up at him. The mask hangs loosely off his ears, a measly attempt to mask his identity.

“Let’s sit outside.” Taehyung suggests with a smile as he opens the door for you and lets you walk out first. You wonder if he realizes how cold it is, but you shake the thought away. You had never had anyone show this much attention to you ever. Why pass it up?

“How did you find this place?” You ask after he guides you to a bench near the basketball court. Only the lights from the hoop illuminates the night besides the streetlights.

Taehyung’s heart rattled as he looks at you. For the last few months, he knew you awoke such strong emotions in him that he could not let subside. He fought with the idea of not approaching you, afraid you would be one of those trainees who were overzealous or stuck to the book… but somehow he always kept running back to you.

Even now, with your cheeks tinted ever so slightly from the cold and the roundness of your cheeks from a bite of ramen, he struggles not to kiss you. You awake something primitive in him.

The utterance of his name from you shakes him away from his thoughts. He had to control himself. “Ah… I met one of my friends here after he got cut from the debut list… it’s close by but also discreet at this time.” He explains leaning over to take a bigger slurp of his ramen. “I come here to think sometimes… I came here a lot last year, especially.” He explains sincerely as he thinks back to how much the team struggled since it had already been over a year since they debuted with no wins and low album sales. He was thankful to the loyal ARMY who stayed with them and joined along the way, but he still felt anxious. He experienced that a lot lately, what with being so far from home and being so close with his family… but that worry dissipated when he was with you. You reminded him of home.

Your welcoming smile, the way you pretended not to notice when his knee brushed against yours, your change of habit to meet him near the water fountain in a discreet manner. Surely you were interested in him the same way you were.

He could not fathom letting that go to waste. You were meant to be his and no one else’s. That much was very simple.

“I didn’t know,” You respond with soft eyes. “This place must be really special to you.” You look at him and smile. Your smile sets a flame in his heart.

“I wanted to bring you here too.. I think we are close now, almost as much as my members and me.” His words come up before he can stop them. Shit — was he confessing? But as he looks at you, looking at him with the same gentle eyes he’s always loved… he can not stop himself. “I hope we can be closer in the future.”

You found yourself so absorbed in his words that you had not notice how he had placed his chopsticks down to hold your hand in his lap. You could feel a million warning signs about the future of your career, what it would mean for you debuting… you did not know how much longer it would be until your debut… “I.. I hope so to.” You whisper, squeezing his hand back with a smile.

In so many words, Taehyung had not asked you to become his girlfriend.. but he had taken it as such. He called you out more frequently, but not enough to make either the trainee director or his manager suspicious. They chalked it up to Taehyung’s eccentric behavior.

Another year would pass before Taehyung would muster up the courage to ask you out. 2016 proved to be an even more rewarding year for BTS - short tour stunts across the Asian continent coupled with more success… your life could not prove to be more grueling — more trainees added to the list and more being cut by the day. Taehyung was aware of this and knew that you needed to be dependent on him to make things work. He wanted to know every bit about you before you would become his. He owes you this much, to know your strengths and weaknesses, what you desire in a partner, and how he could become everything you needed.

He shows up to every monthly evaluation with the same stoic look. He feigns a blank face in front of you when you perform. He acts as though he does not know you for two reasons: to ensure no one would know of your little arrangement and teach you what it feel like to live life without him. You thank him with a bitter smile when he asks you to come out that same night despite knowing how exhausted you were.

He wanted to break you. But he wanted to piece you back together, too.

He knew that you would never be able to reject him on his birthday, so after performing at MBC Gayo… he immediately makes his way towards the familiar convenience store just after midnight with hopes you would be there waiting for him. He understood how full both of your schedules were.. how your anxieties were beginning to pile up… but for one night, he hopes that he could be the difference.

He practically runs out of the dorms to the nearby basketball court accompanied by the all-too-familiar convenience store. Seeing you in your usual attire of sweatpants and oversized leather jacket (it actually was his, but he gave it to you) makes his heart grow warm.

Yet when he moves closer, his mouth falls open in surprise. The small cake that sits in your lap with candles already lit makes him realize he chose wisely. How many other girls would have surprised him like this? No one. Only you. He had to have you.

You sing the same happy birthday song that his members would sing to him later that day, but to him? It is as though you prepared that song for him and him alone. “Happy birthday to you~ happy birthday dear Taehyungie..” you remember how much he liked to be called that. “Happy birthday to you! Now make a wish!”

Taehyung wishes for the two of you to be together forever. You to be together always. He also briefly wishes to for no one to ever be the reason the two of you part. And with his last thoughts, he thinks not of a wish but a vow that he will punish anyone who attempts otherwise. ・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

don’t be a silent reader! please leave your comments, questions, and thoughts :)

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probablytenderjourneys · 3 years

Text

Jude and Cardan headcanons, taking place during and after Jude's abduction, part 2

After finishing discussing with Orlagh and her people, Cardan watches them go away, the hatred evident in his black eyes. Even Nicasia, who he once loved, brings a wave of sickness that threatens to overcome him. How could she?

Cardan tries to move in a dignified way, to maintain and strengthen his reputation as a King in front of Madoc and the rest of their convoy. It is only when he reaches the entrance to the Palace that he quickens his pace, almost running down the halls, towards Jude's chambers. He feared that when he saw her again, frail and broken, he would take her in his arms and never let her go again. So what if I do? After being tormented by the thought of Jude dead, why should it matter if I finally allow myself to show her what she truly means to me?

He reaches her door and opens it so hurriedly, words half spilling out of his mouth before he even enters the room, only to find the Bomb, and no one else sitting on Jude's bed. 'I came to see her too, says the Bomb, but she isn't here. They took her to Madoc's estate.' Cardan does not say anything, giving the Bomb a tight lipped half smile and a curt nod before swiftly exiting the room, and walking defeated back to his own chambers. He would allow her a day to recover, and if she wasn't brought back to the Palace, he could go to the General's house and demand to see his... his what? Was him seeing his seneschal more important than a father watching over his sick daughter? But he didn't only want to see his seneschal, he wanted to see his commander, his advisor, his mortal, his friend, his Jude. His Jude. He didn't want to see her for what she was to the kingdom but for what she was to him and him alone. Yes, he would go visit the next day.

The next day, he went to see Jude and was quickly dismissed; she's sleeping, and she can't be woken up, they said and because they couldn't lie, he turned around and had a very lonely trip back to the Palace. He'll try again tomorrow, he told himself, but in his heart opened a black hole that felt like it was swallowing him whole.

When he got drunk, and tried to distract his mind with courtiers draped over him, he found that that their touch on his skin felt like he was being burned alive. He sent everyone out of his rooms, got in bed all alone and fell asleep. His dreams, or nightmares, were haunted by Jude. Always Jude.

His attempts to visit Jude were failing miserably; she wasn't well enough yet, or she wasn't awake, or they feared she contacted a mortal disease, or Madoc ordered no one be allowed in his house without caring whether it was the king himself knocking at his front door. But how could Cardan argue when he believed that Madoc was truly worried for Jude's safety?

The High King of Elfhame spent most of his days the same way he did as a child; lonely, fear creeping in his bones and a need to lash out at anyone who came within 2 metres of him. He was miserable, the thought that Jude might simply not wish to see him settling in his mind. Maybe being abducted and tortured was where she drew the line; she simply did not want anything else to do with his court, with politics, with anything. Hell, maybe she'd even go back to the mortal world. Leaving him alone, alone, alone, always so alone.

Turns out, his fears were merely the twisted thoughts of a scared boy. Jude did come back, creeping in his chambers like the little spy she was, hand over his mouth, frightening him in his own bed. As soon as he noticed it was her, he relaxed, hand going to her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Where before there was roundness, the toned muscles of a warrior, the firm yet welcoming softness of her mortal body, now he could feel the sharpness of her bones. Frowning, he pulled her in his bed, noticing her laboured breathing. He could not say anything; he who had his wits with him at all times, him with his cruel mouth and even crueler remarks, was speechless looking at her. He touched a finger to her high cheeckbones, and was none the more surprised by their sharpness. It hurt to look at her, to touch her, to think of what she endured, to think of Balekin tormenting her as he once tormented Cardan. What did he do to you? he wanted to ask but found he was too scared to find the answer. Did she hope and hope someone would come for her unitl she dared to hope no more and accepted that she might be forgotten? As if he could ever forget her, erase her from his mind and his heart and his being. As if there could ever be a life without Jude in it.

He soon learned what Madoc's true intentions were and he was so furious he wanted to break the redcap's skull, although he was aware it would be quite impossible. He wasn't even sure if he was more mad at Madoc, for daring to manipulate himself as the King's new advisor, or with himself for not seeing right through Madoc's idiotic plans? He started talking without thinking, and soon safely guarded truth after safely guarded truth spilled out of his mouth, as if out of the depths of his soul. It pained him to see how his vulnerability made Jude look so insecure in what to do and say, realising that she wasn't expecting him to be anything other than cruel.

He was half happy, half angry when the Roach and the Bomb interrupted them. Nonetheless, it was good to see Jude straightening her spine and falling back into her usual demeanor. He wanted to pick her up and spin her around, because this Jude was his favourite- the real Jude, the one who, even when frightened, and weak, could mouth off anyone, roll her eyes and make everyone around her feel small and powerless. Frightening Jude was the one he loved best. And it was good to have some sense of normality back in his life.

#jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude and cardan #jude's abduction #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #balekin greenbriar #orlagh #nicasia #madoc #cardan's pov #jurdan #jurdan fic #jude and cardan headcanons

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bitch-biblioklept · 3 years

Text

The Darkling x f!oc

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 <you are here> Part 7

Chapter-6: Amplifiers

Chapter Summary: Frustrated with Alina's lack of improvement, the Darkling finally found a way to use her powers for his thirst for revenge.

Word Count: 2.1k

(My gif)

The Darkling knew what he had to do, and went to the bitter old woman his mother had become to inform her of such. He still cared about her opinion, no matter how old he’d grown… even if it had bothered him a lot. She wouldn’t react, most likely.

“I have decided to give Alina an amplifier,” He declared once inside the heat of her hut by the lake. “Hopefully we will find the stag.”

Her head snapped in his direction at the mention of the stag. Her dark eyes looked livid. “Of course,” she muttered, half to herself. “I was a fool for thinking for a second that you’d let her have it.”

“The girl is naïve, she can’t control her powers.” He explained. “She will do better with that.”

“I’m not going to let you take control of her powers.” She said with the certainty of a decision. “I know what you are planning to do.”

“How would you?” The Darkling asked, his lips set in a sneer.

“I gave birth to you, boy.” Baghra said. “I know you better than you think I do. She wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“But she isn’t here to stop me now, is she?” Aleksander said. The lump in his throat was suddenly too much. The lakeshore was a bloodbath again. Baghra was silent for too long. “Well?”

“She isn’t,” His mother agreed slowly. “But the least you could do is honor her memory, her mannerisms.”

“She wasn’t a saint mother,” He reminded. “By all means she was the viler and crueler one of the two of us.”

“Not to someone who hadn’t wronged her,” Baghra added.

“I shall avenge her, whether you like it or not, mother.” The Darkling said. He still had a vague memory of the last time he had addressed her as such. Aleksander had been too distraught, everything had happened just so fast… there was no time to tell if it had been reality or a nightmare. Serephina had been assassinated, found lying with her throat slashed, there were others too, her attackers, only one of them was barely breathing by the time he had gotten there.

That was the first time he had used the Cut in the Little Palace grounds, the first time all the young Grisha realized why everyone was so afraid of him. It was the first time his mother looked terrified.

They were supposed to be happy, it was supposed to be a celebrations filled night. But like Serephina used to say in her Suli sayings, some had jinxed their joy. They were to be a family, they were to become parents.

But all of that had been taken away because he was the Darkling and she was Lady Kirigan, and not Aleksander and Serephina.

A light knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts.

Alina appeared in the doorway a second later, looking awkward on finding she interrupted their conversation. “Sorry,” she said.

“In girl, don’t let the heat out.” Baghra declared instead.

The Darkling bowed as a show of courtesy. “How are you Alina?” he asked to be polite.

“I’m fine,” Her voice sounded forced.

“She’s fine!” hooted Baghra. “She’s fine! She cannot light a hallway, but she’s fine.”

The Darkling had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at her words. “Leave her be,” he said instead.

The old woman narrowed her dark eyes at him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she decided.

He ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to alleviate his frustrations. This was not going well. He turned to Alina. “Baghra has her own way of doing things.” He explained to stop himself from snapping at his mother at the moment.

“Don’t patronize me, boy!” she screamed at him. For a second, he was eighteen again, afraid of his mother’s wrath upon finding about his and Serephina’s marriage, and stood up straighter.

He stopped himself in time, remembering he wasn’t the same boy he had been then, not anymore. “Don’t chide me, old woman,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

There was an intense stare down between the two of them, the tension so thick it could have been sensed even by a donkey. That was until Baghra turned to Alina and said, “The boy thinks to get you an amplifier. What do you think of that, girl?”

He watched as Alina’s face brightened with a smile as if she had heard the most brilliant idea. And for a second, a brief moment, she reminded him of Serephina again, with the curve of her smile and the way her eyes crinkled with joy.

“I think it’s brilliant!” She nearly squealed. And the similarity was gone. Alina was not Serephina, and the differences got more evident as he got to know her better. Serephina’s face had always had a cold mask, much like himself, but he knew how to read her, where to look for in those brown eyes to find the answers. She was a book meant to be read just by him, and him only. Alina’s face was an open book left for everyone to read.

Baghra let out a disgusted sound, and the sound inspired an odd sense of pride in him. Alina was right where he needed her to be.

“Alina, have you ever heard of Morozova’s herd?” he asked.

“Of course she has. She’s also heard of unicorns and the Shu Han dragons,” Baghra said mockingly. If this woman wasn’t his mother, he would have kicked her out by now, but alas.

The Darkling took Alina out of the hut instead, wanting to have one conversation where Baghra didn’t interrupt him at every utterance that came out of his mouth. Though he was aware that she was keeping an eye on everything he was going to do.

“That woman,” he muttered to himself, running his hands all over his face. Then he ran his hands through his hair again, but this time to get the embarrassing image of him hiding behind Serephina to be safe of the rage Juris had upon finding out about the wedding.

“What?” he asked; half-embarrassed by the humor on Alina’s face.

“I’ve just never seen you so … ruffled.” She said.

“Baghra has that effect on people.”

“Was she your teacher, too?”

She was. Of course she was, she was his mother. But she wasn’t just a mother or teacher, she had been through a lot with him, suffered as bad as he had. Perhaps she was the only person alive who would bother to understand Aleksander and not the Darkling. “Yes,” he said in its place. “So what do you know about Morozova’s herd?”

Again she talked about how she had heard children’s stories. Again he told her what he wanted her to, making a passing remark about forgetting how new she was to all this. He was keenly aware of the raven-like gaze Baghra kept on both of them, but he ignored it. Again he was nice to Alina, listening to her talk by the lakeshore when the image of the bloodbath resurfaced. He turned his thoughts to less painful things like how things would have been different had Serephina been here.

After a while, he had had enough and he left. He was desperate for a glass of kvas, or even better, a glass of strong whiskey. The memories wouldn’t just stop invading his head.

So he focused on the night he thought Serephina was going to die.

It was a cold night after a snowstorm, a village in central Ravka that had once been free of the abomination of creation that most people called the Shadow Fold or the Unsea. They had stopped by the village while they were on their way to Fjerda.

There was a pack of large wolves tormenting the villagers, and they had warned them against going out at night. But Serephina had wanted to see them, the wolves. She said something was calling out to her, and that she needed to see the wolves.

And refusing to let her go out in the danger all alone, Aleksander had accompanied her. He was scared, of course. He had always been afraid of the dark but he never showed it, but she knew. He knew that she knew. That was why she had been holding his hand, warming the both of them up to keep them through the night.

It was a little past midnight when Sere had lost hopes of seeing the wolves and they were about to head back, when a deep growl sounded somewhere to their left.

A pair of bright red glowing eyes were fixated on them dangerously. She let go of his hand and shoved him behind herself and then reckoned the alpha wolf closer. Aleksander’s male ego would have been hurt if he weren’t so scared.

The wolf was one of the biggest animals he had ever seen, standing taller and either of them. For a moment he was certain the wolf was one of the Grisha of the old stories, the shape-shifters who couldn’t turn back into their human form after being in their animal form for too long during the first Ravkan war.

Before Aleksander could think of an escape route, Serephina had moved forward, studying the animal. Its dark black fur was blacker than anything he had ever seen, but it gleamed against the white snow under the moonlit canopy. The wolf and the girl regarded each other, assessing the danger.

The wolf leaped in the air with its jaw spread open to attack Serephina faster than he could say, “Stop!” She didn’t leave her ground and raised her hands, shoving them forward with all the force. The wolf fell to the ground as if hit by an invisible wall.

And when her flint sparked up from her sleeve, the cold blue flames scared the large animal. But it got up, shook the snow off its fur and got back into the battle.

Ice, air, fire all of the three elements helped Serephina in her conquest. She even used a bit of the heart rendering powers that she had mastered and paralyzed the wolf, after some of their blood had splattered on the snow, frozen like red pearls.

She walked to the laying wolf, limp in her step from where the wolf had bitten her leg, her hidden knife in hand and stabbed the wolf right where it heart would be. And strangely, the wolf looked proud when she did it, and then raised its paw and scratched it through her chest, right where her heart would be.

Aleksander’s soul left his body in that instant.

The soft glow of moonlight that came from Serephina showed her face, bloodied and contorted in pain, as both their blood flowed freely to the ground, freezing instantly on the snow. The wolf was the first one to close its eyes, the glowing red disappearing.

She fell on the snow next, her breath escaping with a sigh.

He rushed to her side, almost blinded by the brightness of the light she radiated, and cradled her head in his arms, regretting not staying back at their little cave, not being able to convince her to stay, not being able to protect her because of his own fears.

Then her eyes opened, and her thin lips moved, muttering his name. Her eyes glowed bright red, like the wolf’s but the voice was hers, for no one else could ever speak in that musical voice that made him want to drop everything and just listen to her talk all day.

“Sere…” he softly said, tucking her black hair behind her ear.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, and then stood up. Her hair was a mess, her eyes looked tired, but they were back to their brown, and her clothes were ragged, covered in her own blood and the wolf’s, but to him she had never looked more beautiful.

“But the wolf-” he started.

“The wolf is one with me now,” She calmly explained. Her eyes changed to the bright red once again. “I am the wolf and the wolf is me.”

“Like the amplifiers,” he realized.

She smiled. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

“I hope you don’t eat Grisha for meals now,” He joked.

“I might eat someone if he gets too annoying,” she winked at him and walked away. Aleksander was frozen in his place.

The wolf was old, she knew everything. Serephina had always had an answer to his problems. Things would have been so much better had her and their child were with him right now. He would have been so much happier and maybe they would have been done with the fold by now.

But fate always had other ideas.

#shadow and bone #the darkling #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #ben barnes #general kirigan imagine #shadow and bone imagine #the darkling imagine #the darkling x f!oc #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x oc

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cherienymphe · 2 years

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Can you list your top 5 cruelest dark characters?

1. Goosebumps Bucky.

Possibly controversial for the top spot, but his actions aren't driven by any other motives than power. He's actually probably what some people would consider sociopathic. He literally didn't even care about B, but pretended to just to have power over her and the reader. He enjoyed the game he played and while yes, he's attracted to the reader, it's not a huge attraction. His power over the reader and what he does to her is what turns him on. He has no remorse and enjoys preying on people.

2. OLT Peter

The only reason he's at number 2 and not number 1 is because there was love there once. Power over the reader is not his motivation. He's absolutely obsessed with the reader and wants to be her whole world and rely on him and only him. With that being said, this Peter has like...no limits to what he'll do to achieve that. He'll go as low as he needs to if it will completely break the reader down to where he wants her to be. He'll say what he needs to and behave in a way he needs to in order to completely twist her mind to his liking. If it came down to it where his back was against the wall, he'd absolutely kill anyone he felt he needed to to completely destroy her mind.

3. Kept Woman Steve

He's cruel but he actually does want something with the reader. He wants the wife he feels is perfect for him but he just has no problems with pushing her to her limits. This Steve is almost toying with the reader. She both angers and amuses him but he likes it. He's at number 3 tho because he is a mafia boss and has done some unspeakable things that's even got protect and serve Steve beat.

5. Protect and Serve Steve

I really don't think I need to elaborate on this one 😭 he's a murderer and serial rapist and kidnapper and he'll happily break the reader down to where he wants her to be.

5. Regrets of Yesterday Steve

This Steve is actually much crueler than I showed but we definitely saw some of it. He was motivated to get the reader back purely out of a sense of ownership. He thought he could fuck half the country and still get his happily ever after with his wife. He can be cruel when he doesn't get his way as we saw several times. He's selfish and entitled and he hated that she got more out of their arrangement than he did. His ego couldn't take it and the whole situation made him feel inferior and slighted and he lashed out. He's an overgrown child with access to guns

Honorable mentions: crossfire Bucky, Too Good Ransom, Joker

#asks

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dastardlydandelion · 3 years

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So...what kind of horror movie would you write featuring the Hargrove/ Mayfield family? (That you haven't written already lol)

oh boy, u may regret asking me this bc i am indecisive af and i can’t pick just one!

two that i'm actually writing are max as (g is for) ghostface killer in the abcs of neil’s death and also the max + tory nichols werewolf movie fic outlined here. also some more misc gorror junk bc i’m a demon and esp horny for susan wearing blood splatter. but more ideas commence below:

horror movie #1: another creature feature! awhile back @lucdarling sent me an ask abt max + billy hiding smth from susan and her like, playing along, pretending she doesn't know, and one of the scenarios that popped in my head was them keeping a baby bat as a pet. max finds it and she’s only like six or seven, and she thinks it’s going to turn into a vampire. so here is that scenario except horror edition: baby bat is actually a vampire type creature. not rly a vampire like, what’s prolly popping into ur head, like an undead human like dracula or smth, but like a bat monster that sucks blood.

billy being a lil older doesn’t actually think the bat is going to turn into a vampire. he makes fun of max for believing this, but he helps her take care of it anyway bc he thinks it’s cool. susan, like in the non-horror version, knows abt the bat but plays dumb bc she’s feeling a lot of guilt abt max’s difficulty adjusting to the blended fam (as of rn tho, neil has yet to reveal his abusive nature. the red flags are not yet red, more of a brownish maroon, and he is on his best behavior almost all the time, showering susan + max with affection and keeping the swears out of his mouth when he scolds billy in front of them) and knows the lil furry baby makes her happy. she tacitly cleans up after the bat whenever the kids miss a spot (bats poop a lot, dude) and distracts neil, deterring him from discovering it whenever he gets close.

baby bat gets rly big rly fast. and the older it gets, the more it starts to look monstrous. it still has bat features but it’s just like, different. its fangs grow suspiciously long, its hooks grow suspiciously long. its feet are elongated. a dorsal ridge emerges from its spine, spikes at first just flesh but soft fur rather like peach fuzz eventually sprouting. billy catches on that smth is strange abt this animal when it's as long as his forearm after two wks and still growing. he nearly shits a brick when the bat is clinging to his sweater one day and he steps in front of a mirror and only his reflection looks back at him— no bat.

max laughs at him all like, “stupid brother, ofc there’s no reflection. nosferatu is a vampire, vampires don’t have reflections.” 😂

susan catches a glimpse of the thing when nosferatu crawls out of the home max built it in her closet the same wk billy realizes it doesn’t have a reflection, and also almost shits a brick. she doesn’t know what it is, but it’s NOT a fucking bat. not a normal one, anyway! cue a comedy scene where she’s chasing it around the house with a butterfly net and it’s always one flap *ba dum tss* ahead of her, flying just out of reach. she suddenly regrets not getting rid of it sooner, scolding herself for ever allowing her daughter to keep a wild animal.

she can’t catch it. max comes home, susan tells her she needs to get rid of it. max cries, flips her the bird, refuses. billy tho…billy has mixed feelings. he loves nosferatu but he’s worried it’s going to get dangerous. he loves his dad and his dad is dangerous too. he’s stressed out enough, always on edge, knowing that one way or the other, neil is going to hurt him again. he’s already waiting for his dad to hurt him, he doesn’t need the added stress of waiting for nosferatu to hurt him too. and while max is 100% nosferatu’s favorite, it likes billy too. billy’s been handling it since it could fit in the palm of his hand, it trusts him much more than it trusts susan and doesn’t know any different when billy takes it out of the closet when max isn’t around.

billy frees nosferatu at an abandoned farm. there are always bats flying out of the old silo adjacent to the dilapidated barn. while he knows nosferatu isn’t a *normal* bat, it’s still bat like enough that he thinks it might make friends and be happy here…

yeah, that doesn’t stick. before long, nosferatu is feasting on that colony. leeches the blood out of a couple bats nightly. the number of bats increases with nosferatu’s size. meanwhile, max mourns her missing friend. she’s sullen af and won’t speak to susan at all. she thinks susan is the one who got rid of nosferatu. billy never fesses up and susan doesn’t contradict max’s assumption bc she wants the step-siblings to get along.

neil, meanwhile, is getting more comfortable. those maroon flags are slowly but surely brightening to scarlet. he starts sabotaging susan’s plans with her friends, trying to keep her around the house more and more, quietly but steadily eroding her relationships with other people. he’s getting more visibly aggressive when he disciplines billy. he curses him out with a virulent venom that dunks susan’s stomach in ice water and scares max so badly, she runs to susan and hides behind her even though she’s still so mad that susan got rid of her beloved baby vampire.

nosferatu’s appetite surpasses what the bat colony can offer. it’s like the size of a ten yr old human child now. fucker’s big. it doesn’t just have fangs on top, but tusks on bottom. it can’t go out in the sunlight anymore, the sun sears its flesh. it misses max a lot and before, it wasn’t strong enough to fly back to her house. but now it is. it’s extremely strong, actually.

so bc it's hungry, nosferatu grabs a snack along the way. some nameless rando, it swoops down and sucks dry. nourished and much happier, nosferatu makes its way back home. patiently waits outside of max’s bedroom in the moonlight, tapping its hook against the window until she wakes up. initially max is a lil startled— nosferatu looks so different, there’s a beat before she recognizes it— him?? yk, ig it’s male, the og nosferatu was a guy. sure, why not, nosferatu is a boy now.

once she realizes who it is, she is so! happy! max opens the window and embraces her friend. she isn’t freaked out by the blood on its fangs. she’s always known nosferatu is a vampire, albeit, she was thinking he’d look more like dracula than this bat-monster-thingy.

nosferatu moves back into max’s closet. it hangs upside-down from her rod by its weird, elongated feet. we get more shots of nosferatu sucking rando ppl dry at night, tho he remains gentle with max. when max drags billy in to show her he came back, nosferatu is less friendly with him. he’s not aggressive with billy, but he is standoffish. nosferatu’s thought process is somewhere between human and animal. he doesn’t quite cognitively understand that billy took him to the farm with the intent of getting rid of him, but he does understand that the last time he clung to billy, billy left him alone and never came back. max puts two and two together, and realizes it was billy who “stole” her friend. she yells at him a lot, he yells back, she then ices him out.

billy acts out bc he’s upset. runs away, thinks he’s going to find his mom…the cops find him first and call neil. neil is rly embarrassed and pissed abt the whole thing. he breaks down and beats billy in front of the mayfields for the first time. nosferatu smells the blood and it’s time for the main event! we love dead!neil, yes, we do.

nosferatu flies out the closet and right into the living room where billy’s bleeding and teary but biting his lip so they don’t actually fall. susan’s covering max’s eyes but so shocked and tbh, FRIGHTENED, she doesn’t move a muscle beyond that. neil’s got the belt raised, preparing to bring it down again, and nosferatu smashes right into him. neil stumbles, turns back to see this freaky monster looking thing. proceeds to whip the belt at nosferatu. tries to fight him off with the belt and it doesn’t accomplish much beyond pissing him off more— nosferatu, like most classic vampire types, has a healing factor!

max rips her mom’s hands off her face in time to see her pet sink its fangs into her stepdad’s throat. nosferatu sucks neil dry. billy’s a little dazed, not quite frightened. susan is just dead ass frozen, too scared to scream, even. nosferatu crawls over to billy and nudges at him, making sure he’s in once piece and forgiving him in the same go. max darts over and that snaps susan out of her stupor, but she isn’t as fast as our blood-sucking bat monster.

nosferatu stretches his wings out and with a truly impressive wingspan, hugs both of the kids. <3

horror movie #2: a haunting! this one opens with a bang. it’s a tragic horror, beware. we’re in hawkins post s3. billy died at starcourt mall. neil’s obvi had a longstanding abusive mindset and abusive behavior, but he rly takes his grief out on susan and max. mostly susan. she does her best to protect max however she can, whether that means shielding her w her body, sending her out of the house, getting neil’s goat to inspire his ire in max’s place, etc. but sue simply isn’t around all the time and when she isn’t, but max is, well. yk.

one day neil comes home early (bc he lost his job for a violent outburst, tbh) and discovers susan packing a suitcase.

sue fights hard. she rly does. but neil is bigger, heavier, crueler, and to boot, he caught her completely unawares. he kills her. and no, no it’s not some accidental thing where neil makes one bad move rage-blind. he strangles her with his belt. she’s clawing at his arms and making these horrible choked, trapped animal noises. thrashes and twists her body with everything she has trying to get him off but he’s so strong, his grip is unrelenting, and she's growing weaker, lightheaded with the lack of oxygen. strangulation can induce incontinence and when susan blacks out, her piss streams to the hardwood— neil hears that as much as he felt the clawing and heard the noises, even now he could stop, but he doesn’t. he just. doesn’t think his wife has the right to leave him, esp not after his son just did.

neil burns the body and the suitcase in the woods while max is at school. max has been spending as much time as she can (and often with sue’s prompting) outside of the house, so it actually takes her about two days to realize her mother isn’t around. neil tells a pretty convincing story about how susan abandoned them, voice saturated with apology and sorrow. he takes her out for a fancy dinner and promises he’s going to be a better father-- that being a better father is the least he can do now that her mother abandoned her and they are alone in their grief.

max doesn’t know what to think. she’s been preoccupied with her own grief and pain. she finds it hard to believe her mother would just leave her to neil’s wrath. she has a lot of hangups with susan and anger toward her for marrying neil and not getting them out sooner, but she’s also old enough to realize there would be risks involved with that. it’s hard to reconcile the memory of her mother just last wk pinning max to the wall to protect her from neil’s blows with her own bod just abruptly taking off without a word in the middle of the night. but hey, maybe that’s why susan left. maybe she got sick of protecting her, maybe the pain got to be too much and she turned tail.

but also…it’s early october now, abt three months after billy’s death but still fairly warm outside. yet neil is wearing long sleeves. neil never used to button his collared shirts all the way up, and yet. every collar is buttoned. also, mom’s car is still here. why would mom leave without her car?

that ceramic pelican she loved so much is still here too, on the mantle in the living room. it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing she would leave behind, she's had it since max was a baby.

max almost wants to believe neil because she’d rather her mother abandoned her than be dead somewhere, rotting in a storage locker or a hole in the ground. under the earth with the worms, just like billy. max has the worst feeling low in the pit of her gut. she thinks she knows the truth. she thinks abt going to hopper and hesitates bc she’s not sure she could handle it if he actually found smth. or what would happen to her if he did, where she would be sent, who she would end up with.

this movie would be more on the ambiguous end of things. an arthouse horror, if u will.

the days turn into wks and neil is crawling in his skin. the viewer isn’t sure if the shadows he’s seeing, always, always susan-shaped shadows, are of a ghostly nature or if he’s just hallucinating out of guilt. but the signs gradually point to the former— that smth paranormal is indeed going on. bc those scratches and bite marks susan left in his skin?

they do not heal. they do not get infected. they do not become necrotic. but they do not heal, either. days turn into wks and the wounds still look fresh, like she just left them moments ago. neil can’t wear light colors anymore because his wounds weep red into the fabric. he isn’t just seeing susan’s shadows either, he’s smelling her.

he washes his sheets and pillowcases a dozen times and the scent of her shampoo, her lotion, it’s like it’s woven into the fibers. he walks into the hallway and chokes on the aroma of susan’s perfume. he wonders if max is screwing with him, if max figured it out and she’s trying to torture him into a confession. one day he stomps off to max's bedroom, furious, adamant on confronting her. he grabs her doorknob, prepared to yank it open and then lets out a yelp, jerking his hand back with a sudden sharp pain.

it feels like a bee sting (which would be esp bad for this fucker in anything i write, bc i headcanon him as being allergic). but there’s no stinger. no injury. nothing. neil is freaked out enough that he backs down.

max, on the other hand, is getting gentler signs. when she turns the radio dial in the camaro, it’s somehow always her mom’s favorite songs that come thru the speakers. when she goes to pull clothes out of her drawers in the morning, she discovers that the things she’d just shoved inside in wrinkled balls are perfectly folded, neat as a pin, exactly like how susan always folded. susan was always fond of cardinals and suddenly max is seeing cardinals, pretty red cardinals, in just abt erry tree and shrub.

neil wakes up one night to his wife’s voice whispering “boo” right in his ear. he throws the covers off and discovers ashes in the bed. he doesn’t smell susan’s shampoo or lotion anymore, he smells the kerosine he’d poured all over her body.

his wounds still won’t heal. whenever he looks in the mirror, he catches a glimpse of susan walking past behind him, peering at him from her peripheral. he whips around, heart hammering, but there’s never any tangible person there.

max is almost certain her mother is dead at this point. neil’s been so bizarrely nice to her lately. she never believed in ghosts but her experiences with the upside-down broadened her perception of reality. she doesn’t know how else to explain the songs, the cardinals, the folded clothes. the way that these days, whenever she does feel fear toward neil, it just fades away. her fear melts like popsicles in the sun, immediately replaced by the sensation of a warm, maternal hug, as if arms she can’t see are trying to reassure her she truly doesn’t need to be afraid of him anymore.

in fact, max feels so unafraid of neil and brave, that one night she calls him out on it. he’s grizzled and unshaven in his recliner, beer in hand. she steps in front of the television he’s vacantly fixated on and folds her arms across her chest.

“you killed my mom, didn’t you?”

quick as a flash, neil leaps to his feet. he brings his arm back like he’s going to strike her and susan’s ceramic pelican on the mantle explodes into shards. the lights flicker, the television program cuts to snow with a static roar. every other knickknack on the mantle rattles and framed photos tumble off the wall.

neil very wisely lowers his hand. he slumps, boneless. he doesn’t say a word. max sees the answer in his eyes. it’s the dead of night and she snatches the camaro keys off the hook, marching out of the house, slamming the door behind her. it’s the dead of night and she doesn’t care. she’s going to blow past every stop sign and pound on the chief’s door until he opens up. and fuck, i just realized if this is post s3 he’s supposed to be in russia. shit. i don’t watch this show, but i know abt russia bc i DID watch the clips of that demogorgon that i rly hope isn’t stuck in captivity!! okay, but let’s pretend that didn’t happen?

it’s an au?? i mean, errything i write is always technically an au anyway, bc when i write stuff susan has an actual personality and billy isn’t *completely* abhorrent. okay, so it’s an au and mr. hopper didn’t blow up and un-blow up in russia. he’s still here. so max drives to his house.

she pounds on the door so hard this guy snaps outta bed, thinking someone’s trying to bust it down. she tells him neil confessed to killing her mom. it isn’t true, exactly, but he didn’t have to. so it’s a helluva grim drive back to cherry lane, this time in the cop car.

but when they go inside, chief prepared to arrest neil, no need. neil’s hanging from the belt he strangled susan with, shirtless for the first time since that night, erry seemingly fresh furrow and bite mark on full display. below his dangling feet is a map, the area he burned susan’s corpse in circled in red marker. did he kill himself or did the ghost do it?

up to u, we soundlessly cut to credits without a concrete answer to that question.

horror movie #3: crossover special! stranger things meets the chilling adventures of sabrina. sequel to that fic i wrote where susan makes out with lilith, queen of hell, and lilith kills neil for her. sue officially joins the church of lilith. bc in this ‘verse the church of lilith actually happens after caos s2 instead of the nonsense that was s3 and the inconceivably godawful migraine-inducing shit-fest that was s4.

killing neil was lilith’s only freebee. susan isn’t a witch, she’s a mortal, so in order to reap the other rewards of worshipping the one and only mother of demons, she has to fornicate with the witches and participate in the sacrifices!!!

this is, uh, well. it’s p much a porno, dude, sorry. 😅

this is just an excuse for susan to have sex with lilith, zelda, marie, hilda, big witch orgies + susan. witches bathing in the blood of their sacrifices, susan so nervous and timid but unable to deny her desire. the witch’s dressing her in their gothic garb.

how does the rest of the fam get it on this?

max joins the church too. she has more age-appropriate conduct with sabrina and the weird sisters, and what have you. just smooches and over-the-clothes groping, and whatnot, even tho the weird sisters, at least, would be interested in going further if given the opportunity.

billy dies in starcourt again, so he gets revived in the cain pit! hilda is the one who goes to him after bc she’s been in the cain pit many a time (i am still BIG side-eyeing zelda for repeatedly murdering her sister since childhood). hilda understands how jarring it can be to come back. suddenly alive!billy is freaking tf out but she brings him inside the mortuary, wraps him up in a big blanket burrito and they have a talk. hilda explains that he’s going to be okay and rubs his back while he tentatively sips the hot chocolate she made.

after billy’s calmed down, she brings max and susan in. max and susan can’t do as much magic as the caos witches— they’re mortals, after all, it’s not in their nature —but they’ve gained some abilities thru being in the church, following the rituals, and being carnally involved with the immortal witches. max happily shows him some of her new magic tricks.

horror movie #4: another crossover with caos. heavily inspired by creepshow episode s2e1, model kid (which i already v blatantly referenced in the last axe snafu update and i’m not ashamed, bc it’s a good series i love v much).

billy picks max up from the byers’ place rly late one night. it’s dark and the weather is bad and okay, yeh, he might be a little high. and a little concussed. he pissed neil off pretty bad the other day and okay, actually he’s defo concussed bc he doesn’t even remember what he did wrong!

needless to say, they take a wrong turn somewhere. they end up in greendale. at first max is pissed. she yells at him a lot! yells so loud hilda can hear them thru the walls of dr. cerberus’s comic shop/diner. she goes outside to see what all the fuss is abt, hilda never rly ignores youth in need. we love hilda, she deserved so much better…i’m getting distracted, okay, back to the story.

hilda ushers them inside. max is like, “ooh, comics? horror junk and comics? nvm, i’m not mad anymore.” she pats billy’s arm and wanders away to go check stuff out! hilda makes billy sit down. caos canon established that she’s psychic, at least when she wants to be. she smells the weed but she also sees his life, his trauma. billy doesn’t remember what he did to piss neil off or the abuse that followed, but hilda sees it clear as day.

he’s rude and cranky w her when she probes a little too much for his liking. hilda gently but firmly reprimands him and gets him a milkshake on this house. then she goes to check on max. she steers max to a v particular section of the shop, the one that sells model kits. now, max isn’t *huge* into model kits BUT they are p neat and she enjoys them well enough. more so when the weather is nasty and she can’t go outside. or when she needs smth to do with her hands (a trait she shares w susan) to distract herself and ease some of the anxiety when she hears her brother being beaten or her mother being shouted at.

max is actually rly impressed by the array of models. vintage ones and newer ones. monsters, slashers, final girls, tiny accessories like knives and bloodied heads. but when she gets to the paint-your-own shelf, her jaw drops to the floor.

there’s one that looks just like neil. unpainted, plain gray vinyl, but undoubtedly her stepdad. the expression on the five inch figurine is one frozen in fear.

“i think that one’s calling to you,” hilda prompts her, with the softest smile.

max blinks away her bewilderment altho she still can’t speak. she turns to hilda and turns her empty pockets inside out. hilda just waves her hand. she tells her it’s on the house. that it wouldn’t be fair if she gave billy smth on the house, but not max.

speaking of billy, when he finishes his milkshake, he’s suddenly totally sober and healed!! no more high buzzing in his blood. no more pounding headache or concussion fogging his mind. he doesn’t feel his bruises anymore, rolls his sleeve up, and realizes they simply aren’t there anymore. like they dissolved off his skin.

albeit it’s muttered under his breath, but billy does thank hilda. then he and max are on their way. max shows him the suspiciously familiar figurine in the box. this night cannot get weirder.

max knows what to do with the model kit. she does. she isn’t sure how she knows, but she does. she grapples with it for a long time. neil’s the closest thing she has to a dad these days. and things aren’t bad all the time, ofc.

sometimes neil gives max a ride when mom and billy aren’t available. sometimes he brings her ice cream entirely unprompted. neil’s the one who picks max up off the sidewalk when she wipes out super bad on her skateboard, carries her inside and then later to the car when her cut doesn’t stop bleeding and she ends up needing stitches.

but most of the time he sucks. she can’t rly be herself around him. he's indifferent to her interest at best, scornful at worst. he would hate all her friends. he scares the shit out of her when he’s angry. he doesn’t have a problem belittling her mother in front of her, tearing susan to shreds and making her out like she’s lower than dirt, the most worthless person on the planet. doesn’t have a problem beating billy in front of her or glaring at her with the promise that she’ll be next if she dares to voice her dissent.

max doesn’t always want to do what she knows she’s meant to do with the model. bc she's kind at heart and bc on the good days, she genuinely does have mixed feelings toward neil. never enough to hope he'll be better, he's proven he won't...but maybe enough to hope he won't get worse, either.

then comes the night neil breaks ribs. bad, like we’re talking, a-sharp-spear-of-broken-rib-punctures-billy’s-lung-and-he’s-coughing-up-blood-bad. that’s a trip to the emergency room. in the days that follow, at her next dnd meeting w the party, max places the fully and attentively painted model of her stepdad on the table. normally her pals would protest her derailing the intended game, but they can sense it, yk, that smth is different.

max takes over as dungeon master to the protest of no one, all other mouths sealed as if bewitched and spellbound. she narrators a scene where the demogorgon devours neil and uses the demogorgon piece and the model for demonstration.

when max returns home, neil is strewn across the house in gory chunks and torn wallpaper curls around massive claw marks.

#writerwhowritesao3 #susan hargrove #max mayfield #billy hargrove #neil hargrove #crossover #hilda spellman #my scenario tag #i may have gotten carried away #my bad #it's october!#i'm in big horror mode

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marchioness-caprina · 3 years

Text

Kohai

Pairings : Tamaki Amajiki x Close Friend Reader

Writing Style : 3rd Person

Warnings : None , Just Fluff.

Word Count : 1400

3rd Person's POV

" The Big Three, the 3 strongest Students in U.A " Aizawa sensei announced as gasps and a few exchanged words of chatter were heard throughout the room.

Class 1-A were seated on their seats and in front of them were the three figures who were known to be the strongest . 2 males and 1 female.

" Introduce Yourselves.... Starting with You " Aizawa sensei ordered pointing at the male with Indigo hair.

One student in particular, namely y/n already knows the three in front of them. She and Tamaki were neighbors and since Mirio became friends with Tamaki the same thing happened to y/n and Mirio, They became friends.

Tamaki and y/n shared a special type of relationship, Tamaki would often go or more like throw himself all over y/n whenever he's having his anxiety breakdowns and needs something to lean on. This often happened when they were children and up until now. If it were some other girl Tamaki would have fainted from embarrassment but he felt safe and at home within y/n's arms. He felt like nobody judged him and all his insecurities and problems were washed away.

Y/n would often encourage and support Tamaki with all her Might and since class 1-A's frequent involvement with Villains Tamaki had been extra protective with her. A side of him that Mirio and Hado never saw.

Mirio and Hado on the sidelines would cheer for the two because who could ever deny the fact that they're cute together? .

Tamaki felt a sense of belonging when he's with y/n and even though he tries his best imagining everyone as a potato, whenever his eyes lands on y/n all he sees is her face and that beautiful heart melting smile of hers.

Although Tamaki is indeed Timid and Soft spoken, a scarier and crueler side of him seems to resurface whenever someone talks bad about y/n or if anyone has a foul intention of hurting her. He converts into a completely different person when she's involved .

Y/n does make occasional visits in their classroom and god forgive the boys who even try to flirt with her because Tamaki is already standing behind her glaring daggers at the pest who tried to steal her attention away from Tamaki.

Lesson learned for the boys in Tamaki's class ; Never Ever Flirt with the Cute Kohai Named y/n.

Back to the setting, Tamaki was asked to introduce himself and deep inside he was extremely nervous but tried to concentrate . his eyes turning hard and intimidating the atmosphere turning tense and unnerving and everyone in Class 1-A took notice of the sudden and intimidating stare of the Senior in front of them.

"What's with that Look!? "

" All that intensity with just one glance?! "

Came the comments from y/n's classmates but she knew better than most of them.

' He's really nervous ' she silently thought shaking her head.

" It's no good.... Mirio.... Hado... Even if I Look at them imagining they're potatoes... Everything other than their heads remain human . . . . I can't see them as anything but humans.... What should I do? . ... I can't say anything " Tamaki muttered but somehow everyone heard him loud and clear.

He was trembling and his lips were quivering as he spoke until his eyes landed on the h/c girl who was seated near the corner watching him. The girl took notice of his stare and smiled at him.

Gosh that smile again. That smile that can have him melt within seconds. That smile that had Tamaki smitten for the girl. Her one smile managed to calm him down and everyone else's heads were a potato besides that beautiful face of hers.

But the moment The girl tore her gaze away from his to look at her teacher, Tamaki almost whined with the loss of attention and soon the feeling of panic and anxiety rose to the pits of his stomach and he shook violently.

" My...... My mind's Blank..... I can't.... " He uttered out and he was being honest. His mind is blank because the next thing he did shocked everyone in the room.

Nobody had ever seen someone walk as fast as Tamaki because he had sped walked from his spot and he seemingly appeared in front of y/n within seconds.

He kneeled down on both his knees and everyone was caught off guard with the following actions.

He had wrapped his arms around y/n's waist pulling her closer as he dipped his head down on her chest nuzzling his face on her warm fleshy chest while shaking.

" I want to go home! " He half yelled and everyone was stupefied and couldn't believe their eyes.

" EHHHH!? " They didn't know if they should be shocked to know that someone so timid and anxious could be part of the big 3 or if they should start questioning why a member of the big 3 had thrown himself all over their classmate.

" Tama, we're at school! " Y/n whispered in panic but Tamaki only responded by a small whimper as he tightened his hold around the girl nuzzling his face even further.

" Uhhh..... Hahahaha? " Y/n laughed nervously as the eyes of her classmates bore onto her very being . Her cheeks slowly turning a small shade of red .

" Y/n...." Tamaki whined and y/n got the message . He wanted her to comfort him like she used to.

It made everyone's jaw drop when y/n started stroking and caressing Tamaki's head as if she was sushing a small child comfortingly. She almost looked so loving it made everyone question if this was their female classmate that everyone feared when she was pissed because her anger was so great even bakugou is terrified. And bakugou fears nobody! ( besides his mistuki ) Until now.

" Y-Y/n-san.... Uhh... What's going on exactly? " Izuku asked in favor of everyone who had the same question.

" When I said introduce yourself.... I didn't mean throw yourself onto one of my daughter----- ehem ----- female students " Aizawa sensei grumbled activating his quirk. His eyes glowing red as he stared at Tamaki's figure hugging one of his children .

Yes he was a protective father figure. Especially with the girls.

" U-umm... You see Tamaki and y/n are neighbors and very close friends! And w-whenever Tamaki is nervous he always hugs y/n since it comforts him E-Everytime please calm down s-sensei " Mirio tried reasoning with Aizawa sensei who was glaring menacingly in a fatherly way at Tamaki.

" I'm Nejire Hado! And That's Tamaki Amajiki and he's very Nervous as you can see! Aren't they cute together? " Nejire cooed and the girls of Class 1-A cheered strongly agreeing with their female Senpai, some girls even standing up from their seats to take pictures.

" Everyone. SIT DOWN" with those stern words from Aizawa sensei everyone quieted down immediately fearing the wrath of their sensei.

" Fine, if he's very nervous he can go out to take a breath and come back when he's ready " Aizawa sensei sighed giving a wave of approval for Tamaki to go out but once again everyone was surprised, even Mirio and Nejire who knew their friend well was surprised at Tamaki's sudden boldness.

Tamaki abruptly stood up but he still had his arms wrapped around y/n's waist and his head still buried in her chest. The only difference was that he was carrying her off the ground.

" I'm going out " Tamaki muttered taking a firm grip on y/n.

" Ehh? Tama!? " Y/n exclaimed and was overwhelmed by the sudden action she had her hands gripping tightly around his head thus keeping Tamaki's head in place on her chest and Tamaki was not complaining at all.

" Shit! This is so Erotic and right in front of everyone! " Mineta gave a lewd comment making everyone glare at him.

" Mineta! Shut up! " Aizawa sensei snapped and the purple headed boy was put to silence right away.

" I'm going out " Tamaki repeated as he started taking a few steps forward.

" Tamaki Amajiki Put my Daughter----Female student Down! "

#bnha x reader #Bnha Imagine #Tamaki Amajiki #Tamaki x Reader #Romance #Bnha #Tamaki Imagines #My Hero Academia #Boku no Hero Academia #y/n #Reader #MHA

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anerdinallherglory · 3 years

Text

Approaching Sun (30)

Author’s Note: Happy late Valentine’s Day! Fun note: I actually started A.S. on this very same holiday a couple years back. And I did not expect the length or plot this story has taken at allll. Again, I am sorry this is so late. I am hoping to update a LOT more this summer (only one summer class this time!) Unless I get the new job that I am hoping for (fingers crossed). But if I get this job, my free time to write will really open up for me. So it’s a win-win for this story either way.

Also, I want to especially thank these readers: adarkunicorn, softshelldefence, seafoamsands, hatakeliz, harza4925, peachop, cheese-and-biscuits, epitomeofprocrastination, tamnobela, and andreeastroe. These readers really encouraged me to keep writing this story after I was ready trash and take it off all of its publishing sites. You can thank them this story continues.

To all my reviewers, I seriously love you ALL. I am hoping I will get to a point where I can take a break from student emails and respond to each and every one of your reviews in the future. That will be my new year’s resolution this year! I am going to be better. You are all amazing and bring me so much joy and encouragement.

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29

Chapter 30: A Very Dangerous Game

Sasuke hated Kaguya’s sand dimension even more than he disliked the desert that covered the vast majority of the Land of Wind. This dimension was forever hot despite that the dimension’s otherworldly moon hung low in the dark horizon, a massive orb of blinding white that mirrored the Earth’s moon in exact replica. Sasuke had always felt like the illusion was a reminder of the Otsusuki people, and that Kaguya had designed this dimension to display something that reminded her of home. To Sasuke, the dimension moons eerily reminded him of Kaguya’s pupil-less irises, always watching the spaces that existed between nothing.

Glaring at it in paranoid response, Sasuke, deprived of chakra now, walked toward it slowly and determinedly as a challenge. He would show her exactly how her dimensions were now his domains. The Uchiha decided he would walk freely here because he couldn’t do as he pleased his own world. He wanted to scream curses at that eye-like globe, demanding the Otsusuki show up and take him on now in his weakened state.

“Come on!” he screamed. “All of you! What are you waiting for? Let’s get this over with! I will find you all eventually!” He wanted it done. He wanted this over. He wanted to have a life despite his promise to be the worlds’ sacrifice for peace.

As if to taunt him, Sasuke’s shuffling feet snagged over something in the sand, and he glanced down at his feet in surprise. A ninja’s vest, half-burnt away from acid, displayed itself like a green bearing flag left behind by those who had explored a barren planet. Even though Sasuke had been the only human to ever walk here, Sakura’s old vest that Sasuke had used as a teleport connection between dimensions back when he had been trapped here, always served as a call to his more current jumps. In other words, every time Sasuke had come here over the past couple of years, no matter where he opened the portal, he would always land within a few feet of it.

In the past, he had thought of removing it because it was a painful reminder in many ways. But as he returned consistently to the same spot, Sasuke began to theorize that it had something to do with his ability to travel here. At first, Sasuke believed it was because during teleportation, his path crisscrossed into a connection that had already been created and used before—this was the most likely explanation; his chakra simply wasn’t strong enough to rip a new tear in the fabric of space and time. But as he looked at it now, Sasuke wondered if there was more to it than that. Did emotions tie him to this piece of fabric? And because Sasuke’s friends always existed somewhere in the back of his mind, did his chakra seek it out as something familiar to secure itself to before flinging him through the vacuum of nothingness?

Sasuke glared back at the moon in hatred, wondering too, if it could be just a sick part of Kaguya’s illusions, knowing that the vest had in the past and always, always would continue to stop the Uchiha in his tracks. A temptation reminding him of a different life, one that would cause him to ignore the Otsusuki. Kaguya would want that.

He sat down beside it despite how much he wanted to turn and walk away from it as he always had. This time, he let it be his beacon out of the void, drawing some sort of strength from it in his chakra-deprived state. The whole point of being this exhausted was to avoid thinking of her, but the tattered shinobi vest always pricked him with guilt, especially now when he had left her alone in Sunagakure despite his promises of partnership. It was as if the green material had a voice of its own, saying “See how far she would go for you?” And Sasuke, keeping his thoughts private from the ever-watching rock above, would think to himself “I am doing this for her, too. She will understand eventually. She will accept just how far I am willing to go for this peace we both envision. We have the same goal.”

As Sasuke thought these thoughts again, Sasuke accepted that if they couldn’t be united in love, then at the very least, they would be united in the same goal, the same vision of happiness. It comforted him ever so slightly.

He sighed as he fingered the chakra pills at his waist, guilt invading his chest and suffocating him. How could he tell her his true feelings and make her accept what he was willing to accept? How could he satisfy the both of them and do the least damage?

Sasuke exhaled and leaned back in the sand once more to sleep, sweat beading across his brow in the high temperature. He turned on his side and faced the vest in exhaustion, pretending it was her—pretending to be satisfied with this small piece of the woman he loved and would ever allow himself to dream this close to.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The blackness pervaded all of Sakura’s senses as soon as her feet hit the ground opposite the giant hole she had just created in the sand. She blinked hard, hearing the cursing and alarmed proclamations of those she had attacked. The darkness was like a leaden mist before her eyes and Sakura instinctively created the sign of “release” for genjutsu. And whether it was from her lack of chakra, or because this was a ninjutsu, Sakura’s attempts yielded zero results. The blackness remained and blinded her past several inches in front of her face. When she heard Isao’s shout for her, she had no choice but to dart forward blindly, determined to reach him before someone else did.

“Let go of me!” the child screamed, his pursuer unfortunately catching up with him. Sakura navigated through the pillars of sand-dripping earth that now projected themselves in the air around her. With hands outstretched, she cursed herself. The blow had meant to disorient her opponents and it had, but this damn thickening darkness made it difficult to move forward through the landscape of her own destruction. Thankfully, the waterfalling crumble of sand masked her rushed footfalls.

The kunoichi drew upon her chakra once more, but it came as slowly as before, the medicine still lingering in her system with its toxic chakra clotting effects. Sakura moved hurriedly ahead, hoping that she wasn’t the only one choked with darkness.

Isao’s curses came and Sakura finally rounded a huge boulder to find herself facing the back of the thug’s head. He had his massive hands around the child’s throat, weapon tossed aside in favor of a crueler death to the victim that had caused him so much trouble. Despite his struggle for his life, Isao made eye contact with her the moment they were close enough to see each other. His attacker saw recognition register in the boy’s eyes and spun to face her. But it was too late. Sakura’s kunai was slicing the gray flesh of his throat before he even had time to see her, a final blow that had been delayed from earlier, but determined by fate to be his cause of death. The brutish ninja dropped to the ground instantly and Sakura justified the blood that pooled freely at her feet by remembering his cruel actions to the child that struggled to catch his breath before her.

Sakura picked up the abandoned weapon, the weight unfamiliar in her hands. The sound of the man’s death had betrayed her position, and the footsteps of his companions crunched closer to her location. Terrified, Sakura clutched the child, pushing him behind the jagged column of rock behind her.

“Isao,” she pleaded in a whisper. “You have to make a run for it.”

“I won’t leave you,” he declared, determined to fight to his death for her.

“The only thing you can do for me now is to go get help,” she said honestly. It was a half-truth. There were only a few realities before them, and Isao making it back to the village and bringing help was not likely due to how much time it would take. But Sakura was desperate to remove the brave child from the scenario. She cared too much to let him sacrifice himself for her.

“Miss—” he protested, but Sakura propelled him forward in the blinding darkness, an enemy’s footsteps rounding the earth that cloaked him. It was too late to argue, and Sakura turned to face the phantom-man who stepped toward her in visibility, shadows curling around him as he cleared a path through the inky mist.

Sakura faced him squarely, taking a defensive stance and raising the wicked katana with her sharper green eyes, sending a stare to him along the metal’s surface. The shadow-wielding ninja smirked and the rest of his crew appeared beside him.

“Go!” she screamed in final command at the child whose feet took off into the black at her back.

Sakura brandished the sword in confident threat at her attackers, herself serving as the shield between herself and Isao; they wouldn’t move an inch in pursuit of his direction if she had anything to do with it. Sakura had never wielded a sword before, but in the absence of chakra, she would become a master at it in this moment. Sakura was a kunoichi, a medic, a chakra control master, the pupil of a legendary Sanin, a rising legend herself, and today, she would add something else to her list. Scratch that. She would two things tonight: she would eradicate this new movement of anti-peace revolutionaries, and she would do it at disadvantage with the weapon of her enemy.

. . . . . . . .

As Isao ran, he clutched his side in pain, a sharp stab in his waist. The man who Sakura had killed moments before must have broken one of his ribs as he crushed Isao to the ground. At first, the young ninja pitched forward in blackness, half-debating to turn back to help the pink-haired ninja. But Isao knew the truth. He had been foolish to pursue her and her kidnappers alone and he cursed himself for his rash decisions in his fear of losing sight of them; he should have told someone else even if he lost their trail. Any of them, anyone at allwould have been better help to Miss Haruno than he had been.

Isao’s bravery amounted to nothing and it was evident in every piercing word from the medic kunoichi: The only thing you can do for me now is to go get help … Isao let the command fuel him forward despite the pain, until the night faded into morning hours later and the mighty walls of the Sand Village came into view.

He didn’t know how much time had passed and he didn’t wait to scream for help. The Kazekage was not in the village—he had overheard that much. Neither was the teammate that traveled with Miss Haruno. He yelled the only name he could think of, the name his heart still cried out to despite how much he hated him. The roaring sand shrouded his cries, and the prison walls would buffer it completely, but Isao begged to the air, shouting over and over, “FATHER! HELP ME!”

. . . . . . . .

The taste of the chakra pill was bitter, smoky and acrid. The Uchiha almost gagged trying to swallow it down, and he silently confirmed that Sai had been right—although Sasuke hated to agree with anything his entitled replacement said. What had he called them? Mudballs? Despite the accurate term, Sasuke feared his kunoichi companion more than he hated the taste, so he would keep the complaint to himself.

The pill pooled in his stomach and Sasuke took a breath, focusing on the ignition starting in his core. The rush of power was exhilarating as it topped off his chakra supply, overflowing visibly in a blue-purple halo around him. It sizzled along his skin and Sasuke grinned wickedly as a spiraling vortex appeared before him, much larger than any he had been able to create on his own before.

This was it! It was working! He pushed beyond the core dimension easily, his ready supply of chakra speedily fueling the tunnel between the void, but it ate and ate away at his energy and the color disappeared from his skin. Running off his own meager supply now, Sasuke exhaled and grinded his teeth in concentration. Finally, the connection was made and Sasuke threw himself through it.

He landed roughly, skidding to a halt, and he was ironically thankful for once for the Land of Wind’s high volume of sand. Sasuke found himself smirking up at the lightening sky as he recovered, because this was his first victory in a long struggle of jumping dimensions. To the Uchiha, it was proof that he was doing exactly what he was meant to do: beat Kaguya and the Otsusuki clan at their own game in their own territory. Giddy in his success, Sasuke used the last of his dwindling energy to rise to his feet, his thoughts immediately turning to the woman who had helped make this all possible—he hadn’t achieved this on his own; Sakura deserved the credit. And it was the first time that Sasuke could admit that he needed someone else’s help in his goal.

The dark walls of Sunagakure cut the bright morning horizon in half and Sasuke’s gut twisted in a combination of emptiness and guilt at the thought of returning to Sunagakure to face his friend after their… kiss. Sasuke was torn between finding her immediately to tell her that their plan had worked, pretending the kiss never happened in typical Uchiha fashion. But the time he had stolen away from her “to think” brought him to only one conclusion: he needed to apologize—again—and at least explain why. He had made her a promise to be a partner that depended on each other, and here Sakura was continuing to keep that promise, while Sasuke stole moments of happiness and bailed when he had to face the consequences. Suddenly remembering their sunset conversation the last time he had returned after leaving, Sasuke felt a fresh stab to his consciousness as he recalled her statement: “a part of partnership is communication.”

Sasuke slowly made his way toward the village gates. When he passed through the canyon-like entrance, people greeted him with “good mornings” while others stared openly at him. Their gazes were a little different, warmer, and Sasuke wondered if his teammate’s influence in the hospital had something to do with his newreception in Sunagakure now.

Feeling even more ashamed, Sasuke resolved himself for his female companion’s wrath and made a straight line for the hospital.

When he entered the hospital’s double doors, Sasuke came upon a scene that made his stomach drop into his feet. Kankuro, who was haggard from exhaustion, and had apparently returned sometime in the night, was fisting the collar of a hospital staff member.

“What do you mean they’re not here?” he bristled. “If she’s not in her rooms, then she should be here. Where’s Mako? Where’s the kid?”

“I don’t know sir,” came the panicked response from the employee, terrified to be facing the Kazekage’s right-hand man. “I’m sure they’re in the village somewhere.”

Hearing those words had Sasuke acting before thinking and the Uchiha rushed forward to fist the shirt of the same medic. “Are you talking about Sakura?” His eyes darted between the both of them and Kankuro’s grip released from the startled staff’s shirt in the same moment he shoved Sasuke’s own hand away.

“Where the hell have you been?” Kankuro accused icily, and a fire Sasuke didn’t even know he had left in him, surged from his throat in anger.

“What the hell is happening?” he demanded, taking another step toward the puppet wielder.

Kankuro pinched his nose in frustration, then beheld him in shock. “You mean Sakura isn’t with you?”

Sasuke eyes widened in immediate response, an answer refusing to form on his lips. Instead, he shouted, “You don’t know where she is?!”

Kankuro frowned deeper at his sudden animosity. “She hasn’t been seen since yesterday morning,” he explained quickly. “The innkeeper said she never came back to the inn. Mako, another medic, and Sakura’s young patient are missing too.”

Sasuke didn’t wait for any further explanation before he began sprinting up the stairs to the second floor of the hospital, the filter for his behavior now completely removed. Let everyone think what they want! That bastard! When Sasuke got ahold of Mako, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Sasuke’s feet were unusually heavy and his breath labored as he continued climbing to the third floor toward the medicine preparation room they had occupied together only recently.

“Sakura?!” He kicked open the door and furiously searched the vacant room with his eyes. After seeing no one, Sasuke stared at the empty couch where they had sat so close to one another the night before last. As if his memory of her there could recall her, Sasuke gazed openly at it, breathing hard.

Having followed the Uchiha, Kankuro appeared in the door behind him. “We’ve already checked the hospital. She isn’t here. We need to check the rest of the village, quickly!”

She couldn’t be missing. Was she really with that assistant of hers or that child? Were they off somewhere else doing something medical, or were they truly missing? Shit. Shit. Shit.

He turned on Kankuro in his unnerved rage. Sasuke wanted to demand where they had been, he and the Kazekage, but Sasuke remembered that Sakura had told him that they were investigating trouble near the border. He cursed himself again for being selfish and leaving her here alone.

As if reading his thoughts, Kankuro explained, “I was sent back by the Kazekage in the night. He is handling a situation regarding the ninja Sakura said ambushed you both in Tanigakure. The incidents were apparently related.”

“What do you mean?” Sasuke suddenly asked, a deep and cutting sensation coming over Sasuke that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time: fear.

Kankuro looked down and away from him, debating on how much to reveal. “With some unmentionable methods, we were finally able to find out who their target was,” he finally informed with a sigh. His eyes rose to meet Sasuke’s and the Uchiha saw the same raw fear mirrored in Kankuro’s eyes. “It’s Sakura.”

At the very moment that Sasuke’s knees felt like collapsing beneath his weight, the same staff member that the two ninja had threatened seconds before, came running into the room, panting heavily from having hiked the floors.

“Come quickly,” he urged between breaths, turning immediately to run back down the steps. “Isao has returned.”

Kankuro made eye contact with the Uchiha before they both bolted back down the stairs, taking two and three steps at time. Sasuke cursed his lack of chakra that kept him from just teleporting downstairs.

Sitting in a chair, the child clutched his side. Sasuke noticed that he kept trying to rise, but the staff held him down as they tried to bandage a wound on his arm. Deep purple finger marks circled around the child’s neck like a collar.

“Not me! Her! Go find her, please!” he shouted as he struggled against them.

“Calm down boy,” a woman medic urged. “We have to staunch the flow of blood from your arm.” The child looked at his wound as if he didn’t even know it had been there.

When Isao caught sight of Sasuke and Kankuro, he started to cry. “HELP! Please help!” he shouted, and they quickly moved to hover over the child. Kankuro suddenly kneeled before him, taking the gauze from the medic and wrapped the child’s arm himself as he questioned.

“Speak kid,” Kankuro urged, “What is going on?”

“Miss Haruno,” he choked between tears. “She’s still out there! Please, we have to go!”

Before Kankuro could ask the child why, Sasuke did something appalling, an act that Sakura would be disappointed in him for. His sharingan flashed bright, soaking up the last of his chakra like a sponge, and he caught the panicked child’s stare in his own crimson and purple one.

Just as he had to Isao’s father, Sasuke stepped into the child’s memories. Isao’s recollections were almost too overwhelming for Sasuke to handle at the moment, each image dripping with the fear in which young ones saw the ninja world. There was also bravery in them and familial concern for the pink-haired kunoichi. Sasuke skipped through the memories like speeding up a film, an act that made his head throb in pain. He didn’t care about his own state at the moment though, seeking the green-eyed face of the woman he had come to love.

There. Isao’s most recent memory Sakura was of her telling him “to go get help.” Sasuke didn’t have time to go back further and he let the memories play out from that point, mapping the child’s nighttime desert sprint, hours long, from the empty desert back to the gates of the village.

Not needing to explore the child’s mind further, he released Isao and they both gasped. Sasuke clutched his eye, ignoring the angry glare on Kankuro’s face. He didn’t care about Kankuro’s morals or even the child’s shocked state at that moment. There was only one thing he cared about. He would let the child explain the details to Kankuro; Sasuke didn’t have the time to explain things to Kankuro. Instead, the Uchiha did the unthinkable, playing the very dangerous game of popping another chakra pill into his mouth as he sprinted out the hospital doors.

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