#the image of who she was when she was removed from the caverns. and it’s the way they’ve atrophied just a bit at the ends so there’s a bit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fintan-pyren · 2 months

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Sometimes, life is busy. You shouldn't let that stop you from enjoying a good book, but who has the time to read the same words over and over again?

For your enjoyment and convenience, I have removed all duplicate words from the first Keeper of the Lost Cities book.

blurry fractured memories swam through sophie’s mind but she couldn’t piece them together tried opening her eyes and found only darkness something rough pressed against wrists ankles refusing to let move a wave of cold rushed as the horrifying realization dawned was hostage cloth across lips stifled cry for help sedative’s sweet aroma stung nose when inhaled making head spin were they going kill would black swan really destroy their own creation what point project moonlark then everblaze drug lulled toward dreamless oblivion fought back clinging one memory that could shine tiny spot light in thick inky haze pair beautiful aquamarine fitz’s first friend new life ever maybe if hadn’t noticed him day museum none this have happened no knew it’d been too late even white fires already burning curving city filling sky with sticky smoke spark before blaze miss foster mr sweeney’s nasal voice cut blaring music he yanked earbuds out by cords you decided you’re smart pay attention information sophie forced open not wince bright fluorescents reflected off vivid blue walls amplifying throbbing headache hiding sweeney mumbled shrinking under glares now staring classmates pulled shoulder-length blond hair around face wishing hide behind it exactly kind went way avoid why wore dull colors lurked blocked other kids who at least foot taller than survive twelve-year-old high school senior perhaps can explain listening your ipod instead following along held up like evidence crime though probably he’d dragged class natural history balboa park assuming his students be excited about all-day field trip didn’t seem realize unless giant dinosaur replicas came started eating people cared tugged loose eyelash nervous habit stared feet there make understand needed cancel noise hear chatter from dozens tourists echoed fossil-lined splashed cavernous room mental voices real problem scattered disconnected pieces thoughts broadcast straight into brain being hundreds tvs different shows same time sliced consciousness leaving sharp pains wake freak secret burden since fell hit five years old she’d blocking ignoring nothing helped never tell anyone wouldn’t you’ve above lecture don’t give asked pointed enormous orange duckbill center how lambeosaurus differs dinosaurs we’ve studied repressed sigh flashed an image card front display glanced entered photographic recorded every detail recited facts twisted scowl classmates’ grow increasingly sour weren’t fans resident child prodigy called curvebuster finished answer grumbled sounded know-it-all stalked exhibit next over follow thin separating two rooms block muffled grabbed little relief nice job superfreak garwin chang boy wearing t-shirt said i’m gonna fart sneered shoved past join they’ll write another article child teaches lame-o-saurus still bitter yale had offered full scholarship rejection letter arrived few weeks allowed go parents much pressure young end discussion so attending closer smaller san diego college year fact some annoying reporter newsworthy enough post local paper chooses ivy league complete photo freaked wasn’t strong word more half rules unnecessary front-page articles pretty worst nightmare they’d newspaper complain editor seemed unhappy story run place on arsonist terrorizing trying figure mistake bizarre white-hot flames smelled burnt sugar took priority everything especially unimportant girl most ignore or used caught sight tall dark-haired reading yesterday’s embarrassing black-and-white looked seen particular shade teal smooth sea glass beach glittered flickered expression gaze disappointment decide shrugged leaning closed distance between smile belonged movie screen heart did weird fluttery thing is pointing picture nodded feeling tongue-tied fifteen far cutest talking i thought squinted brown uh yeah sure say reason felt conversation accent british somehow crisper which bothered know are suck words soon left mouth course boys cute made mushy perfect returned told hulking greenish standing albertosaurus all its lizardesque glory me do think that’s it’s absurd

isn’t see saw small t rex: big teeth ridiculously short arms fine laughed i’ll get meet turned leave just classes kindergartners barreled fossil crushing screaming knock step whole realm pain kids’ stinging high-pitched needles many once angry porcupine attacking hands darted rubbing temples ease stabbings skull remembered alone reaction locked forehead pained imagined seconds hushed blood drain mean created plenty racket shrieks squeals giggles plus sixty individual chattering away gasped solved earlier everyone boy’s distinct accented speaking totally completely silent possible whispered widened moved whisper telepath flinched skin itch gave can’t believe backed exit reveal total stranger okay holding sort wild animal calm afraid froze my name’s fitz added stepping name searching sign part joke joking thinking wobbled spent seven find someone else world tilted sideways steady here looking twelve we better question: want air jerked bolted door stumbling shaky legs rhythm sucked breaths ran down stairs burned lungs bits ash flew ignored wanted space strange come shouted picked pace raced courtyard base steps wide fountain grassy knolls sidewalk got inside because poor quality footsteps gaining wait pouring energy sprint fighting urge glance shoulder halfway crosswalk sound screeching tires reminded both ways terrified driver struggling stop car plowed right die second blur swerved missing inches jumped curb sideswiped streetlight heavy steel lantern cracked plummeted instincts hand shot pulling strength somewhere deep gut pushing fingertips force collide falling gripping extension arm dust settled floated feel weighed ton put familiar warned bringing trance shrieked dropped without hurtled watch yanking split crashed ground impact knocked tumbled body broke fall landed chest stretched flurry questions swirling coherent idea sat replaying sense need witnessed miracle tighten panic let’s overwhelmed plan resist street reached intersection north zoo where crowd during firestorm running missed hearing changed terrifying scenarios involved government agents throwing dark vans experiments watched road ready bolt anything suspicious zoo’s massive parking lot relaxed outside milling cars happen witnesses slowed walk breath promise sincere easier opened hesitated supposed am trust won’t considered father sent specific age observe report always talk frowned disappointed himself does means expected threw what’s wrong touched eyelids suddenly selfconscious figured again awe us stopped whoa hang ‘one us’ frowning spotted fanny-pack-wearing within earshot deserted corner ducking green minivan there’s easy we’re human stunned speak hysterical laugh escaped repeated shaking riiiiiight insane trusting kicked stomped telling truth minute last listen plea humans vanished gone reeling leaned argued taking clear set pole minutes ago almost three managed finally saying alien erupted laugher cheeks grew hot also relieved compose elf hung foreign object belong visions tights pointy ears danced giggling expect guess stick wavy spikes rock star good crazy agreed refused serious frodo ring save middle-earth toys hid corners showed oh ought folded slender silver wand intricate carvings etched sides tip round crystal sparkled sunlight magic asking rolled actually pathfinder spun latch top dangerous you’ll faded depends take concentrate matter happens proof prove whisk land curious harm someone’s willed palms sweat fingers laced stupid tingled everywhere scanning warning look scowled bit tongue concentrated racing seriously become those silly girls counted raising facet beam refracted tightened grip forward warm tingling million feathers swelling underneath tickling giggle melted goo keeping oozing blanket warmth wrapped faster blink eye might squeaked stood edge glassy river lined impossibly trees fanning emerald leaves among puffy clouds row castles walt disney throw rocks kingdom golden path led sprawling elaborate domed buildings built brick-size jewels each structure color snowcapped mountains surrounded lush valley crisp cool

cinnamon chocolate sunshine places exist less appear forgotten released realized hard squeezing unable castle towers oddly our capital call eternalia heard shangri-la lost cities you’d stories rarely ridiculous things elves burst quiet gentle breeze brushing soft murmur traffic hammering unspoken very silence rising tiptoes view streets ghost town building towered others stones emeralds banner flying tribunal progress everyone’s watching proceedings council basically royalty holds broken law they’re deal laws well shook wrap cringing question funniest glared funny regained control try cling remaining strands sanity sun casting ray onto leaping hitched ride headed impossible infinite travel haven’t theory relativity stumped dumbest i’ve albert einstein huh dumb argue confident unnerving harder waited feather sensation dryer scattering directions until rubber band later shivering ocean whipping glowed carved moonlight failed passed bring herself true science book read confused observed ‘hey learned smug grin best minds begin comprehend complexities reality elves’ ahead slowest trump proper education shoulders sagged sank four scenery blurred whether tears entire lie nudged hey fault believed taught i’d done works bells chimed large gateway floor-length velvet capes draped tunics emerged followed creatures marching military formation rocky pants muscles prominently flat noses coarse gray pleated folds armadillo goblins signed treaty hating trembling dressed forbidden lumenaria worlds gnomes dwarves ogres trolls mentioning focused motioned farther squatting betrayed ancient councillors intelligent rule planning war ancients violence disappeared forbid any contact devices working defend race famine problems chilled frigid wind licking who’d known must’ve after eventually evolved myths simple yes peeked glowing crucial identity clicked spinning thousand loud clang gate stepped shadows sleek cobalt home jolted mom bus bland boring stole incredible blinding swept smoky fresh surprised recognized plain square houses narrow tree-lined house ask lived coughed handle putting pollutes planet these aren’t normal chemical smells usually wildfires smell barbecue melting cotton candy burn rain arsonists admitted pocket hoping notice dad wants knows neither important meant mystery he’s happy careful please shown today thank act family doesn’t suspect squared courage telepaths special ability rarer ones thirteen six months corrected liking youngest manifest start reverberated scanned positive waking hospital moment forget hooked kinds machines hovering shouting barely separate hold happening group adults haunted worry brows narrowed doing extra private keep wall weak hated bossed answering concerned action worked imagining stretching shadow mine blurted pale process hardest worries live fumbled answers long trouble knees link amazing will tomorrow panicked battered cluttered living phone she’s receiver having reeled daggers calling wandering worried police sorry stammered convincing horrible liar scared mom’s anger concern nervously curly guy realizing lies based freaking walked trolley train teacher guard ugh complained closing adult rubbed wrinkle appeared stressed upset safe stand weirdo understood dangers teased tormented bullied deflate wish trailed close rest sister slipped pin painful tight hug welcome honey dinner ten amy upstairs kitchen unease twist stomach worn linoleum pastel tacky knickknacks ordinary glittering kissed cheek shabby briefcase table how’s soybean wink baby apparently pronouncing thousands times lid simmering pots garlic cream filled handed silverware turn crackin’ scooted plopped usual chair nine role mastered opposite lower average grades popularity sisters wondered definitely powers lowered breathing: inhale exhale repeat care nickname dizzy must lay should eat skipping acting fettuccine night favorite rich sauce sudden nausea tug eyelashes chewed bite swallow fork official thanks great homework sprinted bed hiss shattered marty pounding fluffy cat sitting tail slunk settling lap marty’s purring

confront downstairs settle explained blonde chubby brunette screamed throbbed deeper ripped apart blinked related change lots adopted poked brought e l fudges plate cookies milk getting sick palm fever tired cookie stumbled routine crawled blankets wrapping pillow dreams kissing tucked tradition breathe ella yep elephant stuffed sleep tonight um guys hugged tighter hours labor endured switched birth daughter doubt wondering anymore dreamed keebler perfected recipes liked oreos drown vat fudge woke overrated morning quick shower jeans shirt buttery yellow stripes item closet self-conscious wear gold flecks admit clipped toyed lip gloss snuck check crept yard blinking stuck contained next-door neighbor perch middle lawn forkle rearranging garden tableaux nosy checking effect beady bored hers loved sentences complaining 911 obligated gnome fraction inch gives headaches yapping interrupted ball fur streaked barking spandex jogging shorts chased grabbing dog leash clumsy lunge kneeled stroking wild-eyed panting creature drew growled strained mad sister’s hates displaying several halfmoon wounds bleeding scar suppose willing carry blocks seems winked piercing certainly yelled jogger guy’s louder chaos wonder grab drag should’ve trick react stopping tracks side man straightened height quite intimidating ordered glowered promised snorted grumbling moving explaining whenever appearance waiting incident eyewitnesses frustrating confusing bell rang lurking scream demanded loudly heads bad flashing cocky rush blush unanswered tries creepy snatch slow replayed scene remember growling forkle’s quietly quieter we’ll we’d eyeing suspected impending mischief leap english ditch yesterday strangle pull disappearing fail willingly use telepathy brushed whispering pushed further test tested permission assignment frustrated matters invading offense scrunch nod movement nearby oak drowned could’ve sworn jogger’s campus gestured tree either imagine adjusted shouldn’t anyway who’s committee sidelong heat breaking automatically furious enjoyed caused determines grinned future shield surveyed surroundings metal nearly everglen leading doors absorbs directly likes privacy stressful doubted king kong faint click swung inward striking clearing growing midnight cape fastened clasp diamond-encrusted wings lean vibrant resemblance alden introduced bow curtsy shake greet shy pleasure prominent kidding unusual flush smiled embarrassed fire alden’s injury muttered son shared kidnapping considering such might’ve paranoid has touch rude assure love kidnapper searched reassure kindness agree placed gently jacket ticked indeed fascinating sounding triumphant perfectly specifically nexus forgot covered dug cuff coat clamped bracelet wrist twisting fit snug comfortable accessory single jewel rectangle symbols letters spelled gibberish odd decorate finality safety precaution break particles carried concentration circumstances bare early fools overestimate skills fade cautious answered lose yourself able fully reform pulls forever goose bumps dimple cleared throat prefer reproving send mission collect long-lost guests wiped blooming red pink purple rainbow perfume flowers dizzying testing qualify foxfire paused fungus insulted prestigious academy named represents glow darkened comes ‘fungus’ strongest talent kiss goodbye excuse proud attend accomplishment earliest levels develops abilities continue studies elvin sneak work knowingly chills mixed night’s troubling revelation sickening councillor bronte difficult impress feels upbringing lack disqualify surprises existed miffed votes squat brown-skinned huge tended fairy tale plants slantways shuffled carrying basket twinkling fruit guessing pictured men hats statues servants stare choose safer gardens enjoy privileged taste gnomish produce lunch treat dig slimy tubers slugs hoped menu peeled meadow elegant manor entirely intricately numerous turrets gables rose tower resembled lighthouse braided foyer prism widest hallway fountains spouted streams colored water hall dead-ended encrusted jeweled mosaic

diamond unicorns amethyst spoke wealth squeezed formal dining sheer silk curtains drawing chandelier waterfall shimmering crystals platters fancy goblets figures jewel-encrusted circlets plush thronelike chairs surrounding curtsied necks clasps keys horribly underdressed fabrics except disguise kenric oralie football player toothy princess rosy ringlets met smallest cropped features finger pairs floor laughter squirmed joined pleased shape it’ll transformed noticing autorepeat: scooting oralie’s one’s died yet hurt immortal trace sorrow bodies aging reach adulthood wrinkles belongs yourselves guest uncovered grimace strips glop goop tasted juiciest cheeseburger stuff mashed carnissa root umber leaf tastes chicken animals tone ate toxic waste squirming grimaced vegetarians horror vegetables cheeseburgers tells swallowed mouthful thud discussing openly respond kenric’s jaws dry remembering warnings stay begun eight pass mentioned learn relax bronte’s icy gust common announced jaw flushing chagrined incredulous impenetrable key sentence ‘almost breached guilt conscience sounds infallible thinks likely exceptionally lift weight telekinesis recovering embarrassment shrank goblet accident raised lifting invisible scoffed unimpressed limitations unlike physical confidence clue giving blew pretending imaginary extend sharper worth saucers applauded excellent praise couple glasses determined stronger ounce core empty collective gasp including breathed celebrate cramped strain knocking thunderous collision open-mouthed shock hollered sealed clapped language guys’ enlightened leaped instinctive interesting babbling teasing noisy gripped ‘soybean’ mispronouncing blushed chuckled beside dusting waved insisted sighed suldreen stretch line rare species bird puzzle solve uncomfortable coincidence convince decision barked shoving moonlarks vote otherwise fight favor final fragile lovely empath emotions extended grasped delicate fear confusion sincerity describe azure settles revisited till adjust invoke demand probe planned arranged quinlin busy decipher fun training looks iffy ‘bothered’ dad’s reluctant emptiness exploded choked saving colder implications ditched stall punishment atlantis nowhere patch white-capped waves signs seagulls screech poop hardly continent tide pool triangular slip slick shoes match gown begged status noble members nobility offices empire waist beaded neckline dress costume seeing clothes: tunic embroidery edges pockets sewn sleeves exact size sit boots completed thankfully knowing biana comparison changing subject ledge engineered catastrophe compartment revealing bottles label bottle whirlpool uncorked flung blast whipped faces roar churning ladies suggested worse gulped maelstrom beneath salty sprayed jump push count dignity drowning flailing idiot formed tunnel dipping weaving craziest waterslide starting launched vortex sponge licked toe pack kittens minus kitten sprang cushion smoothed wet incoming rocketed slightly squishy packed sand gleaming metropolis dome beyond soared skyline bathing radiating spires network canals interconnected arched bridges pictures venice modern clean despite bottom underwater muted hum background seashell ear build stores power precisely amount changes plated reflect firelight illuminate sink wandered shops renaissance fair women’s gowns shifted advertised two-for-one specials bottled lightning fast approval spyball applications strolled hybrid chicken-lizard invented main canal hailed carriages floating almond-shaped boat rows high-backed benches elbow-length steered bench reins skimming surface eight-foot-long scorpion deadly pincers reared curled sting eurypterid stroked shiny shell eurypterid’s slice emitting low hissing petted harmless carriage quinlin’s yours fiber mutant insect doom probed gritted pressing hideous sonden’s office thrashed heebie-jeebies commute while secure needs protection file highly classified business district windows tracing bearing names treasury registry interspeciesial services unreadable random strings runes nonsense writing

alphabet clueless chin jumble nah affected gap kid option country tests dropping member broad kelp ornamentation precise read: sonden: chief mentalist cube swiped elbow ping assurances humiliating bypassed receptionist dim damp stone desk dark-skinned chin-length seat ceremony unique understatement squirm handing lick dna unsanitary tiniest hologram center: rotating unearthly breathing prentice sacrificed double helixes sacrifice reasons fears hundred seventy-eight murmured began pacing invaded she’ll greatest keeper older midstep record share trained charge protecting currently hidden karaoke game sing off-key notes clearly eavesdropping strip slid winding stairway climbed oval footage brush projected chill aerial southern california lines circle area images deepened valleys ruled reflections note interrupting communicate waving warn turning overreacting glancing shuddered desperate kidnapper’s threatened easily implied nameless faceless entity quickly threatening authorities would’ve shivered accelerant chemicals leads lighting spilling oil blowing investigate council’s position here: takes visit babysitter decent equally spying steam secrecy existence discovered hoax search updated slight bypassing distracted evillooking matches keepers lagoon glint shimmery dunes lake west shore statue topped hollow iridescent film shimmered loop apparatus resemble bubble lifted clung shrieking levitate forming touching bubble’s rumble coming geyser shoot eleven crash below bobbed where’s scary pure joy popped whisked glaring gates flash strode olive contrast youth shone nerve summoning personal shorter intimidated difference sooner exiled clench fists backward tiergan aware opinion summoned convinced tiergan’s fierce crumbled crossing expert inventory widening whatever foxfire’s newest mentor puppy officially weirding becomes provide retired given persuaded return resentment mixture surprise hone assistance reasonable restrictions pretend opportunity silencing bet terrible mood mumbling mostly irresponsible manage choice benefit stares notify dame alina returning kept bruise meantime session listed remedial schedule lessons dummies correct assumption warmed tuesday brilliant panel everglen’s grounds sessions study student subjects one-on-one nerves one-onone succeed mention level grade relearning self-doubt heavier fragmented disappear explanation aside pleasant dis arguing overstuffed armchairs woman squealed snickered wife della pinched gesturing dear vanishers smiling musical hint della’s beauty tossed pursed heart-shaped parents’ combined gangly troll interceded borrow errands frumpy files requested denied request approve grady edaline case torn radiant parcels strobe unwrapped packages clasped cord neck choker pendant elf-y anytime fund’s activated fund register money standard dollars lusters laughing luster dollar crinkled ew insult afford differently limited seventy eighty makes sad curved window overlooking silvery floor-to-ceiling aquarium wingback facing piled books scrolls anxiety remind stacks newspapers circled crossed news removed drawer theories irritation super stuttered discuss faced solution allow ours they’ve effective immediately too-simple accept kick constant discovery longer unbearable loneliness friends grasping overwhelm areas access severely restricted dead deciding gravestones became vivid: grave tearstained draw suffer struck complicated relocated jobs erase tear obvious believing shutting function erased armchair scrubbed forbade sob occurred risking twenty alert plans clothes sees wiping focus bent unshed horrors cringed buried trembled bouncing busted eavesdrop grounded hugging worrying pouted pettiness bratty obnoxious pain-in-the-butt embrace struggles play daughters mouths senses hook hurry daze rememorize room: dusty available quilt mother tripped furry crouching releasing pathetic meow disk sleeping gas release drugging physically ill backpack slung giggled elizabeth clutching anywhere couch fingered ordering thirty crumpled burying recognize crouched smearing drool snot drugged sobs

overcame jerk washers bags regret bear slept finish hawaiian family’s limp determination taken fourteen cried assured stranglehold haunting gets hope personally oversee relocation flared wrung guardians title selected enthusiasm strangers elwin’s blue-crystaled temptation shiver raked bones orphan conservatory lead backyard security choosing saved ache suffering gift raise ended abandoned wipe elwin physician medical hate doctors brave regular nightmares brief stays struggled dragging direction drop free implying biana’s glare escape punch bathed gigantic glued cushioned cot syringe goes fidget spectacles scientist snapped painless orb flasher manipulate skilled orem vacker show eclipse biggest celebrations traditions damage permanent tensed food chance innocent cells dashing depending orbs squinting lenses stunningly lit dramatic expecting toxins research rifled satchel vials liquids major detox braced medicine syrups nectar unknown fruits tingly drink youth legends enzymes essential health refreshing downed contents gulp drank medicines list follow-up checkup whistled sometimes heated lame stinky stegosaurus shame horrified production wimp doctor phobia jumping needle strap bunch shots allergic how’d concrete nine-one-one unconscious genes kicking trigger bedroom canopied chandeliers room’s gotten deserve ruined chanting mantra shut pajamas tuck asleep belonging alive twenty-five catch breakfast clock shop furniture detoxes materializing clutched ghostly exotic heartbreaker fitted glamorous shopping explosion behold wardrobe outfits extras pick beat-up sparkly casual packing leaked days unpack hungry knotted sadly dampened preserve havenfield exciting jolie deny loss wonderful booming fenced-in pastures spread scrambled versions rehabilitation centers sanctuary protected trap nessie artist endangered gorillas lions mammoths extinct thriving herd woolly colonies saber-toothed tigers slack exists rob qualities provides thrive feeding hunt diet steep cliffs caves flower-lined using ropes lasso lizard neon beast protest drama queen husky male commanded beast’s heave feat twice snaarrll bucked guardian lunged tangled writhed losing balance verdi tyrannosaurus comments meeting jaculus winged serpent feeds support contain bloodsucking snake claws snout tremble lowering fangs glinted slobber motioning glimpse dinosaur-riding chiseled feather-covered james bond robin hood balding relate handsome feathery banged pet rub rex’s stayed docile unblinking separated verdi’s wound plugged slime death rot tuna fish combination kelpie dung bites jar swear edaline’s grady’s wary compared palatial estate mansion standards columns cupola roof entryway central upper floors cascaded ceiling wispy fabric turquoise amber curls similar circles fluff presentable rex picking playing rodeo cowboy nope wash staircase sadness lingered tea mallowmelt insist gooey cake fresh-baked chip soaked ice frosting butterscotch dripping hasty slices served nook grazing linens painted china homesick woken lushberry juice pop possessed conjurer form teleporting objects coolest unfortunately scraggly slurps burps letting friend’s ached grieve fished imparter simply strangled pounded reassuring deafening third star-shaped dangled glittery weaved carpet scent canopy occupied dressing bookshelves brightly volumes bathroom bathtub swimming biting awesome assumed jolie’s tour awkward delicious soupy pizza unpacking wrinkled scrapbook wherever welled remnants dried sixteen sunrise streaks blending mirror darken awake finishing hovered doorway interrupt riser shades clap bruises conjured bowl spoon banana bread tempted impose sloppy handwriting upside symbol corner: bird’s beak tickled babble scare extremely documents cipher moisture particularly believable prescribed drawn eager fidgeting ruffles simplest bought hi kesler groaned island mysterium identical mold vendors spices sweets buzzed crowded sidewalks working-class social rank ‘talent simpler correspondingly unfair born lesser lives type designed village avoiding whispers ruewen pretended different

store crooked nursery rhyme burps: merry apothecary belched maze shelves pills laboratory beakers bubbling burners rainbow-colored lab skinny tousled strawberry periwinkle blob tubes add amarallitine dex tongs vial experiment poured beaker sparked plume dirty gag concoction exclaimed hello ‘hello impersonation sludge eda scrap sheet kesler’s brother-in-law nephew practically monday al freaks dimples burped beanpole hooded cloak vika annoyance handiwork written girl’s bald scalp meanwhile stina ’cause twitched battling sell solutions sasquatch dent bony appendages children throttle hairoids stock week wailed ogre wicked misses responsible friendly rage here’s spat helping customers potent hat flinch useless buy countered retort stina’s oooh slammed fist timkin heks helps situation traditional absolutely brings stuffy nobles happier grinning mess tweak supplies armful worktable sneaky beard dex’s evil mortar pestle teach tingle attempt fifty-seven solo property collapse practiced checked displayed sliver percent chose he’ll hawk mentors monitor weakness expelled pushes transferred exillium swallowing bile mounting attack messy juline riveted gossip interruption interest hilarious bookshelf mounted cover camera summer flipping pages naked mouse suit disneyland dizznee photos honestly movies outlets flipped technology solar powered rifling sir conley’s luck lady galvin highest rate rig calming flooded seventeen gadgets chimes arrive uniform skirt leggings shirt-vest-cape combo laceup jerkin long-sleeved slacks waist-length superhero captain blueberry rescue meaning order demonstrate rid wimpy halcyon mastodons mascot birds storm mastodon ceremonies costumes glad idiots appealing crest triangle heart: scarlet eagle soaring talons chemistry equipment theirs adopting adoption adopt temporary enrollment manticore themselves parties dies span cope calmed orphans wylie whose recover connection blames wylie’s hanging leapmaster 500 lucky authorized 250 tons rotated five-story pyramid sharply angled u stained seventh amphitheater extensive fields grass hopelessly prodigies uniforms building’s finding ducked starts orientation principal reads announcements attendance collar track peal close-up stunning porcelain caramel-colored foremost whoever reekrod weekend mark punished fullest extent threat dangle continued detect ah spotlight hissed viper’s nest ssssssophie hole crawl concludes today’s nearest exception divided wing banners bore midflight halls quad throughout sparkling sapphire chatted doorways lining atrium spectacle creating marked rune locker mirrored lock uses gross faculty picks flavors pepper sneeze croak yelped stench rotten eggs dash diaper muskog wheezy snicker whirled towering mass frizzy cackling hags stalking hairs shave earth serum friday retorted raven swishing behavior phasers ashamed apologize obviously spend detention alexine stinks beet minions kinda frog fumes catching jensi rapid-fire speech talked buckets redder instructed honest ‘human girl’ ‘sophie’ whim elementalism pride backtracked twists turns drops warped wooden session’s zapped ‘zapped’ thunderclap eighteen tray electrocuted quiver conley hitting fluted botched sending tornado tornadoes mastering elements entering foods series stalls court mall recognizable eaten tables cafeteria whom discourage joining verge perceptible message clear: focusing bigger jensi’s acne braces fairly slicked greasy ponytails drooled setting bang c’mon dude unison ‘e’ duh drooly volunteered singed universe daunting exaggerated messing ‘dude’ killing explode cough pixielike rescuing tossing petite balled braids suicide overeager marella mare nicknames obeyed enemies honored pucker licorice lemon fan prettypants rather grumpy brat brother’s dreamy willpower copying sip looped defending dizznees triplets says ‘bad match’ genetically incompatible inferior aunt uncle superstrange celebrities famous vackers superimportant marella’s sympathy grandma heartbroken helpless veins hopeless cases guarantee scooping mammoth shudder awful afternoon feared astronomical

learning astin whispery complex maps planetarium effortless excelled hour survived approaching dragon hateful invited feelings letters: extinguished stuffing fill animosity deck ‘nice uncanny royal highness bothers remembers talented ‘deck beaming nineteen thursday disaster goal sandwiched colosseum pe vanity near door: sneakers ponytail owned ship slap reply lasted compare redek squish may fool stops idle threats grouped twos tromps manifested fifty-fifty manifesting mysterious remark required variable reign terror ‘everyone’ impressive jolt supervise caton titan god informed channeling supereasy channel parts body: heights speeds normally unimpressive attempts threes bumped defense appetite startled spaceship unremarkable studying superintently snapping scraping probing concept unsettling establish forcing eighty-seven puckered brow assume cheerful scraped intended drained steadying suggest ethics attached meganeura exercise annoy fidgeted cocked wanna buzzing dived vulture-size dragonflies patted freaky-looking bug blown gargantuan proportions creepiest disco balls grown monster enclosure phys ed intense emergency weirdest part: proven trustworthy receive assignments lectured responsibility detecting discover elite avoided mesmer nauseated wow sheesh inflicting curiosity won causes dara lecture: pyramids tidal army hairy hollowing himalayas strangest mumble creeped exile interested dying supertalented fundamental guilty underground eternity ruin fluke churned abandoning illegal washer alter dump brother secluded sorted reminding effort flavored flumes spritzed shove disturbing failing smirked alchemy pupil encouraging cracking melody ominous ingredients trophies gilded items pointy-toed suspiciously midas milky liquid dancing rushing rustle red-brown updo hunter silky decorated patterns swished slightest alkahest universal solvent stored itself dissolves wood flesh taxes substance alchemist wise teaching masters tincture poultice basic serums yellowed box flask jars iron transmuting metals recipe formula labeled instructions fiddled rechecked mistakes plunged whip fizzed rumbled jelly galvin’s exquisite dissolved luxurious damaged salvage welt healing ma’am murder retrieve afterward muttering incompetence flunk sprawled hallways stark ditching keefe gulon disheveled untucked popular belva crush blame 90 certain paid accidentally cue epic alina’s ugly crying treated whiter phobia consisted rooms: treatment beds brewing physician’s paperwork slinky scurried bullhorn demented ferret banshee adorable fellow dramatically wanting seize mmm-hmm acid mimed effects destroyed salve measured whap wash present laughs clarification confirming twenty-one embellished version destruction joked bottling anwen multispeciesial 324 faxon metaphysics complimented requests brown-eye create overnight granted incredibly challenging explosions occurrence unlearn lifetime knowledge levitating rainbows constantly messed highlight skill effortlessly amazed unwanted transmit else’s psychic photograph needing patient plague suspicion snotty maruca i-hate-sophiefoster club reaching growl jealous prettiest bedlam subdue chasing rabbits antlers swinging trunk lump verminion pen boosted mammoth’s trumpeted earthshaking squeal ringing mound timid twig hiiiissssssssssss uncurled rodent bulging hamsters rottweiler-size hamsterzilla trample japanese hamster cooed snaarrrlll impressed chase steer dashed catches fifty stupidest clod mud nailed grooowwwwllll fatal flaw pinned grunted press snarling squeeze verminion’s unlocked assortment spewed whined pile gloves shed trade trudged oversize squirrels rats identify burlap sack quivering snarl steeled shriek batlike heaved wool scratches leg outbuildings carefully organized veterinarian’s laid sterile spreading limbs smeared eyedropper dripped creature’s rewarded squeaky rumbling crackly purr smiles cage barrel soapy chain-sawesque snores vibrating brattail tuber sausage imp guessed six-inch venomous stings snoring vicious describing tame yetis outnumbered conked chipper iggy strand swell

generous hugs touches gestures glistened dubious trails twenty-two sharing congested warthog roommate snuggly sleepless spoil caring ultimate splotching championship sacks cheered sympathetic secretly celebrating partnered naturally teamed splotcher splattered loses winners person wins marks smugly win splotch splat deserved colorful prize contest pardon hopes wonderboy gagging rounds beat opponent knots backing aim ow raw telekinetic flushed compliment disqualifies pumped victory hotter cheering opponents experience duel beginner’s talents mighty competition grumblings battle odds experienced evidently four: sixes trella dempsey paired hopeful muster bested winner fluttered appears competitors betraying butt preference keefe’s chant ladies’ float clenched adrenaline surged audience back-up splotches rebound phenomenon weightless collided simultaneous fate collapsed twenty-three placing compress wincing muscle injured whermiwhahapped worse: laying banshees mortal danger stirred lucid winced stiff glands zinged collected rebounded bounce specialized hammered controls actual mix matched draining practice evenly awfully sidelines wobbling auditorium applause teensy annoyed copied blushing elbowing ribs tie protested declared excused lesson rejoin splotchers acted delivered p congratulations confirm bath lathering bathers soggy instinctively besides creased drive twenty-four meter one-third younger that’d wonderboy’s precious midterms score seventy-five recommend nissa tutoring consider tutor projection gagged flavor yell daily tore prattle chewy caramel peanut butter pouch cracker jack horse mane prattles’ unicorn pins collection examined digital 122 185 number eighty-five super-rare bitterness vaguely compute unexpected development century too-little-too-late branch other’s replaced beeline simultaneously sniff aw stuck-up snob wasted invite humiliate walking ambush capable teeniest details clanged cricket chirped embroidered satin sash wringing exhaled seeming makeovers wrestling polite fortunately braid flutter dirt pitter-patter eh sayin’ shooting quest grateful team jealousy guarded raid questers tagged sentry tabs isolate general nail targets listened softer instantly presence tremendous connected forest thundered vision racked credible crashing bushes partner deceive insists hasn’t secrets toes staying chain apologizing visitors sulking funk snipe wagged there’ve weekly jokes havenfield’s defied exams panicking passing guide narrowing shipped exam brass copper transmutations ideas challenges thwarted spilled gashrooms reek pored frozen cause shattering cheated accomplished cheat ideal dreading twenty-six tri-angular apex streamed pane angle reflection examining confessed forgave neutral violated ethical regulations expulsion suggesting argument ruling obey flourish bother violating reporting stifle closely icily respect authority advises wedding flapped nor pointless cheating tolerated huffed regrets confess serve minimum assigning becoming theme slipping unnoticed what’d gloomy atmosphere desks thumbs-up siren song appreciation art nature clapping earsplittingly shrill whine whale nails chalkboard toddler uncover broadening horizons claiming repentant company brand torture ballroom belva’s sirens dances edwardian claimed valin ponytailed promenade dancers valin’s sweaty chime stars shined brighter spit wickedly slobbery octaves fanned hmm irritated flattered scored points empathy forked smirk ironing holes stack detained increased practicing leaps eyebrow empaths powerful mundane purification vein easiest transmutation lockers traded twenty-seven banging annoyingly caps disqualified chorus groans nonstop cap smurf amalgam telepathic integrity wrote essay betrayal over debate automatic 100 last-minute mentally repeating tips negative vibes stress ethic claim fame skipped skip supportive doubting brag mercifully stalled magenta berries rusty discipline chosen purify ruckleberries fifty-five nasty impurities elderly human’s alchemists methods dive knife pierced berry dribbled pinky haggard glacial quarters

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tiptoed rustled creaked padding crawling lonely forgive forty cheer stricken envelope headline: claims victims scrawl announcement corridor stark-white gulps sneaking suggestions weigh resolve admirer flood applying replacement heal eased uncertainty brothers recent discoveries recording spy undetected textbook dreaded licensed pathfinders restriction threatens ‘everblaze’ accusation fintan pricked balefire fintan’s requires fuel supported cosmic ‘fire ignite conclusive example surveillance ruining depths former dealing approved overrule objection trusted phantom rebels snatched emissary citizen confidential duly noted digging forty-one partly imprisoned sorting reminders pity tension distant lately preparing prejudice megacrush cave commands successful method unwrapping names: connor kate natalie freeman apply permit huddled thinner echoes evacuee note’s unquenchable abandon supporter afar forty-two stashed drawers ‘you threaten chaperone global dumped significance supplied clothing resistant fly willful punish facets stagger hills screeched tying pried displays seals survival glinting corneas swoop thickest raspy coughs locate singeing shift current overcome coughing inferno ouch thrashing clouded watery beads capped treats paced treating scorched angrier contorted squatted pee severe scalding plunked sticky-sweet healthy grim balled-up yelling homes camped affairs mesmerized desperation launching steal dumping tenderness justified reacts offer unintelligible agreeing concerns forty-three relatively illness actress w-what admitting lifeless freaky dumber connections traitorous resisting grasp peace decency furball storm’s appropriate cliff reveling shard clatter soothing relishing pulverized smithereens boulder violent frightened irrational fallen possibly smothered meaty cloaked swooped sickeningly nostrils sedative cursed rallied scuffle scuttled captor circulation rasped viselike lolled rescued forty-four bonds staging unfortunate complication fog scrambling muddled funerals pendants vise sweetness blackness necessary loomed constricted heaving choking gruff hyperventilating suffocates coated hacking nods croaked relocate stolen grunt syllable drugs mist strapped bound shivers eerie breathy wheeze venom trail gumption predicament footfalls disposed disappearance guts throb ignorant cackle toy reserve widen contorting poison ple clarity struggle overwhelming happiness rocked jostling rescuer foggy occasionally elevator altitude delirium parted flimsy fumbling promises caress weary forty-five searing heightened awareness sensory overload barrage cigarette butts alley surveying hideout interrogation kidnappers scoured alexandre desperately operates anyone’s him: upcoming rounded apologized broom peeking roofs yards landmark eiffel gaped graceful paris france french indian saris currency exchange robbing bank machine atm watches account measures ‘make work’ cameras covering buttons alarm bills robbed technopath froster internet café sandwiches cheese once-living boxy computers navigated web browser googled number-one result pont iii bridge seine lanterns shopkeeper sped excitement decorations horizon lamp nexuses lasts mathematics applied dawn forty-six melder stun evening strolls cloaks leader obscurer bends distortion coil rope goons goon pathways underestimate wire enhanced wishful swirl severing rapid duck whizzed seizure dusted flailed gurgling blank forefinger crescent shaped jagged cowl stumble scarred heft frenzy hatred writhing strengthened pumping pulse heavyset figure’s hideouts options battering crushed nearing tug-of-war lessened allowing glorious drift fading surrendered mind’s imagination funeral weariness overtaking hazy snow labored conscious sparkle freedom sweep forty-seven brightness peaceful wove persisted appeal surge newfound pooled aches splintered clearer enveloped strawberry-blond-haired numbing sedated tingles luxuriating gulping wetness numb shhh sniffled recognizing propped girly seasons faltered proves meaningful floppy snickers emergencies conversations flirting scratch

blasts streaking injuries concentration’s cell half-drained gaunt fleeing canceling flitted nuzzling scratched there’d yawned lights forty-eight covers washed sandor goblin bodyguard inflictor paralysis semiconscious incapacitated dormant trauma latent polyglot languages advance interrogated sandor’s bunny seven-foot-tall buffed-out overtime blindfolded seared monitoring proved arrested custody awaiting deaths tragic innocence error motivate condemning madness reluctance single-handedly now’s crescent-shaped recalled epiphany overweight swells digest explains operative guarding subliminal advantage activate developed who’ll address database detectives arson reigned supreme wisest greater questioned decades measure influential amok globe rejected imprison devastated uprooted supporters initiative resign outspoken recruited activity satisfied handled poorly kidnapped prisoner resolved disposal stamped justice voiced revenge birthday birthdays indefinite spans thirteen-year-old crushes plots rebellions grown-ups understands teenager accepted bargain relented insisting uncertain responding arrange forty-nine pedestal charges bylaws sub-bylaws committed transgressions minor tortured regal express safely accused drafting addressed firmly murmurs debated arguments raging attitude disrespectful rebellious overlooked gratitude however static rulers experiences inappropriate assign ‘already served’ sang admission din bursting provisional basis due aforementioned cannot proceed suggestion issues seats smoothing occasion fancier signaling require records indicate provided remain appreciated despised gladly nicely dipped textbooks someday squash toughest earn deserves murderous successfully fingering justifiably displeasure smirking retake propose alternative state events revealed therefore practical prudent career prospects shifting internal logical volatile qualifies majority erupting directing registered cuddly earned oneon-one immediate tangle concluded gathered twirling nudging trades sidestepped congratulate surviving multiple tribunals swirls diamonds feminine unlatch decides woven triply journey

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blueraineshadows · 25 days

Text

Blood Bound Part Ten

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

Sebastian finally has MC all to himself, but is she the same girl who was taken from him all those years ago? Leander is struggling with his feelings as he reveals shocking information.

12.6k Tags: NSFW / angst / trauma / anxiety and depression / mentions of death and murder / pining and sexual tension

Chapter Master List and Ao3

Reading tag list at the end. Let me know if you would like to be added ✨️💕

Ten: Only Love Can Hurt Like This

“I’m all ears, sweetheart.”

The first time MC saw Sebastian Sallow, he had been beside the fireplace in the Slytherin common room with his nose stuck in a book. His comment about her being the new fifth year had been borderline dismissive, and then he had taken a moment to really look at her, and he had put down his book to introduce himself. To this day, she still wasn’t sure what had made her pause and look at him in the first place, only that she had hesitated, lingering there by the huge fireplace until he had noticed her.

Their conversation had been brief, but his charm and charisma had stuck with her for a long time afterwards. When she had placed her head on the fresh, clean pillow in her dormitory, the image of Sebastian’s beautiful, brown eyes had drifted through her thoughts.

It was safe to say that he had made an impression upon her.

So much had happened since that day, years had passed, and they had both changed in that time, but his eyes still had the power to render her almost boneless. Smooth like chocolate, flecked with golden caramel, and surrounded by enviable long, dark lashes, they were beautiful eyes indeed. Paired with his irresistible charm, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a devastating smile. She felt that familiar feeling as she stared down at him. She was falling, diving head first into those eyes, and she would be utterly lost if she wasn’t careful.

Words were backed up behind her lips, her throat constricting against the burst of longing and frustration that threatened to spill out from her, but she kept still, her hands still wrapped about his throat. For so long, she had tried to imagine what it would be like to face Sebastian again, long hours spent in her cell just waiting for the day to come, and here he was. Flat out on the ground beneath her, at her mercy and being surprisingly submissive, and yet she seemed incapable of speech.

Loosening her grip on him, she felt his throat bob under her palm as her hands traced against his skin, the roughness of stubble grazing against her soft fingertips. He was thicker, his neck strong, his jaw more defined. Her fingers trembled as they examined a slim scar that was new, ghosting up over cheeks that were no longer round but still smothered in freckles. She knew this face so well it appeared regularly in her dreams, and yet it was like she was discovering him all over again as she traced the lines of his face, his dangerous eyes never leaving her for a second.

His smile slowly faded, his eyes darkening as she explored. Her thumb grazed close to his mouth, and his lips parted, her gaze lingering on the softness as she remembered a time when all she had wanted was to kiss him.

“It’s so good to see your face, MC,” he said, his voice low and rough about the edges. “I missed you.”

Her hands stilled, and she slowly met his eyes. Reality slammed through the intimacy of the moment, snapping her back from her memories of what came before, and the darkness rushed into the cavern in her chest. The chill breeze cut across her face, lifting strands of her hair and making the branches of the surrounding trees creak and groan. Glancing about them, the shadows were long through the woods, their surroundings so nondescript that they really could have been anywhere. Sebastian had ripped her away from the smog and bustle of London, and now they were seemingly alone.

“Where are we?” She asked, removing her hands from his face as though he burned her. She shifted, climbing off the expanse of his chest, scuffing her hands and knees as she scrambled away from him. “Where have you brought me?”

He looked confused, hesitating before he sat up. “We are in woodland not far from York,” he said.

Her stomach dropped, and she glanced around in panic. “York? That’s so far away,” she gasped. Her hand sought out her wand, tugging it free from her holster and gripping it tightly.

“Hey, easy,” Sebastian said, holding his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you. MC…it’s me. You know me.”

Did she? Looking at him now, he was both familiar and yet a stranger. It didn’t make sense, but the panic in her chest was real, and a sudden twist of longing pierced through her. Breathing faster through her shock, she realised she wanted the reassuring and comforting presence of Leander. She aimed her wand at Sebastian, wincing as her blood quickened with a slow burn. The blood pact.

“Take me back,” she demanded. “I can’t travel long distances yet. You have to return me to London. Now.”

The look of dismay on his face almost made her falter, but then his expression tightened, a muscle working in his jaw as he got to his feet. “No,” he said firmly.

“You have to!” She demanded, standing up to keep at his level. She shifted, side stepping as she kept her wand at the ready. “You shouldn’t have taken me like that.”

“Are you saying you would have rather stayed in that tunnel with the Aurors?” Sebastian curled his lip in disgust. “Harrington is a first class prick, and as for Perfect Prewett, I’m not going anywhere near London all the time he has that active tracker for me. We need to keep moving for the next few hours in case they try to follow us.”

Her lower lip trembled as she stared through the darkened mass of trees. She had no idea where they were and had nowhere she could visualise close enough to Apparate. The fear of messing it up, or getting Splinched, made her reluctant to attempt getting herself back to London. She could try running, but Sebastian would no doubt catch her, and fighting him off would run the risk of her blood boiling until her death because of their blood pact.

“Just take me close enough so that I can travel the rest,” she said, holding her head at a confident angle despite the panic gripping her. “I know where to go once I’m in London.”

He stared at her through his lashes, his face dark and dangerous in ways that made her shiver, her heart hammering behind her ribs. “Why are you so desperate to get back? What is the attraction?”

He stepped slowly to one side, but subtly closer, his hands hanging loose at his sides, but she was not fooled. Lessons learned long ago had her tracking his predatory movements, and she counter-stepped, adrenaline spiking as she slipped into old habits. She may not be as quick as she once was, but she knew not to let him gain the advantage. He was like a coiled snake when confronted, and his bite was dangerous.

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I have business in London,” she said, tilting her chin upwards as she adjusted her sweaty grip on her wand. “You can’t just snatch up people whenever you feel like it. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I was about to gain a one-way ticket to Azkaban for murder, and I needed to get out of there,” he said carefully, dark eyes flashing. His head tilted to one side. “Once upon a time, you wouldn’t have thought twice about fleeing alongside me. Are you saying that’s not the case anymore?”

It felt like she was being torn down the middle, her chest filled with the longing to throw herself back into his arms and just forget everything else, but the tension building up along her spine had her holding back. If she made the wrong move, it could jeopardise everything. Could she trust him? It made her pulse dip and skip, and her lungs felt tight as she tried to steady her breathing in an attempt to appear calm and controlled before him.

“What are you doing with Rookwood?” She demanded, holding her aim true. The fire licked in her blood, heating with intent to burn, but she kept her wand arm steady.

His lips curved into a sly smirk as he slipped his own wand free with a graceful twist of his wrist. “What are you doing with Prewett?”

“I trust Leander with my life,” she said, a warning edge to her voice. “I can’t say the same for a man who is supposed to be dead. I watched Rookwood die, Sebastian, and now he is very much alive. What are you doing with him?”

Seeing Rookwood standing with Sebastian had confirmed everything the Auror’s had told her. Dressed in a smart coat and top hat, his cold, blue eyes narrowed in a way that brought shivers of memory to her, it made a mockery of the desperate fight she’d had to endure in the darkness of that ruin. Seeing Sebastian beside him, another soldier to do Rookwood’s dirty work, had her defensive barriers slamming into place.

Sebastian paused, brow creased in thought as he stared at her, his wand pointing down towards the ground. “You think I am on Rookwood’s side?”

“I don’t know what to think,” she said carefully. “It’s been four years, Sebastian. I’ve been hidden away from the world. From the little I have seen, you appear to be rather comfortable within his ranks.”

Dismay made his face crumble, and he looked away from her, almost turning his back on her aim as he pushed his wand back into its holster. Her grip slackened slightly as she watched him, her nerves stretched taut with uncertainty.

“You don’t trust me,” he murmured, pushing his hand through his hair. He glanced upwards, the boughs of the trees shifting in the wind offering glimpses of the night sky. “You don’t trust me, but you can trust an Auror. Someone who could throw us both into Azkaban without a second thought.”

Anger began to simmer in her belly, her hand tightening once more around her wand. “The only reason I am standing here at all is because of Leander,” she snapped, her hand beginning to shake with the effort of holding her aim. The pact was screaming through her blood now, blending with her anger in white hot sparks. “Without him, I would be dead, my skin blistered to death because of this fucking blood pact. But you, Sebastian, you get to murder your way across the country while I rotted away in that black hole.”

Her blood seared through her veins and her heart hammered with lightning sparks as her temper flared, a guttural cry of pain escaped through her gritted teeth and she swayed on her feet, a red haze crowding in on her vision. Her feet dragged across the carpet of leaves as the horizon wavered out of focus. Hissing in a breath, she jolted as hands grasped her upper arms, her eyes clashing with blazing brown ones.

“MC, what’s wrong,” Sebastian demanded, panic twisting his face. “Why would you be dead?”

She closed her eyes, unable to look at him as she fought back her anger, shocked at the strength of it surging through her. Bitterly, she felt the tremble in her legs and knew that if he let her go, she would likely stumble and fall. At the same time, she wanted to rip herself out of his grip and run.

“You’re right,” she gasped, her head dipping forward as a wave of dizziness washed over her. “I don’t trust you.”

Arms encircled her, crushing her against the expanse of his chest as the darkness closed in, and the sensation of her stomach being pulled sharply behind her belly button told her they were Apparating again before everything faded to nothing.

Leander

The pale dawn was creeping across London, the air chilled and threaded with a smog so thick that the view from Leander’s kitchen window was like a ghostly wasteland. Sitting at his table, a cup of tea cold and forgotten beside him, he stared out at the new morning with eyes tight and aching with exhaustion. He hadn’t even tried to sleep, his bed cold and vacant, untouched. The thought of climbing under blankets still touched by her scent made his throat feel tight. The sudden tearing away of her presence had left him reeling. He knew he had grown attached to MC, but seeing her vanish in Sallow’s arms last night had hit him harder than he had expected.

Sighing, he rubbed his face with both hands, fighting against the darkness that seemed to hang heavy over his head. Not only was MC gone, but the image of Odessa’s empty, glassy eyes seemed to be branded behind his eyelids, the shock of her betrayal seemed to shake the foundations of his belief in the wizarding justice system.

Her quick mind and feisty wand handling had made her an outstanding cadet, and they had shared experiences through their training together that he had thought meant something. It made him cold to the bone that Odessa had been sneaking around behind his back all that time, perhaps her flirting had been a means to an end rather than genuine interest, and he felt like such a fool.

There would be no more playful smiles across the office. There would be no need to find an excuse to get out of the date she had set for Friday evening. Odessa was dead. Cut down by Sallow. MC was gone. Taken by Sallow.

His gaze fell upon the table top where he had placed the file Andrew Larson had given him. There had been no opportunity to hand the information over to MC, and it sat there on his table, another weight pressing down upon his head. Beside it sat the tracking compass, the needle pointing towards the north. It had shifted slightly a few times during the course of the night, which meant that Harrington had been right.

After Sallow and MC had vanished before his eyes down in the tunnel, he had been so enraged that he had lost his temper for a few moments, losing his grip on his careful control as his own personal feelings swamped his professional role. Harrington had calmed him down, and when he had pulled out the compass, realising he could track Sallow and hunt him down, it was calmly pointed out to him that they could be anywhere. Sallow was strong. He would take her miles away and keep moving to avoid being found. He wouldn’t give up easily.

Harrington had also pointed out that MC hadn’t really put much of a fight up, either. Of course, she would let Sallow take her. Leander hadn’t wanted to admit it, but it was possible that MC had planned for something like that to happen all along. She had promised to stay hidden, and yet she had revealed herself. He had known she would go back to Sebastian eventually, but it felt all too soon.

But, when he had held his hand out to her, she had stepped forward. She tried to come to him before being pulled back, and it was that one hopeful moment that Leander couldn’t let go of as he sat at his kitchen table. Her eyes had met his, a flicker of uncertainty, a flash of that warmth he had become addicted to, and it had torn his heart in half as she vanished with that look on her face.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the enchanted parchment, one edge ragged where he had torn off the other half to place in MC’s hands. Smoothing it out on the table top, he dipped his quill in ink and thought for a moment, choosing his words before he began to write. Authoritative Auror, or concerned lover? Who should he be when he reached out to her?

He wrote a few lines, just wanting to remind her that he was here and that they still had a job to do despite the tangled emotions they seemed to have woven around them. As the ink began to fade, soaking into the parchment as it found its way to MC’s half, Leander rubbed his face with his hands and took a steadying breath. He had to wash up and change, refocus his head, and go into the office. There was work to be done, and there was nothing more he could do for MC other than trust that she would find her way back to make her report. Dare he hope that she would want to find her way back to him.

Sebastian

Hogwarts valley was spread out below them, the castle itself standing proudly, the windows lit with a welcoming glow, the night sky littered with thousands of stars that were beginning to fade as dawn crept up over the surrounding mountains. It had been a long time since he had laid eyes on this place, the comfort drawn from seeing it was almost as powerful as the warming charm he had cast around himself and MC. These Highlands were home, they always would be, and he had to bring her back here. This is where they first met.

Sat against an old, fallen tree, Sebastian held MC in his arms. She hadn’t woken up since she had passed out. The sight of her in so much pain, her eyes bloodshot and her skin deathly white, had filled him with a fear so tangible he had almost screamed. He had Apparated her into Cumbria, a spot near the lakes he had visited with his parents as a child. Her body had remained limp and unresponsive, and he had felt his eyes burn with tears at the thought that he might lose her after only just getting her back. Not wanting to risk being found, he had waited an hour, and then he had brought her here to the hillside overlooking Hogwarts.

He carried emergency supplies in the enchanted pocket of his jacket for times when he could be caught out on a job. Wrapping MC in a tartan blanket for warmth, he had settled with her in his lap, reluctant to let her go. It pained him to replay the last words she had uttered to him, hearing that she didn’t trust him anymore ripped through him like a cold blade. Nothing else could have disarmed him quicker.

Blinking back his tiredness, his fingers sought out the pulse point at her neck again, the delicate flutter of life under his fingertips reassuring him that she was alive. To look at her, you couldn’t be blamed for fearing the worst. Eyes closed and utterly still, her face was deathly pale, dark smudges under her eyes hinting at the lack of sleep. Her jaw and cheekbones were still too defined, her limbs so slender. She made him think of a tiny bird that had been held in captivity for so long that she had forgotten how to fly. Her distress hung heavy about his neck, guilt almost choking him as he brushed strands of hair from her face, his hands stroking her soft skin as the fear of losing her loomed above all else.

He sought out her left hand, turning it over to smooth his thumb over the red scar that matched his own. The bitterness with which she had mentioned the pact they had made stung him. He had clung to that bond like an anchor as he had tried to find his way. To think she hated it added to the fears clawing up his throat.

Cupping her face, he stared down at her, his thumb stroking softly against her cheek. If only she would open her eyes. She had such pretty eyes, and they sparked with such energy and fire. He had always been drawn to them, losing himself in her gaze and feeling like he belonged. To see the uncertainty and the guarded look she had given him earlier made him feel cold, his loneliness shrouding him and making him shiver.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling his eyes begin to sting. “I should have tried to come for you sooner. Forgive me, please. I love you.”

Bending down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, her skin chilled beneath his lips. Holding her closer in an effort to keep her warm, he swallowed down the urge to cry, blinking away the wetness gathering in his eyes. He needed to stay strong for her. Closing his eyes, he rested his head atop hers, feeling drowsiness sneaking up on him as the first faint glow of morning crested over the peaks.

“Lee,” she mumbled, stirring against him.

Sebastian’s eyes flew open, the name slipping from her lips hitting him like a punch to the gut. It was the name she had uttered in the memory Black Dahlia had shown him of her prison cell when she had looked so lost and broken. Rousing from sleep, she was asking for Prewett again, suggesting that he was often with her when she woke up. The thought made Sebastian tense, his jaw clenching in envious fury as he watched her eyes flickering open. Smoothing his face into a careful mask lest she see his anger, he kept his arms around her, but was poised ready to move if she flew into a temper again.

Her fingers curled into the front of his jacket, her lips twitching upwards in the corners, and then she froze as her eyes met his gaze. Her lips parted in surprise, a crease appearing on her brow. “Seb…”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he said dully, feeling his cheeks burn as he dipped his gaze away from her.

She sat up, rubbed her eyes and peered around them, a soft sigh leaving her mouth as her gaze landed on the castle in the distance. Her eyes swung back to him, searching his face as myriad emotions crossed her features. “You brought me to Hogwarts.”

“Back to where it all began, sweetheart,” he said, leaning back against the log and pushing his hands into his hair. “The place where we first met. Sometimes I wish we could go back to that day, get our hands on one of these time turner things I’ve read about, and go back to that moment in the common room when you came up to me by the fireplace.”

“You remember that?” She asked, pulling her robe tighter around her body. The blanket had slipped down behind her, and he reached for it, wrapping it about her shoulders.

“How could I forget?” He smiled, daring to brush his fingers under her chin before sitting back again. She was still seated between his thighs, her legs draped over one of his. “There you were, so eager to start your Hogwarts adventure, and so beautiful. I think you turned the head of every boy in our year and the years above, with your smile. I was honoured that you chose to spend your time with me.”

Staring out across the valley towards the castle, the breaking dawn lighting the sky behind her, she had never looked more beautiful to him. He ached to hold her closer and wished he could just disappear with her forever.

“Do you regret knowing me, MC?” He asked, a slight tremor in his voice. “If you could go back to that day, would you walk past me instead of stopping? I would walk past me given the choice.”

Biting her lip, she frowned, thinking over the question before turning to look at him. “So, if we went back to that day, what would you do differently? Let’s say I still approached you, and I chose you to accompany me to Hogsmeade when asked by Professor Weasley. Between then and now, what would you change?”

“I wouldn’t wait so long before plucking up the courage to kiss you,” he said, biting back a grin. “I wasted so much potential snogging time by being a coward.”

“That's the first thing that comes to mind?” She arched her brow as she looked at him.

“Kissing you is one of my favourite things, MC. Why wouldn't I wish for more of it?”

A glorious blush deepened across her cheeks as she rolled her eyes and turned her face back towards the view, tugging the blanket closer around herself. “Still a smooth talker, I see.”

His smirk faded as he considered her. She hadn’t answered his question about any regrets having him in her life. “What would I change?” He said quietly, reaching out to brush his fingers across her shoulder, trailing them lightly down her back.

“I wouldn’t let anyone take you from me if I could have that time again. You shouldn’t have gone to Azkaban for my mistakes, and I know that I can never get that time back for you, but I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, MC.”

Keeping her gaze averted, she plucked aimlessly at the edge of the blanket. He could see the uncertainty on her face, the stiff way she held herself under his light touch. Swallowing down the ache in his throat, he withdrew his hand.

“Do you really not trust me?” He asked, his voice pained.

“It’s been a long time, Sebastian,” she murmured, finally turning to look at him. Sadness darkened her eyes. “I’m not sure I even know you anymore. I mean, look at you, running from Aurors and keeping company with Ashwinders. What are you doing with them, Seb?”

Absently, he rubbed his hand along his forearm where his branded marks were, his dark deeds hanging over his head as he looked at the only girl who could squeeze his heart and leave him breathless. Ominis and Anne had been lecturing in his ear for years about his choice of company, and he had shrugged it off without a second thought. Seeing the sadness on MC’s face and hearing her say that she didn’t know him anymore cut him open in a way that made his cheeks burn with shame.

He hung his head, his hands coming up to cover his face as years of dancing on the edge of the law caught up with him.

“When I found out Rookwood was alive, I wanted to kill him,” he said, rubbing his face before letting his hands fall into his lap, close to her leg. “The only way to get close to him was to work for the Ashwinders, and so I began to infiltrate the gang. It took so long to get close to Rookwood, and as I did rise through the ranks, I discovered that he collected rare spell books and artefacts. I realised that if I could get my hands on his collection, I might be able to find out what curse he used on Anne or find a way to help her.”

“She’s still alive, then,” MC muttered, her face tightening.

Sebastian nodded, noting the flash of fury in her eyes. “It took me so long to get into Rookwood’s inner circle, but I still haven’t found out where he keeps his rarest collection,” he said, his mouth twisting with regret. “And then, he started talking about you.”

“Me?” She frowned. “What about me?”

“I think he wants to collect you, MC,” he said carefully. “He wanted to break you out of prison so that you could join the Ashwinders. That Auror I just took out told us your cell number and gave us a way to get into Azkaban so we could sneak you out.”

Her mouth fell open in shock. “McKinnon did what? That bitch!” Her eyes widened and she put her fingers to her lips. “Merlin, she came to my cell in her disguise. She appeared at my cell door, and I thought I was imagining it.”

“I know,” he said, nodding. “She had to show me the memory to prove it was you before I entered the prison.”

“You came for me?” Her eyes swung to him, her face a mask of pure shock.

He nodded. “I did. I entered Azkaban, but you were already gone. Some crazy, old crone said you left with a man, and then I barely made it out after the Dementors realised we shouldn’t have been there.”

“I can’t believe you did that…” Her voice cracked, and she looked away, tugging the blanket even tighter around herself. She shook her head. “I can’t believe that bitch, McKinnon. She sent you into Azkaban even though she knew I was getting out of prison. I was taken to a safe house, and she was one of the Aurors guarding it.”

“I knew she was double crossing us,” he seethed, his hands clenched into fists. “I had to take her out, MC. She was meeting Rookwood to tell him more information about you, and I was worried that she might tell him…”

He paused, biting his lip, and she met his gaze with a curious frown.

“Tell him what?”

“I know what you’re doing, MC,” he admitted after a pause. “I know they let you out to spy on the Ashwinders and Rookwood.”

She shook her head, shifting position as she began to back away from him, her face bone white. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, letting the blanket slip from her shoulders.

Sebastian reached for her, his hand clamping around the wrist of her wand arm before she could grab it, his eyes determined as he stared at her. “Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about, sweetheart. You’re a spy for the British Auror Office.”

The flash of fear in her eyes was very real before she hardened her face, yanking against his grip with urgency. “Let me go!”

He could move lightning quick when he wanted to, and she was a dangerous little witch given the chance. He had her on her back in an instant before she could even think of running from him, pinning her hands easily against the soft grass of the hill. The sun was flooding the valley with its early morning rays, a low lying mist lingering over the lake and river below.

MC looked up at him, her face so pale, her eyes darkening with fear. It stabbed at him, made his heart ache to feel the tension in her arms as she resisted his grip. He needed her to trust him again.

“Why do you think I killed that Auror, MC?” He said, leaning over her, his eyes burning into hers. “I couldn’t let her tell Rookwood what you were doing. I couldn’t put you at risk. I’ll kill anyone who dares to hurt you, MC. I can promise you that.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice breathless as she stared, wide-eyed.

“You’re going to spy on Rookwood, and I’m going to help you,” he said. “He doesn’t know why you’re out, only I know the truth. We are going to get our hands on Rookwood’s collection, and we are going to bring that bastard down together. You and me.”

“Are you serious?”

He smiled, feeling the tension slipping out of her, but he maintained his hold on her wrists. He bent his head lower, his nose almost touching against hers. She really did have the most intoxicating eyes. “Deadly serious,” he whispered. “I’d do anything for you, MC. I know it’s been a long time, sweetheart, but I never stopped loving you. Not once.”

Her gaze dipped to his mouth, so close to hers, and he felt his blood fire with want. Was he breaking through to her? Was he reminding her of how it had been, how it could be again? All the time turners in the world could take them back to the start, but he was certain they would always find each other. Their fates were entwined. They had to be. She felt like a part of him, and she had to feel that, too.

He tilted slightly, daring to lower his mouth closer, desperately hungry to taste her kiss. He could hear her quickened breaths, her fingers flexing against the grass under his grip, but her eyes remained hesitant.

“I wish I could believe you,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

“It’s the truth,” he promised, releasing one of her wrists to cup her face. “It will always be you.”

He pressed his lips against hers in a soft kiss, savouring the feel of her before trailing his lips down over her jaw, mouthing against the velvety smoothness of her throat.

“Seb,” she whimpered, her fingers gripping at his shoulder.

He kept kissing her, more firmly now, his breaths coming harder and faster as he worked his way towards her ear. It had been so long, and his hunger was near insatiable.

“Seb…please,” she gasped, pushing against him with her free hand. “You need to stop. I can’t do this…stop.”

He stopped, lifting his head to look at her flushed face. “Why not?”

She winced, looking away from him. “It’s been a long time, Sebastian. I can’t just pick up where we left off…”

“You can trust me, MC,” he insisted, his grip tightening on her, the feeling that she was slipping away from him becoming fiercer. “I promise you. I stand by the oath I made.”

He pushed himself up onto his knees and held out his left hand, revealing the scar that was a twin of hers. “This pact means something. We are bonded by our blood, you and me. Forever. I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

“We were kids when we did that, Sebastian. So much has changed since then,” she said, her brow creasing as she studied her own scarred palm. “This pact almost killed me in Azkaban. They shackled me to a chair and poured Veritaserum into my mouth to get information out of me.”

His eyes widened, and panic ripped through him. “What did you tell them?”

Her eyes narrowed to furious slits. “Oh, don’t you worry. Your secrets are safe. You have Leander to thank for that, by the way,” she spat, getting to her feet and brushing loose grass from her robe. “If it wasn’t for him, I would be dead, and your name would be marked up ready for my empty cell. He swapped the serum out so I wouldn’t die because he actually fucking cares what happens to me. The only thing this pact is good for is your own preservation, Sebastian. So far, all it has done is hold me just as much of a prisoner as those black stone walls did.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, his throat closing up with fear. He moved towards her, and she backed up. She was going to disappear. He could feel it. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave like this. Let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything. Just don’t leave.”

“I can’t stay here,” she said, wiping a stray tear that slid from her eye as she backed away from him. “I need to think, or maybe I need more time, I don’t know. But, I do have to get back to London. I can’t stay here.”

Clenching his hand into a fist, Sebastian felt his jaw tighten, envy twisting him up inside. “Back to London. More like back to Prewett, right? Your white knight. He isn’t the only one who cares about you, MC. You have to believe that.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she averted her gaze again. “I have to meet with Leander, or I will be breaching the terms of my probation,” she said, tilting her chin upwards in that stubborn way of hers. “I won’t go back to Azkaban, Sebastian. Not for you, not this time.”

“So, what happens now?” He asked. “Back to London, and then what? You report back to your precious Auror, and tell him what a fucking disappointment I am. What about us?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head, and he felt his heart rip open. “But, I will come and find you. I agree that we need to work together.”

“MC, wait,” he pleaded, stepping towards her.

More tears slid down her cheeks and she wiped them away quickly with the back of her hand. She met his eyes. “I did my waiting, Sebastian. Four years of it. In Azkaban. It’s going to take more than a few sweet promises to make up for it. If you love me like you say you do, then you’ve got to prove it.”

Her face was so hard, so cold, flickers of ancient magic flaring in her eyes as she stared at him. She was terrifyingly beautiful, and all that power was raging inside her tiny frame, held up by the iron of her spine. She had always been spirited, it had been one of the traits that had drawn him to her, and maybe he had become complacent in her absence.

“I do love you,” he said fiercely.

“Does Luella Rookwood know that?” She asked, her eyebrow arching upwards.

His stomach plummeted, and he almost choked as the blood drained from his face. She couldn’t possibly know about that. “I…”

“I guess I’ll see you in the Black Rose, Sallow,” she said. “Save me a seat at the top table.”

The air around her flickered and then she was gone. He gulped, staring at the spot she had been in as his head crashed with a jumble of thoughts, fear gripping him like never before. Had Luella got to her? Rosier wouldn’t have blabbed. What did she know? His head spun with questions, and he was furious that through all of this, Leander fucking Prewett had once again saved the day.

His scream of fury cut through the air, a flock of birds taking flight from some nearby trees as he fell to his knees, his eyes clouding with tears as he gazed across the valley towards Hogwarts. Why was everything so hard? And why did he keep losing the people that he loved? What was wrong with him?

Solomon was right. He really was a disappointment, and all he ever seemed fated to do was fail.

A blast of light shot up into the sky and he turned his gaze beyond the castle where the murky dark of the Forbidden Forest spread out like a shadowy carpet. Right in the centre, a column of blue and white lightning seared up into the pale blue of the morning sky, crackling and flickering with astonishing power. He stared in awe, his chest heaving with a steadying breath as his heart pounded. It was her. It had to be.

Pressing a hand to his chest, he wondered if it was anger or pain, or maybe it was both that had her blasting her magic into the heavens. It made his eyes burn, and he blinked away the tears, fear replacing his fury as he watched the powerful display of magic.

If Rookwood managed to get his hands on that magic, there would be no stopping the terror he could unleash on the world. That could never happen.

Whatever happened between him and MC, Sebastian would do everything he could to protect her and her magic. He did love her, and he vowed to prove it. He wasn’t entirely sure how yet, but he would. On this, he refused to fail.

The cool dark of the Forbidden Forest welcomed her as she landed on the compacted dirt. Not even bothering to catch herself, she let herself tumble down to the ground, rolling until she faced the canopy of twisted trees. She could barely see the sky through the thickness of the forest roof, a chill mist clung to the air and kissed her hot cheeks, and the croak and rustle of all manner of critters could be heard in the surrounding flora. The pressure in her chest was monumental, and it needed a release.

Sebastian’s face when she had said Luella’s name. His pallor had paled so quickly, his mouth gaping in shock, lips moving as he tried to answer her. Guilty as sin.

Her scream ripped from her throat as she reached for the sky through the gnarled branches, the release of pressure so fierce and sudden that her back arched up from the dirt, her ancient magic manifesting into bolts of lightning. Much like when she had saved Leander from the Dementors, the raw emotion of the moment charged the magic to its full potential, and there was no need for a wand. Her body was the conduit, and she unleashed her roiling mass of turmoil into the atmosphere.

The storm raged through her body, screaming along her bones and flooding her soul as she tried to manage the whirlwind of suppressed feelings that tore up her insides. While she had been enclosed in terror and darkness, Sebastian had been seducing the enemy. It was like feral blows to that tender place behind her ribs, and she began to sob, her magic faltering and sputtering out as she curled up and bawled.

Why was everything so confusing? Seeing him again had opened up the desperate longing she’d hidden so carefully from the Dementors, all those precious memories of their first kisses, the excitement of falling for him. She had wanted to throw herself into his arms and believe the sweet words that fell from his lips. She ached to feel that fire and longing that only he could spark into life, but she had fought against it, tangled in her guilt over finding comfort and pleasure in the arms of another.

She had almost told Sebastian the truth, knowing the petty jealousy he clung to over Leander would make her words strike like blows. She wanted him to hurt as she did.

All that her Auror had ever done was take care of her. Had it been so wrong to seek comfort from Leander? The little pocket of warmth she had discovered held back the devastating loneliness. Burying herself in that glow had given her the strength to stand on her own feet and take those first steps into freedom.

Letting her tears fall freely, she wrapped her arms about herself and realised how deeply she had come to care about Leander. The shock of missing him slammed into her, stealing her breath as she gulped through her tears. Maybe it wasn’t a passionate love or an all-consuming love, but she suspected she loved him for being the caring gentleman that he was. He meant safety to her, and the urge to run to him was very strong. Was it so terrible to need someone to be her safety net? She seemed to free fall into nothing, and the longing to have someone there ready to catch her was so strong it was almost a pain.

She was falling again right now, spinning through chaos and feeling lost. Leander would catch her. She didn’t doubt it. She could get herself to London, and he would wrap her up safe and warm. But, surely, she needed to catch herself. If she didn’t, then life was only going to get harder.

Or, she could run.

If she ran hard and far enough, she could escape all of the trauma and danger. Somewhere out there in the world, she could carve a new life for herself. Who would miss her if she ran? Not her old school friends. They would stay well clear of a murdering ex-convict. They wouldn’t want her around their busy lives. Sebastian had clearly found a path to walk with another woman to warm his bed, and Leander would move on and find himself a lovely wife to come home to eventually.

Nobody would miss her if she were to just disappear. Alone, there was no danger of being abandoned or let down. Alone. Always alone.

Closing her eyes, she tried to calm herself, remembering how devastating it had been when Leander had kissed her goodbye and left her in her cell that day. She had screamed and fought against it, almost on her knees begging for him not to leave her alone. It must have been the lowest she had ever felt, and yet, she had come back from that.

She had to keep fighting. She was stronger than she looked.

Sniffing back her tears, she sat up, glancing around the clearing in the forest, the glow of fireflies dancing around the lake catching her eyes. Beside her was the stone birdbath that she had used to open the secret chamber behind the swirling stone wall behind her. That had been years ago, when she had been a naive girl ready to walk into all sorts of danger, thinking that she could manage whatever horrors awaited around the corner. Perhaps not that much had changed in that respect, although she hoped she was wiser.

Standing, she wiped her cheeks and moved closer to take a look at the birdbath, remembering the dead boy who had led her here through the dark forest back in her school days. She wasn’t sure what had made her Apparate to this spot, only that she had remembered the shadowy dark under the trees, the cool air and mysterious atmosphere giving you a feeling of isolation as though you were in another world. All she had wanted was to flee Sebastian and the allure of his eyes, his strong arms, his tempting words. The temptation to give in to him was all too real, and she had to fight it.

A shimmer to her left made her look up, her eyes widening as a spectral form floated through the trees as though summoned by her memories of this place.

“Richard?” She whispered.

“Oh! It’s you creating the storm!” The ghostly vision drifted closer, his face lighting up in delight as he approached. “I did not expect to find you here at the root of all that lightning. Although, now that I think of it, I suppose it does make sense.”

MC wiped harder at her cheeks and tried to summon a smile, but her lips only wobbled as she looked up at Richard Jackdaw. He looked just the same, his curling hair framing his boyishly handsome face, his hands clasped behind his back as he floated gently beside her.

“Hello, Richard,” she greeted, her voice husky and raw from her tears. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought this place was too upsetting for you.”

“Ah, yes, well. I have been attempting all manner of bravery, and I have been coming here every now and then to ponder my unfortunate fate. I suppose you could say that you inspired it in me, dear girl,” he said, floating a little closer and making a slight bow as he studied her face more closely. His transparent features dropped in dismay. “My goodness, you appear to be in some distress. What happened? May I be of any assistance?”

The well of tears had clearly not run dry, and fresh ones began to fall onto her cheeks at the simple kindness of a ghost, her shoulders shaking as she clamped her hand over her mouth to hold back her sobbing. Almost choking through the tightness in her throat, she managed to fight off the tears, wiping them away with a shaking hand. Poor Richard looked utterly lost, his hands unclasping from behind his back and wafting uselessly around her, his eyes an echo of pained frustration.

“If only I could offer you an embrace, my dear, but alas, I am rather useless for such warm and comforting gestures,” he sighed. “What terrible thing has caused you to be so distressed? Perhaps if you talk to me, I can lend a sympathetic ear. I can not promise that any advice I should offer would be helpful, though.”

Looking at his concerned face, MC took a steadying breath. “You are kind, Richard, but I will be alright in a moment. I just managed to get myself caught up in a predicament with someone.”

“Oh, I see. Matters of the heart, I assume?” He winced as she reluctantly nodded. “Hmm, yes. Those can be tricky.”

“He is unbelievably stubborn and reckless. He tends to walk a darker path, and trouble is always not far behind him, and yet I find myself stupidly drawn to him,” she said, a frown darkening her brow as her tongue seemed to loosen. “He stole my heart so young, but I had to go away for a while, and now that I am faced with him again I’m not sure if I know him anymore.”

“Absence didn’t make the heart grow fonder?”

She gave him a wry look. “I’m afraid it’s rather complicated.”

“I see,” he said, his face thoughtful. “How complicated, exactly?”

Richard had an innocent look about him. His features remained those of the boy who had lost his head whilst adventuring into places he really shouldn’t have been. In the few conversations she had shared with the ghost, she deemed him quite sensitive and youthful despite many years roaming in spirit form. It didn’t feel right to tell him all of her woes, especially the part about her serving time in Azkaban for murder. She feared the judgement she might find on his boyishly handsome face. Perhaps sticking to the confusing conflict in her heart would be enough.

“I wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for someone else,” she said, her voice wobbling slightly. “This man is warm and kind. He represents safety and stability. He snuck up on me a bit, and now I feel rather guilty about it all, despite discovering that my childhood sweetheart has seemingly replaced me with another as well. For two people supposed to be madly in love, we seem to have failed at it quite terribly.”

Drained and exhausted, MC found a large tree root to sit on, rubbing her tear stained face with her hands as Richard floated before her in a manner much like pacing.

“So, you fell in love with a scoundrel who dabbles in dark magic,” he said, tilting his head as he pondered this. He nodded and his face took on a look of resignation. “I can understand the allure of such traits. I, too, loved a devilish creature, and suffered the torment.”

“The thing is, underneath his tendency to stray into trouble, there is someone worth loving. It’s a side not many people get to see, and I found it,” she said, that deep ache flaring within and making her sigh. “I’m scared he has lost that part of himself, though.”

“But, what of this new gentleman you speak of? Do you think you love him, too?”

MC blushed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s a different kind of love,” she hesitated, her eyes growing fond as she thought of Leander. “You cannot compare the two, only in that they both mean something to me. I’m not sure that even makes sense.”

“You would be surprised how much it makes sense to me,” he said softly. He pursed his lips and gazed thoughtfully off into the trees with a small sigh. “It is said that if you truly love a person, you could never fall in love with another, but it’s interesting how you describe it as a different kind of love. That throws a whole new light on the situation. They do sound like opposites of one another, so I suppose it all rather depends on what you want, my dear.”

“I don’t know what I want, Richard,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “It’s all so confusing.”

“Why did you seek closeness with this other gentleman?” He asked.

“I was…lonely,” she admitted, heat flooding her cheeks. “I was in a very bad place, and he helped me. He saved my life.”

Richard hummed and tapped his fingers thoughtfully against his chin, a parody of movement really, because his fingers merely drifted through his ethereal form. “This rogue of yours, what is it that makes you love him?”

MC thought about Sebastian, his devilish eyes floating through her thoughts, along with his dangerous smirk and cocky charm. Being so close to him again had reignited the old spark of excitement, despite the bickering and emotional uproar that came along with it. She sighed and shook her head.

“He is dangerous and exciting,” she admitted. “There is always an adventure to be had when you’re with him, but with that also comes the drama and the clashing of wills. He doesn’t do half measures, he is all in. It’s exhilarating and exhausting all at once. He’s trouble, for sure.”

“Adventure can certainly lead to trouble,” he nodded. He put a hand to his neck and grimaced. “Unfortunately, I know about that all too well.”

“Do you have any regrets, Richard?” She asked, thinking about Sebastian’s mention of going back in time and changing things. “If you could have your time again, would you make different choices?”

“I’ve had plenty of time to ponder that very question,” he said. “And, no, I don’t think I would change very much. Perhaps I would take a companion along with me, or at the very least, duck upon entering the caves. I might get to keep my head that way.”

“You may have lost your head, but I’m glad you still have a sense of humour, Richard,” she said, a smile curving her lips. “A companion does make a difference when adventuring. He may be a rogue, but I know that my childhood love would always have my back in a fight. He is very brave, and fearsome when challenged.”

“It makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?” He said, drifting closer and looking down at her with a kind smile. “He makes you feel alive, despite all the danger.”

“I’m not sure I am the same girl I once was,” she said, her face darkening with cold memories. “I’m not sure how brave I can be anymore, or if I fit into his world like I used to. I was away for a long time.”

“Maybe you don’t need to decide right away. Give yourself some time to adjust to this new version of yourself. After being away for so long, you may see the world differently, but I bet you are as brave and fierce as you were before. Perhaps even more so, you just haven’t realised it yet. You just need time to let yourself breathe and find your feet.”

“You are wiser than you give yourself credit for, Mr Jackdaw,” she said, a small smile curving her lips.

He seemed to rather like that comment, his chest puffing out rather proudly and a smile appearing on his ethereal face. “When you have forever to ponder and discover, it’s surprising what you can pick up along the way.”

“Thank you for listening,” she said, getting to her feet.

“Trust what you feel in here,” he said, reaching out to point towards her chest, a shiver travelling over her skin as his finger disappeared through her sternum. He pulled his hand back rather quickly, embarrassment flooding his face. If he had skin, she fancied he might have blushed. “Oh my, do forgive me, MC. That was…rather rude of me.”

She chuckled, and wished she could hug him to say thank you. The weight on her shoulders did feel somewhat lighter, and she knew what he was trying to say. It was rather similar to the advice Ominis had given her. She could choose her own path, and she had to give herself time to find the one that felt right. “Not to worry, Richard. You have been most kind, and I appreciate your time.”

“Time is something I have at my disposal, my dear. You are most welcome. What will you do now? What new adventure awaits?” He asked wistfully, clasping his hands behind his back again.

“I shall return to London,” she said with a nod. “It’s time to take the next step forwards.”

“Ah yes, our glorious capital,” Richard sighed, drifting off slightly. “I do miss trips into the city. Mind you take care now, my dear. Perhaps you can come and visit again sometime. You can tell me about your adventures. I do love an adventure.”

He floated aimlessly across the clearing, his head bowed and his hands clasped at his back, a lost soul destined to haunt this Highland valley because he dared to take a risk and love with all his heart.

Could that be in her fate someday? Would she choose a path that led to her downfall? She shivered and rubbed her arms.

“Goodbye, Mr Jackdaw,” she called.

Richard gave her a little wave before fading through the trees, roaming at will. He had given her plenty to think about, and he was right. She didn’t need to decide right now, but she did have a job to do. She had meant what she had said to Sebastian. There was no way she would mess up this chance at freedom. She would not be going back into that cell.

The fear of letting anyone get too close blended with the fear of being alone. There was a war going on behind her ribs, and as much as she needed to protect herself, she didn’t want to hurt anyone else either. Least of all, Leander. He didn’t deserve that.

She wouldn’t run. It wasn’t really her style.

Dipping her hand into the pocket of her trousers, she pulled out the piece of enchanted parchment that had one ragged edge. It was her link to Leander, and she knew he would be worrying about her after just disappearing like that. Unfolding it and tapping it with the tip of her wand, she saw neatly scribed words appear, and a small smile curved her lips.

I trust you are safe. I shall be in London all day. I know you can do this.

Lee

Taking a deep breath, she took a moment to gaze around at the gloom of the forest, still feeling separate and disjointed from the rest of the world, but ready to get back up and face things again. Sitting back on the tree root, she pulled out her quill and wrote a reply on the now blank parchment.

I am safe. On my way to you. Put the kettle on, I’m parched.

Apparating out to an old Floo point at the edge of the forest that she remembered from her days at Hogwarts, MC took one last look around at the beauty of Scotland before stepping towards the green glow of the travel network. It was time to go back to the crowded city.

“Diagon Alley,” she said clearly, feeling the pull of being transported miles across the country and landing effortlessly at the Floo on the bustling street. Moving into a quieter corner, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about the broken expression on Sebastian’s face as she had left him. There would be time to revisit all of that drama later. Instead, she pictured the comfort of Leander’s home and vanished from Diagon Alley in a swirl of black.

Leander

He was at his desk when MC’s reply came through, their parchment placed where he could see it whilst he completed his statement about Odessa’s death. It hadn’t been easy putting the words to paper, finalising in ink her betrayal to the Auror Office, his gaze drifting to her empty desk that had already been cleared of her personal belongings. Taking out his own Auror badge, he had tried to imagine what it would be like for Odessa’s family to hear of her fall from grace, his fingers smoothing over the polished metal of his badge as he pondered his own moral conduct.

Breaking the rules for MC didn’t exactly stack proudly on his list of achievements, and his parents would be outraged if they knew the risks he had taken after working so hard to earn his badge. Swapping the truth serum had been crazy and foolish, but he couldn’t help but feel like he had served justice by saving her from death. Whatever truths it pulled from her mouth would have killed her, and the sneaking suspicion that she was, in fact, innocent of her charge of murdering Solomon Sallow still lingered. MC had been so fearful of what she might say in that interrogation room, and the more he thought about it, the more convinced Leander became that it had been Sebastian who had killed his uncle, and not her.

In helping her, he was doing his job, protecting a citizen of the Wizarding World, and seeking the truth. Taking her to his bed was a whole other matter entirely, and one he couldn’t regret, not for one moment. Even if it did need to remain their secret.

When her reply had appeared on his half of the parchment, he had snatched it up, her words making a smile form on his lips. Finishing up his paperwork, he abandoned his desk, sending off his statement before hurrying home to put the kettle on.

There was an edge of anxiousness upon entering his flat, his eyes glancing around the main room and noting the opened potions case on the table, MC’s discarded cloak slipping from the back of a kitchen chair. Putting his wand away, Leander checked the empty potion bottles to see if any were for healing or pain, but it seemed she had only taken her usual restoring ones. The stove was lit, and the kettle was hot, two tea cups set on the side ready, and the sound of movement came from the bedroom.

Calling her name so as not to startle her, Leander lingered in the doorway, his gaze moving over the trail of discarded clothing before arriving at the privacy screen.

“I’m in here,” she called, the sound of water splashing, suggesting she was bathing.

Despite long nights sharing a bed, Leander felt the blush warming his cheeks when he realised she was naked behind the screen, his teeth catching at his full lower lip as he fiddled nervously with his tie. Desperate to see her and ensure she was alright, he hesitated, his awkward shyness keeping his feet rooted to the spot.

“Sorry…I’ll er…I will give you a moment,” he said, swallowing hard. She might not want him to get too close after spending the night with Sallow, unbidden thoughts intruding into his head and making his stomach twist with envy. “I just wanted to check that you’re okay.”

He turned, one hand on the door ready to pull it closed behind him, when her head appeared around the side of the screen. He paused, his eyes devouring the bare, delicate slope of her neck and shoulder, her hair pinned up off her neck. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she smirked, her skin damp and glistening as she held up her finger.

“Wait there,” she said, tugging a drying sheet free from where it was thrown over the privacy screen and wrapping it around herself. Stepping out towards him, he couldn’t help sweeping his gaze over her, checking she was alright. “How are things this morning? Is Harrington pissed at me?”

He huffed air through his lips. “Harrington is always pissed at someone. He has put Sallow at the top of his Wanted list next to Rookwood for the murder of an Auror.”

She frowned. “McKinnon was a snitch,” she said, her eyes dark. “She was in deep with Rookwood it would seem, telling him details about me. If you dabble in darkness and danger, you have to be prepared for what it brings down upon you. I can’t believe she faced Sebastian without her wand at the ready. She was a fool.”

“She needed to face the consequences of her actions, MC, not die,” he said.

She stiffened, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You mean put her into Azkaban,” she said quietly. “One could argue that’s a consequence worse than death.”

“So murder is the answer?” He asked, his expression pained. He shook his head sadly. “You can’t just go around killing people to solve problems, MC. Dead, Odessa can’t answer for her crimes. We can’t question her and find out more information.”

“Silencing her is exactly what Sebastian needed to do,” MC said, holding the drying sheet more firmly around herself. Her face had turned hard and cold, her eyes shutting off any of that earlier sparkle as she defended Sallow's actions yet again. “She was going to blow my cover, Leander. She had already told them restricted information about me. Did you know they tried to break me out of Azkaban?”

His eyes widened, remembering Harrington’s concern that something like that was planned. “They actually tried?”

“The disguise McKinnon used, I recognised it,” she said, hunching her shoulders, a grimace on her face. “She came to my cell door and stared at me. She said someone wanted me, and I thought I was imagining it at the time, but it was her. She was creating the memory so she could give it to Rookwood. They came for me, but I was already gone.”

Leander shuddered, the horror that Azkaban had been breached made a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. The thought of MC being snatched from her cell under his watch made him feel ill, and he pressed a hand to his face, turning to pace the floor as his mind raced. “Fuck, I need to warn the office,” he muttered. “What if they try and break out someone like Harlow? He is crazy.”

“I think it was just me Rookwood wanted,” she said, her voice low and tight. “It seems he wants to collect me like some rare artefact. I suppose that will make infiltrating his gang easy for me.”

Her cold humour didn’t hide the tension in her voice, and he turned back to her, noting the tight way she held onto herself, the way she was almost curling inwards as though trying to disappear.

“I won’t let him collect you,” he said firmly, reaching for her. He gently took hold of her shoulders, his thumbs grazing against her damp skin. Fear tightened his stomach. “Did Sallow try to take you to him?”

She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. “No,” she whispered. “We were alone.”

Her pale skin was unmarked from what he could see of it, no signs of harm, and no signs of passion. But that didn’t mean Sallow hadn’t touched her. He didn’t like the way her gaze lingered over his shoulder, distant and guarded as though she was avoiding him. They hadn’t talked about their intimate situation, and they certainly hadn’t made any promises to one another, but he was attached to her all the same. His envy was bitter. It made his fingers grip her a little tighter. “Did he…did you…”

He couldn’t finish the question, his throat closing as he shook his head. Her answer might just be enough to sever whatever bond they had found together, and even though he knew it had been a fool’s dream to begin with, he couldn’t believe that he meant nothing to her. There had been glimpses of something warmer in her eyes, and her touches had been lingering for longer.

He couldn’t bring himself to form words that would shred all of that. He didn’t want to know what had happened with her and Sallow during the night, despite the torment such thoughts could provoke. Letting her go, he turned for the door. “I’ll let you finish getting dressed,” he said tightly. “I’ll make some tea.”

He couldn’t resist one more glance her way. Her face was pale and haunted, her fingers gripping the sheet to her breasts, but her spine was straight and determined. She remained silent, her eyes guarded. The feeling of separation was already beginning to seep into him. She would drift out of his reach and leave aching emptiness in her place.

Keeping his hands busy, he made the tea and put the tin of biscuits on the table, his eyes constantly drawn to the bedroom door. When MC finally appeared, she was dressed in black clothing fit for travel, her hair pinned back from her pale face. She looked drawn but determined as she came to the table and took a seat.

“You look like you’re ready for a match in Crossed Wands,” he said, attempting a smile.

“Only this time the fight has higher stakes,” she said, wrapping her fingers around her tea cup as he poured from the pot. “I’m going to approach the Ashwinders today, Lee. Sebastian can be my ticket in. I know where to find him. It’s time we got started.”

This had been the plan all along, and yet he felt the anxiety tighten behind his ribs, wanting to scoop her up and run away with her. The matter of her birth family still weighed over him, and the consequences that might come into play should the truth come out. He nodded in agreement at her decision to leave and sat adjacent to her with his own tea. “Do you have a plan?”

She shrugged. “I need to scope out what’s happening with the Ashwinders and talk to Sebastian. I need to see if I can trust him. He told me those things about McKinnon, so I’m hoping he can tell me more that I can pass on to you.”

“Keep in touch through the parchment. You’re also welcome to come here whenever you like,” he reminded her. “All I ask is that you don’t tell anyone else.”

She met his eyes this time, her hand sliding tentatively across the table top towards his. “I wouldn’t bring danger to your door, Lee,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “You know I can’t give you what you really want, but I do care about you, more than I should.”

Her eyes dipped down to their hands, her fingertips ghosting over his skin and making goosebumps spread up his arm. She was warning him not to get attached, but it was too late for that. He studied the shape of her face, the colour of her eyes, committing how she looked in the light of his home to memory in case she never returned. For the first time, he found himself looking for the similarities and features that might link her to the bloodline she came from.

Taking hold of her hand, he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Before you leave, there is something I need to show you,” he said, his heart thumping harder behind his ribs as he used his wand to summon the file from its hidden place in his desk across the room. It landed gently on the table top in front of her.

“Andrew Larson found a file in the Ministry archives whilst tracing bloodlines of ancient magic. The file contained records of those who would be monitored by the Ministry for any signs of ancient magic emerging. It seems they assume it runs in bloodlines. Surprisingly, these files have not been swallowed up by the Department of Mysteries, and he was able to make a copy for me to show you. Your birth is one of those recorded, MC.”

She had been reaching for the file as he spoke, but paused and stared at it, her fingers beginning to tremble as she turned wide eyes on him. “My birth record?” She swallowed, eyeing the file with apprehension. “You mean, the Ministry has been watching me my whole life?”

He nodded, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze. “It would seem so. I can’t stress enough how restricted this information is, MC. Andrew and I had to smuggle this out of the Ministry. But, you need to see it. Just so you know, whatever you decide to do, I’m here to help if you need it. I’m on your side, MC. Remember that.”

“Bloody hell, Lee,” she said, her fingers gripping his hand back. “Do I even want to see what’s inside here?”

“Oh, you’ll want to see it,” he assured her. “I doubt you would believe me if I told you. I had to read it more than once to believe it myself.”

He saw the grit and determination light her eyes as she turned her attention back to the file. The subtle tightening of her jaw and the way she held herself as she took hold of the corner and opened the cover, proving that she was a lot tougher than she looked.

He wished things could have been simpler. He was just a normal Gryffindor, and he always doubted the Sorting Hat for placing him in that house. All his school life, he had tried to prove to everyone that he deserved that red and gold robe, that he was worthy. It was just his luck that he should fall for a girl in a rival house, and not just any rival, but a Slytherin witch born to be the most powerful, the most dangerous.

Leander held his breath, his heart beating double time as her eyes scanned the page, darting from side to side as whatever colour she had left in her skin drained away in her shock. He hadn’t been sure what her reaction would be to the revelation of who her family were, maybe he thought she would cry, or even throw the file back in his face and declare it a lie. She did none of those things, though.

Slowly, her lips began to curve into a slight smile, and when her gaze lifted to him, her eyes shone with unshed tears, but she didn’t look sad. Not at all. In fact, she looked almost happy.

“My mother…she…she’s alive,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. Her hand squeezed his so hard, it turned his skin white. “I always believed she was dead, but she is alive. I actually have a family.”

He nodded, slightly baffled at her optimism. “Did you see this part?” He prompted, gesturing towards the other parchment in the file. “It’s the record of your arrival at the children’s home in London.”

Her eyes dipped back down to the file, and he felt her stiffen as she saw the name of the person who had signed her over to strangers. She had been two years old when she had been signed in, the notes suggesting that she had been handed to the Aurors as an abandoned child, possibly orphaned. There were no death records for her mother, and given the family, it was highly suspicious.

“How can that be? I don’t understand…” She looked at him, her face so pale, the dark look in her eyes making him reach for her. “Why would Solomon Sallow sign me into an orphanage if my mother is alive?”

“I don’t know,” Leander said, shaking his head and wishing that he did. “Perhaps we can find out. We can do more digging. Andrew said he would keep searching.”

Tears flooded her eyes, and one escaped, rolling down her cheek as she stared down at the file. “Solomon knew who I was,” she croaked, licking her lips as another tear fell. “He knew.”

“I’m sorry, MC,” he whispered, holding her close and kissing her head. She clutched onto him as though fearing she might fall, her face so tight and haunted.

“Maybe that’s why he tried to kill me,” she said, her voice hushed, her eyes glassy as she stared at the form. “Oh Merlin, Lee. What if Sebastian knows as well? Maybe that's why he…”

Her words cut off abruptly, a violent shudder shaking her frame as she opened up her left palm to stare down at her blood scar. All Leander could do was hold her as she crumpled in his lap.

To be continued...

Tagging: @eternalremorse @slytherin-paramour @evaslytherpuff @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @loving-him-was-red13 @sevprince-91

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #leander prewett x mc #leander prewett #blood bound #blueraineshadows

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naushtheaspiringauthor · 5 months

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~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- none

A/N- lemme know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @nadeleine123n @marauders-wife

Ch-45 ~The tomb~

Tolya and Tamar had catched up with the rest of them after a long moment. After being taken away by Tolya, Mal had pleaded with him to go back to Alina and he’d let him. So he’d come back, with an unconscious Alina in tow. She appeared frail and wouldn’t have lived had it not been for the twins but the most notable change in her was her hair. What had been a dull brown, had now turned a dampened white.

They were being taken to someplace called the White Cathedral by the twins and a group of pilgrims. They travelled through tight passages and small tunnels, making them unable to recognize whether it’d been day or night. It was even worse in Anaya’s case, as she’d been immensely claustrophobic.

The situation only worsened when they reached the destination. The White Cathedral was a cavern of alabaster quartz, so vast it might have held a city in its glowing ivory depths. Its walls were damp and bloomed with mushrooms, salt lilies, toadstools shaped like stars. However, the entire place was underground.

It was buried deep beneath Ravka, somewhere north of the capital.

Alina held tight to Mal’s arm as they went to meet the Apparat.

“Sankta Alina, you are come to us at last.” he spoke Then he fell to his knees in his tattered brown robes. He kissed her hand and hem.

He called out to the faithful, thousands of them gathered in the belly of the cavern. When he spoke, the very air seemed to tremble.

“We will rise to make a new Ravka,” he roared. “A country free from tyrants and kings! We will spill from the earth and drive the shadows back in a tide of righteousness!” Below them, the pilgrims chanted. Sankta Alina.

There were rooms carved into the rock, chambers that glowed ivory and glittered with thin veins of silver. But the place was so far beneath the ground that it felt like a tomb to Anaya. Only worse, as she’d been alive.

The church was brimming with all kinds of people, pilgrims, First Army deserters, even those who were too old and frail came to have a sight of the Sun Saint.

It was only a while when she and the others had found out that Alina was unable to summon after the incident. So David had formed a mirror dish out of salvaged glass to reflect inferni fire. It’d been a believable illusion the people.

There was no indication of day and night there. The crammed place with no source of sights to the outer world was enough to make Anaya feel as if she’d been going mad.

However, Zoya did her best to distract her from her daunting emotions by talking with her about the memories from their childhood.

After a long while of being not too politely pleaded by Zoya, Anaya had finally decided to accompany her to the training area. A group had gathered to watch Mal spar with a humourless Fjerdan inferni, Stigg. He was the only surviving inferni along with Harshaw, who was nowhere to be seen after summoning the flames for Alina’s demonstration.

Mal dodged an arc of fire, but the second spurt of flame caught on his shirt. The onlookers gasped.Instead of drawing back, he dove into a roll, dousing the flames on the ground and knocking Stigg’s feet from beneath him.

In a flash, he had the Inferni pinned facedown. He secured Stigg’s wrists, preventing another attack. The watching sun soldiers broke into appreciative applause and whistles.

Zoya tossed her glossy black hair over one shoulder. “Well done, Stigg. You’re trussed and ready for basting.”

Mal silenced her with a look. “Distract, disarm, disable,” he said. “The trick is not to panic.” He rose and helped Stigg to his feet. “You all right?”

Stigg scowled, annoyed, but nodded and moved to spar with a pretty young soldier. “Come on, Stigg,” the girl said with a wide grin. “I won’t go too rough on you.” She had a black sun tattoed on her cheek, the mark of a Sun Soldier.

Anaya had been sparring with another young soldier when she noticed Alina standing in the company of the Apparat. She looked much healthier than she’d been when they’d came but she was still far from her old self.

She’d been noticing how the priest never seemed to allow her to spend any of her time with potential allies.

…………………………………………………..................................

For several days, they’d been discreetly plotting to get out of the church which seemed more like a tomb as the days went by. They needed to go back to the surface, and the Apparat seemed to be making great efforts to prevent them from doing so. He barely ever let them all be in the same room together, so they’d devised a rather erratic plot to make their move.

The only place that had a connection with above ground was the Kettle, the kitchen where Alina was allowed to see Genya. The place had something of utter use to them, the hearths. Each of those ancient hearths led to the master flue. And that flue was the only place in the White Cathedral with direct access to the surface. Direct access to the sun.

David, Mal, Zoya, Anaya and Nadia were taken in as “prisoners” by Tolya and Tamar, on the account of devising plots to bring down the White Cathedral.

As suspected, they were taken to the Kettle, where Alina and Genya had been. Zoya, Nadia and Anaya had their wrists bound, to prevent them from summoning. They were flanked by Tolya and Tamar.

“Lock the doors,” the Apparat commanded his guards “We will have this sad business done in private.”

#nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x oc

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 years

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Breath of the Sky Ch 6 (SS meets BotW)

Story Summary: When Princess Zelda goes to the Spring of Courage to pray, accompanied by her appointed knight, a giant magical cog spitting out a goddess is the last thing she expects, but it is what she gets. Meanwhile, the Spirit Maiden Zelda is trying to figure out what the heck is happening and where her missing husband/chosen hero is.

<<Previous chapter // Next chapter>>

Chapter 6: Expedition

Link scrunched his face as his body ached. He really needed to get out of bed. Looking to his side, he noticed that he was alone, and he grew confused.

Where was Zelda?

“Master.”

Link’s breath caught. The musical voice reverberated in the room, a voice that he’d been deprived of for ten long months, a voice that he thought he would never hear again.

Sitting up in the bed, eyes wide, he whispered, “Fi?”

He heard her song, the caressing, comforting melody that would hum as she entered or exited the sword. It clearly was coming from the door. Bolting out of the foreign bed, Link was in a large, cavernous hallway in an instant. Off in the distance, he saw a faint blue and purple glow.

“Fi!” he yelled, running as fast as he could. The hallway seemed to go on forever, but it wasn’t a repetitive pattern. The walls bore paintings of different people and images, one blurring into the next as he hastened to find his friend.

Eventually the hallway seemed to come to a dead end, a large semicircular vestibule of sorts lit up by countless candles. In the light were two figures facing away from him. One, a teenager around Link’s age, was kneeling on the ground, hugging himself and bending forward a little bit. He wore a blue tunic, and Link could see sturdy boots underneath him. His hair was fairly long, tied out of his face with a blue hair tie. Over him stood another figure, wearing a Skyloft knight’s armor, seeming to comfort the first one with a hand on his shoulder.

Link stared at the two, strangely entranced and feeling some sort of dread fill in his gut. The knight removed his hand slowly and started to turn. The first thing that immediately made Link uneasy was that he wore the same green as Link, yet the Chosen Hero knew he was the only one who received armor that year.

It became apparent as soon as the knight turned.

It was him.

But it wasn’t. This Link, this foreign Link, looked so much older. The same face with older eyes, exhaustion so apparent it sucked the vitality out of him. He looked battered, broken, and utterly spent. His eyes were dull, and under them were dark circles so prevalent they looked like bruises.

He heard a whimsical, oh so familiar chime, and then Fi was hovering over the two in the vestibule.

Slowly, this foreign Link raised his hand, pointing accusingly at Link. Then his skin started to peel away as if being burnt, leaving fat, then muscle, then bone. Link took a step away, horrified.

Cold laughter filled the room, and Link felt his own skin start to burn. He screamed.

Gasping, Link bolted into a seated position. He—what—where—he couldn’t breathe—

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. “Link, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Looking to his left, he saw Zelda beside him, her eyes worried. His chest burned, and he tried to catch his breath. She pulled his head to hers and let him rest his forehead on her until he was breathing steadily.

When he finally felt like he wasn’t going to burst, Link pulled away and then realized he was in a strange bed in a completely unfamiliar room. He whispered, “Zel, what happened?”

Because he really, honestly didn’t know. He remembered their wedding, remembered them going to sleep (crashing, really) at the end of it, remembered Groose banging on the door the next day, remembered flying to Lanayru… and then… wasn’t… there was the explosion! But wait—he had talked about this, Zelda had told him earlier that Groose was okay.

Earlier. Yes. When he’d said he was sore, and she’d said she’d get food from—

Wait, where were they?

Zelda took a deep breath, looking him in the eye. “Timeshift stones.”

“We’re in Lanayru Desert?” he asked, foggy headed and confused. The dream was still clawing at the edges of his mind, making his heart race as vestiges of adrenaline mixed with disorientation.

“No,” Zelda answered, looking away thoughtfully. “I think we might be somewhere in Faron's Province? But it was a long journey to get here so maybe not. I’m honestly not sure.”

Link looked around as she spoke, even more bewildered. They didn’t have anything like this on the Surface; they barely had homes built. Link and Zelda had only finally finished the walls, floor, and roof of their home. They’d only just gotten furniture as wedding gifts. This place was… well, Link had never seen such a strange looking house. It was made purely from stone and was a little drafty, and it had most of the furnishings of a house, but the bed was very large and had curtains, and there was no kitchen in sight.

“Who lives here?” he asked. He squinted at the wall, trying to remember how he’d ended up here from the mines of Lanayru. Vague, blurry images rose to the surface of his mind, but he couldn’t piece together what they meant. There was a memory of sitting on something moving and leaning against someone, a different memory of an old man with a weird golden circlet for a hat and a woman with a kind face… but he didn’t know how they fit into any of it.

“King Rhoam Bosphoramous Hyrule, I think.”

Link looked at her, bemused. “Who??”

Zelda shrugged. “That’s what he said his name was. But he’s not the only one, Link, there are so many people here.”

People? What people? None of this made sense! “How did we get here?”

“I followed you,” Zelda said softly, smiling at him and brushing some hair out of his eyes. “They found you at the sacred spring at the Skyview Temple. Or, well, what was left of it.”

“What was left of it?”

“Timeshift stone, remember?”

“Oh,” Link said dully, trying to piece everything together. “Wait, but those are in Lanayru, not Faron Woods.”

“I know. I didn’t say it made sense, it just is what it is.”

“So where’s the Timeshift stone?” Link asked. “Did Groose come too? Are the others here?”

“Link,” Zelda sighed, sitting up some more. “Look, let me start from the beginning. You and Groose were in the mine and it blew up, right? Well, your loftwing flew back to Skyloft and he was just downright frantic. I followed him to Lanayru and found Groose; he managed to fly himself back to Skyloft. We got search parties together and looked for you for two days, Link. Finally I realized that one of the Timeshift stones wasn’t acting right. Like it had been activated but there was no usual ring of the past sitting around, something was just different. I…”

Here she faltered, biting her lip. Link watched her worriedly, putting a hand on her shoulder in comfort.

“I used the Gate of Time,” she said finally.

Link’s eyes widened. “You did what?”

“It was the only way! We couldn’t find you!” Zelda argued.

“How the heck were you going to find me with the Gate?” Link asked. “It only goes back to—”

Link cut himself, refusing to bring it up.

Zelda shook her head. “I know how to manipulate the Gate, it was made by me.”

Link bit his tongue, still not really able to fathom that concept. “Right. Okay. So how did we get here?”

“Some people found you and brought you here. I followed once I arrived.”

“What people?”

Zelda sighed. “That’s what I’m still trying to figure out. This place… it’s… I don’t know. People know about Hylia here, and they know about you.”

“Wait, how do they know about me?” Link was even more bewildered now. Sure, there were legends of the goddess Hylia’s Chosen Hero, but they had been created for him, to guide him. Others knew of the legends, but they had no way of knowing who the actual Chosen Hero was.

“Link… we’re not in the past,” Zelda explained slowly. “We’re in the future.”

Oh. That made more sense.

Wait, what?!

“The future?” Link repeated, his mind whirling.

“Yeah. I… I don’t know how far into the future, but… yeah. They know… well, they’re calling me Hylia and you’re the Hero of Myth and Legend, from what I can gather.”

Link scrunched his nose at the concept, and Zelda giggled at his expression. Why were these people addressing Zelda as Hylia? That wasn’t exactly something the couple had decided to make public knowledge. It was something Zelda herself had been struggling to come to terms with, and Link had just been supporting her as best he could as she did so. He didn’t really know how to put the idea together, to comprehend that his wife used to be a goddess—was she still one? She used powers to seal away the Imprisoned, after all. Did that mean all the ceremonies and prayers they did to Hylia were meaningless because Hylia had been Zelda all along? What about when she said that she—

Link took a steadying breath, pushing the thoughts away. No. No. He wouldn’t think about that. What he would think about was how Zelda looked troubled at the prospect, what he would think about was that she was very clearly distressed over the entire ordeal.

So Link looked around, surmised what would be best to remedy the dilemma, and gave his wife a bright smile, poking her. “Well, why don’t we explore?”

Zelda blinked. “What?”

“Explore,” Link repeated. “Let’s go find out what’s going on.”

“You’re sick,” Zelda immediately argued, her tone brooking no argument.

Link usually let his wife guide him around and worry over him, and he was usually inclined to take any excuse to rest and relax, but today (tonight? It looked dark outside) he was going to be stubborn. “I’m fine. And we need to figure this out.”

Zelda watched him uncertainly, starting to cave in. She clearly did want to figure everything out. Her main hesitation was Link. He wasn’t going to let that stop her. Giving her a reassuring smile, he stretched and got out of the bed. “Come on, Zel. We’ve got an entire Surface to investigate.”

His wife chewed her lip, grasping for rebuttals.

“We can start by exploring this house, if you want,” Link tried to appease.

“Link, this place is enormous, we’ll never find our way out,” Zelda protested.

“Okay, then let’s go outside.”

“That’s the thing, we’ll never find our way outside!”

Link’s smile grew mischievous. “Do you have your sailcloth?”

“Yes,” Zelda answered hesitantly, brow furrowed as she tried to follow his train of thought.

Link grabbed a chair from the table and immediately smashed the single window in the room. “Then let’s go!”

Zelda jumped, startled, hissing, “Link! The guards will hear you!”

Link was already halfway out the window, reaching out to her with his arm. “Then hurry up!”

His best friend watched him a moment longer and then giggled, slipping her boots, belt, pouch, and sword on before running into his awaiting embrace. The two tumbled out of the window, and Link laughed as the air rushed over him.

Meanwhile, royal knights stormed into the room with concerned words on their tongues and they found an empty room, a shattered window, an overturned chair, and a fluttering cool breeze blowing through the air.

The knights looked at each other in apprehension, eyes blown wide. “Did… what…?”

“Nobody came in or out!” the other shouted, throwing his hands in the air.

“Is it the Calamity?!”

“Alert the others!”

XXX

“Hero!”

Link let out a startled snore as he jumped into a seated position. In the doorway to the barracks stood a royal guard holding a lantern.

“The Calamity has come!” the guard hissed. “It has taken the goddess and the Hero of Legend! Ready yourself for battle!”

Immediately alert, Link threw off the cover and grabbed the Master Sword, slipping some shoes on and throwing the champion’s tunic over his head. He tied his hair as he ran, heart racing, mind whirling.

This was it. This was it.

But the Calamity had taken the Hero and Hylia herself hostage? Link felt his blood run cold at the mere thought of it. What kind of power did this monster have if it could already overcome those two?

He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He’d stop it.

He rounded the corner and then his stride hitched as a thought tore through him.

What about the princess?

“Link.”

Jolting, Link whirled around to see a royal guard in the shadows. The man was impossible to see in the dark, but Link knew that voice like the back of his hand.

He snapped to attention as the guard turned to him a little bit.

“Go back to bed,” the man said tiredly. “The goddess and the Hero of Myth are missing, but there hasn’t been an attack. Anyone who thinks a goddess could be kidnapped so easily with no sign of the enemy is a fool.”

Link looked around uncertainly, eyes still wary, but the captain did speak logically. It was highly unlikely that Calamity Ganon had attacked and no one had noticed anything.

Perhaps the goddess and her Hero had returned to their own time?

“Link.”

He snapped to attention once more.

“Go to bed,” the captain repeated. “That’s an order. You have a long journey tomorrow. I’ll call you if we need you.”

Link hesitated for just a moment before nodding in acknowledgement and heading back for barracks. As he crossed through a courtyard, however, some movement caught his eye. Squinting through the darkness, Link crept closer to see the very missing figures themselves. He gasped softly and hid behind a pillar to allow himself time to assess the situation (and not at all because he didn’t want to be seen by the goddess or the Hero by himself in this courtyard). There didn’t seem to be any sign of distress between the two, nor were there any enemies in sight.

Hylia was hissing something to the Hero, who gasped and shoved her head down under some bushes as two guards patrolled by. Once the guards had passed, the two poked their heads over the bushes, looking almost ridiculously like children sneaking out past curfew.

“You should have put shoes on before we left!” Hylia whispered. “We’re going back to the room to get you some.”

“You said yourself we’d get lost!” the Hero replied.

“We can climb the wall,” Hylia argued.

“But the ivy over there is much easier to climb.”

“Link, you’re sick, we’re not making this worse!”

“Zel, we need to figure out what’s happening,” the Hero cut in, standing his ground. “This is the only way we’re going to get answers.”

Hylia opened her mouth to retort and then sighed instead.

Link stared at the pair, confused. The only way they were going to get answers? Figure out what was happening?

Did… did they not know what was happening? Link figured there was some confusion given what had occurred at the Spring, but…

Well, Zelda had said they were from the past. But again, Hylia was the goddess of time, shouldn’t she…? She should be able to…

Link shook his head. This was far beyond his ability to comprehend. Princess Zelda would be able to help him figure this out a bit more in the morning. The one good thing about all of this was he knew where they were, and he knew they were safe.

Backing out of the courtyard, he retraced his steps to track down the captain. When he saw the familiar face, he approached him.

The captain crossed his arms, and Link hesitated, feeling needlessly guilty, before standing at attention.

“I told you to go back to sleep, little knight.”

Link ignored the rebuke and said, “I found them.”

The captain’s eyebrows rose. “Report, then.”

“They’re in the southeast courtyard. They’re in good health and don’t seem to be in any distress. I don’t think any danger occurred to them. They seem…” Link paused, trying to find the right words to convey his observation. “Curious of their surroundings.”

“Did you speak with them?”

Link looked up at the captain, eyes wide and brow furrowed. He felt his face flush and he looked down, desperately trying to school his expression. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and blew it out evenly, and he was the stoic knight once more. He shook his head.

The captain’s gaze pierced into Link for a moment and then he looked away, sighing. “Very well. We’ll take it from here. Go to bed.”

Link nodded and departed quickly. He made his way back to his room directly and nearly slammed the door shut behind him, his head spinning.

This just kept getting weirder and weirder.

XXX

Link choked back a sneeze as his face got shoved into a flower bed by Zelda. Guards hastened by, shouting orders to each other about finding them. It almost reminded him of sneaking around Eldin Volcano. Except at least these weren’t bokoblins trying to kill him, and his lungs weren’t filled with soot, and his throat wasn’t swelling and burning and making him cough incessantly while his earrings glowed and magic kept him from straight up dying and—

Okay, maybe this was nothing like Eldin Volcano.

This was more like that one time Zelda and Link snuck out of the academy to go flying at night.

The pair reached the edge of the courtyard where ivy was growing over a wall, and Link glanced around hastily to make sure no one was in sight. Beckoning Zelda quietly, the two hopped onto the vines and started to climb. They were almost to the top when they heard footsteps below, and they nearly tore the vines off the wall in their effort to quicken their pace. Zelda reached the top first as Link started to gasp for air, and she pulled him up by his wrists, hauling him over the wall just in time as they ducked below the stone.

Link tried to hide the exhaustion that was starting to creep through him. He’d put his body through far worse – this was probably that pesky pneumonia trying to slow him down. He smiled at Zelda when she gave him a concerned look. Honestly, he’d love to go back to bed, but this area was bizarre and foreign and Zelda was stressed, so there was no point in attempting that.

Besides, this was kind of fun. And distracting. Distraction from nightmarish visions was good. Though this entire ordeal did raise more questions than it answered. Like who in the world were these people, why were there so many of them, and why were they looking for Zelda and Link like they were in some kind of prison and the inmates had just escaped?

The pair crawled to the other side of the wall and peered over to see how much more ground they needed to cover. It was hard to see much of anything in the dark, but Link could already appreciate just how enormous this house (didn’t Zelda call it a castle?) was. It was nearly the size of Skyloft itself.

Link sometimes marveled at just how expansive the Surface was. The fact that they could build such a structure was insane.

Zelda gasped, and Link returned his attention to the other side of the wall.

Was that… was that a town?! There was a Skyloft sized stone building and a town? Wait, no, this place was huge, that wasn’t a town it was bigger than that.

“This place is incredible,” Zelda whispered.

Link smiled at her excitement and nudged her with his shoulder. “Then let’s go check it out!”

Zelda hesitated a moment, glancing between Link and the large town, and Link gave his most reassuring expression possible while choking down another cough. Eventually he managed to convince her, and the two leapt off the wall, holding each other and pulling out Zelda’s sailcloth just before hitting the ground.

The cobblestone was a little uneven where they landed, making Link’s bare foot slip a bit, and he hissed at the cold damp sensation. Zelda immediately opened her mouth to say something and he waved her off, running ahead. “Come on, Zel!”

He buried a few coughs into his sleeve as he ducked around a house, and Zelda hurried after him. By the time she reached him he was breathing well and smiling, and she reflected the excited energy back at him. This place was so big – it was a little daunting, but since it was dark most of the people were asleep, which made it less intimidating.

Link’s heart ached a moment as he wished Fi could help guide them through this. The Surface had been so overwhelming when he’d first arrived, and she’d helped him every step of the way.

Shaking his head, he took Zelda by the hand and ran into the nearest street. His pneumonia and his grief could wait. Zelda needed cheering up, and they had an entirely new Surface to explore.

#SS Link is a gremlin #BotW Link is just so befuddled and nervous #new character introduction too!#I was going to go into their exploration of castle town but then it would take me a month to finish this blasted chapter #skyward sword #breath of the wild #breath of the sky #sksw #botw #fi #ss link #ss zelda #botw link #botw zelda #legend of zelda #writing

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buddy-arc · 11 months

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ender once again y.oma.wari 2 posting. but like (gets out my corkboard and thumbtacks) LISTEN .

throughout the game, it's progressively referenced that yui saved haruhi. i've been mulling over this for a few days now and it's only Just after i was screenshotting for sprites again that i connected some dots.

(under cut bc long post + images)

haruhi enters the malice cave after mr. kotowari removes the entrance barricade. periodically, throughout the cave, the screen flashes monochrome and yui appears. notably, she does some actions that haru, at present, has to do to avoid malice minions, like throwing a pebble and hiding in the nearby bushes. at one area, monochrome yui stumbles and falls, remaining seated on the ground for a few seconds with a terrified expression. she had encountered malice minions.

not only that, but the flashback closest to the boss area shows yui hauling haruhi out of the area ahead. this brief scene is immediately followed by:

yui and haruhi had been in malice's lair before. and i must remark, isn't it odd that yui's father died suddenly? isn't it odd that kuro died on the day before the fireworks? it all lines up. haruhi tells yui she will be moving away. tragedy after tragedy strikes yui.

haruhi is moving away. she would be out of malice's grasp. so, what does the evil spirit do? well, he makes situations for haruhi as horrible as possible by hitting her where it REALLY hurts: making her best friend, someone near and dear to her, suffer excruciatingly.

my estimate: yui's father dies. she's devastated - he's the parent she was closest to between him and her mother. yui latches onto her dogs and haruhi for comfort. one day, malice sends his minion and kidnaps kuro. yui and haruhi pursue the spirit up the mountain to the cave. haru herself gets taken by a minion, leaving yui alone to progress further. yui narrowly survives the encounters with other minions, and makes her way to the heart of the cavern.

malice taunts her with kuro and haruhi in his grasp. he tells her she can only choose one. through stressful tears, yui chooses haruhi. there's no question when it comes to that, after all. malice follows through on his word and releases haruhi, although not without her getting battered from the fall. yui carries haruhi out of the cave and to safety. then she heads and retrieves kuro... and we know what happened the day after aka the beginning of the game.

all that suffering resulted in malice easily being able to manipulate yui afterwards, be she alive or dead. notably, during malice's boss fight, he uses the same firework explosion attack that corrupted spirit yui does during her fight. in fact, during yui's boss fight, when she turns to look more human, she's grasping the sides of her head as she calls out. to a degree, malice was straight up forcing her to attack haruhi.

and for the cherry on top, malice made certain that haruhi would have survivor's guilt over the entire thing simply via the fact that yui saved haruhi from malice, but haruhi couldn't save yui from malice.

just. GAH........... this game. these girls. even in my yui-is-revived main verse, the guilt still festers and lingers and in a way it's worse because yui came back different. the changes are noticeable. her spirit is corroded, she doesn't smile as often, she's more subdued... the effects of malice are still prominent. and to haruhi, she would likely see it as her mistake for not being able to save yui. malice is such an awful and cunning villain who's getting what he wants either way, even if he's still recovering from the blows of the final boss fight.

#im so so normal and smooth brained over haru and yui and how they didnt deserve everything that happened to them #*through gritted teeth* im normal im so normal #🐦 | i'm a house wren / ooc.#death mention cw #pet death mention cw #dark content cw #past suicide cw #suicide mention cw #🐦 | media: yomawari.#✂️ | yui / studies.

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silentmeteorite93 · 7 months

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The Leaping Gazelles 8/34

Anxiety

Riding with her is like riding a roller coaster blindfolded, the feedback from every move is like opening a blind box, it's too late to camouflage and think when you feel a sharp turn, and the weightlessness that occurs from time to time always catches you off guard.

Unexpectedly and reasonably, the woman who admitted her love for her father without hiding it proposed to come to the hotel to find a man to talk by candlelight. The man also deliberately pretended to be busy with a meeting until the night came to agree to this meeting, in order to ensure that it does not interfere with his sleep he also repeated his own tired that day.

Sitting on the sofa in the lobby of the hotel waiting for the man, the woman took advantage of the geographical advantage of living next to the hotel to come to the appointment in just pajamas and slippers. In the empty lobby, she would have looked more like a long-time hotel guest than a man if it weren't for the uneasiness in her eyes. The same deep pattern was faintly visible on the nearly pure black pajamas, the long black hair and the white mask didn't suppress her stunning eyes, and the lines of her thighs and buttocks were just as intuitively and crudely displayed through the loose pajama trousers as they were when she stretched out her legs. Apart from the small portion of her face that was exposed to the air, the woman's wrists, neck, and ankles were equally slender and feminine, and the man could imagine her bruised and pathetic appearance just by glancing at them.

Apparently the woman's bright eyes did not have the same excellent eyesight, she failed to spot the man in the distance, and the way she looked down at her mobile phone and tugged at her neckline from time to time made her a weak deer in the headlights in the eyes of the man, fragile and delicious. The man holding the woman's white hand maliciously brought up the out-of-character topic of the previous conversation on his way to his room, their footsteps on the heavy carpet made no sound, only the sharp and shameful questions still drifted in the long corridor. Before the woman had time to think of a decent answer to these blush-inducing questions, the man slipped his hand into her loose neckline. The woman was just about to work surprise out of her blank brain when the man withdrew his hand, obviously just wanting to make sure that the woman had indeed vacuumed up for her appointment as he thought she had. At this moment the woman realized that her answer no longer mattered, so moments later entering the room she accepted her fate as a victim.

The numb lamb was then led into the unknown cavern, the frescoes on the walls may not be well understood, the hissing and fire in the depths of the cavern was horrific enough.

The man naturally flopped back down on the big bed to signify the need for a massage because he was on home turf, and the woman quietly began the rusty service with little delay. Her movements as she gently climbed onto the bed and onto the man's back were careful and submissive, and the man sighed as he turned his back on the woman, sighing in his mind that the erotic images he had once longed for were now losing their impact, but that the impulse deep in his genes drove him to give in to another, more boring desire over and over again. He rolled over and signaled the woman to undress, then picked up his large camera from the bedside table and pointed it at her, and with numerous clicks of the shutter the woman bit her lip and removed her clothes. Round and heavenly full breasts almost jumped out joyfully from within the clothes, delicate skin simply radiated a halo. The woman wasn't moving quickly, though, and still the man didn't have time to get a good look from behind the camera. She stood naked on the edge of the bed, her small palms not blocking her beauty. The man yelled at her to lift her bowed head and drop her guarded hand. The woman in the shot was as confused and helpless as a frightened white rabbit, which made the malevolent impulse in the man's heart rise like a bonfire thrown into a strong drink.

The gesture of submission and not saying a word never doused the man's nameless fire, and he was now enjoying the woman's delicate bathing of herself while mentally dissecting this long overdue introspection of his emotions. The woman, who did not enjoy the warm water rushing over her, was wet from the water splashing out of the man's body and became a pathetic water dog, with tiny droplets of water condensing on her long hair that had been coiled up at some point. The man looked at this strange sufferer really is a doctor as she said, that carefully cleaned every inch of the skin of the technique and attitude than the former people's piety as a mechanized process. Once in the bathroom himself he couldn't control his meaningless thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder what this manipulation and suppression and the abuse and humiliation that would inevitably follow meant to him. He could enjoy and contribute to the pleasure and hadn't hidden that preference in the slightest from those around him. The man was fine with being called twisted or perverted and didn't want to give every playmate through the ages the title of elegant and intelligent. He suspected that all this series of instinctively adept behaviors was the same to him as a child's love of jigsaw puzzles or dolls.

Speaking of dolls, as the man watched the water droplets gathering in the woman's hair like jewelry to accent her features, instead of keeping the doll as delicate and beautiful as was the mainstream practice, he pressed the woman underneath him. Kneeling on the hard and rough bathroom floor let the woman clung woefully and stiffly to her earlier cleaning routine, only this time with her hands propped helplessly on the man's thighs, relying on her mouth for the rest of the job. The falling thick stream of water and the slowly expanding foreign object in her mouth made it harder and harder for the woman to breathe, and the man gripping her by the hair obviously didn't care, he even began to pound on the woman's throat as if there was some unspoken beef between the two of them. Looking at the crotch of the woman focused and difficult to fight dry heaving, aggrieved and helpless to withstand his own impact, the man felt that just now the many conjectures in the "find a sandbag to vent their anger" this one is the most consistent with the current explanation. Though he didn't know where the anger came from, and why it was like a maggot in his bones that he couldn't get rid of.

He switched off the shower, grabbed the woman by the hair and dragged her to the bed and sat back on it. The towel he'd grabbed on the way had no intention of drying the woman off, and he wiped his reddened body from the hot water as he looked at the wretched woman with her head down. With his heel he hooked her, who still had a multitude of fluids on her face, towards him, signaling to her, who was not yet steady on her knees, to continue her service. Sure enough the strange woman quickly understood and immediately took over what she had just done. He grabbed his camera to record the chaos and harmony of the moment, the woman's make-up in the picture was no longer delicate, the eyeliner that had been natural and fresh a moment ago was now a remnant of the black tear stains that were generally etched shockingly on that hard and busy face because of the bath water or tears. The reddened sockets and bloodshot eyes were not sure if they originated from the dry-heaving or the rush of the water just now, and combined with the unidentified liquid that stretched from the corners of the woman's mouth all the way down to her chin formed a hysterical and beautiful image. Not to mention that after coming out of the bathroom, the last of the woman's dignity was also washed down the drain with her. The same gentle hands as earlier had now become not only supportive but also uneasy probing, and the still hot and slippery mouth was not only taking care of one part of the body without any bad angle, but also started to open up other battlefields on its own. Enlightened like slender fingers and flexible tongue began to spread from the VIP's private order to the other two unimpressive brothers. From the youthfulness of closing their eyes tightly a moment ago to now looking fondly at the camera, that inviting gesture was still cute even in such an unfavourable image. Before the man's laughing curse could arrive, however, the woman put her shoulder and arm up against one of the man's legs. She closed her eyes in fascination and began to suck on the more difficult-to-care-for parts, the sudden warmth and acceptance really surprised the man. The man unilaterally ended the woman's desperate charge as her naughty tongue continued to push in and her hand fiddling picked up speed.

He let the overwhelmed woman who thought she had made a mistake crawl from the floor to the bed and looked at her almost worn-out knees without expressing his desire to torture woman. Waiting for the look of relief on the woman's face when she saw the whip instead, the man felt like he had found a toy he wouldn't get tired of for some time to come.

Due to the occasional various photo shoots within the hotel he was staying at, he had two just professional-looking fill-in lights next to the bed. The two lights, one on the left and one on the right illuminated everything that was happening near the bed through diffuse reflections. The man watched with great satisfaction as the woman's white and small nose sniffled and sniffled, scared but still twisting her head every now and then to see what the man was going to destroy her high pouting arse and paws dangling over the edge of the bed with yet more pain that was clearly evident and she was holding back too much to speak out. The woman's restrained but ineffective attempts to suppress her screams of anguish only served to make the man show off his skills more and more.

Behind the woman, the man still had an endless array of tricks and props to play with, but the extraordinarily white and tender flesh in front of him was already gradually stained with a variety of colors, like painting on a pure white canvas, with each brushstroke being particularly conspicuous. Not being able to analyze her limits by the strength and frequency of her grip on the sheets now at first sight, the man intended to stop in moderation. He pulls open the drawer of the bedside table, and the sound of various objects crashing inside due to inertia scares and excites the woman. Due to the angle the woman didn't realize what was in the drawer until she felt the cold lubricant that had fallen on her from on high and she realized how well prepared the man was. Before she had time to think about who all these props had been used on, her mind went blank from the sudden fullness beneath her. A sense of accomplishment surfaced within him with difficulty in restraining himself as he watched her pained expression and the similar helpless look that regular people had at this point in their lives. Especially after wickedly plugging the other party's ears for her, the cry of complete emancipation of self even made the man would worry about disturbing the next door.

The cold air contributed by the air conditioner suddenly took form, leaving a long-lasting trajectory in the limited space of the house. The heat radiating from the two sizzling flesh by the bedside was not lost in the confrontation with the cold air.

The two who made eye contact were reckless with pleasure. It took only a look from the woman and a slight movement of her hand for the man to understand. The slap came so quickly that the woman couldn't even associate it with the fact that she had only just asked for it. At first the man was getting used to it, then after it was smooth, he would only regret that his left hand was uncomfortable with the force and often not loud enough. He knew that folding presses and chokes were most compatible now, and he certainly wasn't going to let the opportunity pass. The stormy, malevolent pour of displacement and center of gravity after taking complete control of his opponent was mesmerizing, and the man was reminded of the violent ride of a spring-loaded rocking chair in the park he went to play in as an adult.

Switching back and forth constantly, the man wanted to test the woman's limits in one breath. He tried to go as hard as he could even with the one pulls out of his body, grabbing the woman by her hair and pulling her in front of him to fill her respiratory system with his own body. Repeatedly pulling her back to him again as she tried to push herself away. The sensation of that churning and squeezing of the throat was not something the man had ever experienced, but the devastation of the redness and swelling of the larynx that made it impossible to speak he decided to give to her as a gift anyway.

Stretching and folding her body in a variety of ways, a layer of moisture seeped from her smooth skin. Instinctively and helplessly, she tossed her head and rotated her wrists, the man couldn't appreciate but also marveled at the delicate nails clawing futilely at the air. Involuntarily, the force of the thrusts against the man intensified with more and more frequent and heavy impacts, but unfortunately to no avail. This truly beautiful and maddening woman tended to self-destruct and did not leave the slightest doubt about the impending extinction.

The man looked to his watch as he stabbed at the innocent soul and the flesh that was nearing its limit. Both the latissimus dorsi and triceps had long since been overwhelmed by repeatedly yanking the woman towards him, and they had unsurprisingly fallen victim to a confrontation with such large muscle groups as the glutes and hamstrings. And the poor woman stood no chance against this heartless man. The man wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking at the woman's equally perspiring flesh and the headphones that rolled into the distance, he had no intention of stopping. It was a shame to say that many times when harsh or even rough moments were needed, the man would kind of want to laugh once he saw how helpless the woman looked as she babbled and tried to push away or grab onto something as she was being savagely and sturdily pounded. It happened so often that the man, who had always been good at self-reflection, could do nothing for himself, but he just couldn't hold back the momentary giggle. After all, the monotonous mix of banging and wailing was always a pleasant way to get into the groove of working out at all times, and this particular technique of secretly imagining the other person as a fitness program wasn't something even he, someone who took pleasure in tormenting and humiliating her, could easily say.

The messy sheets couldn't be seen as neat as they had been a moment ago, and the white, full pillows were cushioned under equally white, full, and unexpected parts of the bed. All kinds of clothes and props were scattered on the floor in this circle around the bed. Although it was the first time they had met, the man was not surprised to hear what the woman was calling herself at the moment. There was no semblance of truth in what the woman said about her love of pain and fatherhood. Likewise, speaking in a joking tone about her having once-in-a-lifetime flesh wasn't empty. It was only when the man edited the video afterwards that he lamented the fact that the art-like body and beastly movements of the person appearing on camera really shouldn't be limited to the two people present to appreciate. She was so engaged and enjoying herself, both in pain and cold sweat and lost in lust. While the man still struggled to understand the logical relationship between the two, there was a vague bit of understanding of the need for rough discipline and excruciating pain to heal her mind when she was supposedly in a slump. She would occasionally look at the man seriously, lest he think he was joking. The words she repeated about the pain she wanted to pursue during her downturn and her desire to be used violently were words that the man could even memorize. In the ensuing companionship those words were indeed validated repeatedly, the vent-like approval and affirmation more exaggerated than ever, and there were even times when the only man in the room began to worry about her vocal cords and other body parts.

The countless drilling and midway refueling that made the man really believe in the woman was almost as bizarre as the tried and tested tactic that a dried up well can burst into water flow just by being abused and beaten, and the man was staggered. He was pleasantly surprised to realize, once again, that not everyone in the world had the ability to act and the guts to punish their wrong-doing selves as he did. And occasionally someone would want a character like the man to make an appearance. Preferring to cause others the pain they wanted could make a man doubly happy. Probably this is how a man who is not afraid of external judgement convinces himself. He probably never wanted to help others; he was just happy to see pleasing himself while others benefited at the same time.

The essence of life is pain, the essence of life is desire. Women infected by men with the vice of frankness naturally fell in love with the feeling of expressing their own desires, the blunt and painful language often make men are laughing. The bond of being busy during the day and meeting again at night to vent continued for a long time, so long that the man didn't know whether to be ashamed of the twisted anger he had built up or to give praise to the woman for being so submissive. The kiss that was left on the woman's forehead as the man left during the day carefully connected two unrelated islands.

#poem #writers #books & libraries #writing

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unstablewifiaccess · 1 year

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Kiss of Death Excerpt

I’ve been working on one of the new scenes, where Jane meets the man who wants the grimoire, instead of her never officially meeting him and just seeing him in the cavern. This will cement him as more of an antagonist than I had him be before.

Supper went on, with Jane sitting there in silence as the two men made small talk. As their plates emptied, she decided to remove them while they paid her no mind, continuing their conversation.

Washing the dishes was one of the more calming moments of Jane’s day, as it was an almost guarantee everyday that she could be alone with her thoughts. Just her, the water basin, and the constant stream of consciousness in her mind. In the background she could still hear her father and his friend chatting away in the small dining room. She couldn’t quite hear what they were talking about, but it seemed to be a jovial conversation filled with laughter. It hit Jane that she had no idea why this man was in her home, since it wasn’t for counsel purposes- he wasn’t from here, it wasn’t common for outsiders to have one on one meetings with island elders, especially in their homes. She hadn’t even been given a name, having to only refer to him as “that man”.

Suddenly, Jane was filled with unease about the stranger in her house. For her father to not even give her this man’s name meant that he was hiding something from her, and Jane’s gut was screaming that something was wrong. The last time she had gotten this feeling, her mother had left. She suspected that was why her mother had put her to bed with a story that night, to calm her down. The memory flashed before her eyes- the image of waking up to her mother gone, her paranoid fear coming true after all. She set down the last dish, looking over into the other room at the men. Their laughter had stopped, replaced by intense whispering. Her father leaned in close to the man with an expression Jane only saw on his face when he was dealing with a tough client or a rough counsel meeting.

Jane wondered what would happen if she went back in there. More than likely they would change the subject or go quiet, as her father always did when she tried to see what was going on. He had killed off most of the curiosity she had harbored over the years with his belief that women were to be seen and not heard.

#Kiss of Death #KOD #I just want to rush this part but its so important in the end #I just want to write more Lukas scenes but I cant because she hasn't met him here yet

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mayasaura · 2 years

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For real tho, I really am sure that Harrow has known from the beginning who Gideon’s father is, and just hasn’t let herself process it.

Spoilers for both Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth under the cut. Obviously. All images have alt-text.

Look at everything she knows.

She knows that Gideon failed to die after being exposed to an extremely lethal quantity of neurotoxin as a baby, and that there’s no known explanation as to how, and she’s known that since they were both very young.

She may even have already known about the nerve gas when she and Gideon were having their fight about whether or not it mattered who Gideon’s parents were, when she asked Gideon to provide evidence that her unknown parent might be someone important.

And, of course, she also knows that Gideon and her mother literally fell out of the sky the day Gideon was born, and no one knows how they got there or where they came from.

If Harrow took any time to think through all the factors, and she is the type to do so, she would know that she opened the Locked Tomb with Gideon’s blood on her hands. The fight they had beforehand was. Fairly memorable, even with everything that followed.

She definitely knows that the key to the Locked Tomb is the blood of the Necromancer Divine, and she knows that bloodline carries traits of necromantic significance. Both of these things factor into her role as the warden of the Locked Tomb, and she mentions them both in the Pool Scene when she’s telling Gideon about why she exists and her decision to open the Tomb.

And she’s had seven years to think about all this by the time they leave for Canaan House.

This is obviously enough time and information for her to put the pieces together. I know because it was enough information for me to put the pieces together, and while my therapist tells me I’m pretty smart, I can say without shame that I’m not the greatest anything of my generation.

But did she put it together? I think so.

The most obvious sign of Harrow knowing is the third River bubble, the Royal Ball AU that casts Gideon as Her Divine Highness. It’s an awfully interesting coincidence. But what’s even more convincing to me is what Harrow no longer knows in chapter 3 of Harrow the Ninth, the flashback chapter that explains Harrow’s perception of her own history immediately following her lobotomy.

Immediately after cutting every connection to Gideon out of her brain, before her neural pathways have had any chance to heal and patch over, Harrow has forgotten about the blood ward on the Locked Tomb.

She remembers opening the initial door, making her way down the trapped corridor, and then nothing. No being stymied by a ward or second door. No difficult obstacle to overcome. In her redacted memory, there is no blood ward. She goes straight from the corridor to the cavern.

If she didn't strongly associate Gideon with the blood ward, why would cutting Gideon out of her mind also remove the ward? And what reason would Harrow have to associate Gideon with the ward, if she didn’t know Gideon was the key she used to break it? And if she knew that Gideon’s blood opened the Tomb-

Well.

Knowing all of that, the leap of logic from Gideon's blood to Gideon's unknown parent, from the unknown parent to Gideon's immortality, is so small. It's obvious. If Harrow didn't make it, it's only because she didn't want to. She certainly could have.

#the locked tomb #harrowhark nonagesimus #harrow nonagesimus #gideon nav #tlt meta #harrow the ninth #htn spoilers

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electronikmilk · 3 years

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Papa’s Punishment

alternative title: Accidentally Fucking Around and Finding Out

ive been working on this for so long and im sick of lookin at it

rating: explicit/nsfw

Copia x f reader

contains: dom copia, possible abuse of power, spanking, and pet play.

You had dozed, then awakened to find that you were still bound in Copia's ornate bed-chamber deep within the abbey walls.

No, he wasn't Copia anymore. He was Papa now. And you had to address him as such when he wore the paint. That was what he said when he had his Ghouls drag you into his chamber after you had called him the silly little nickname that the other sisters called him behind his back as a joke. Ratman. It was innocent enough since he was fond of the small rodents, or so you thought. Copia's face had grown dark as soon as you uttered it, and it frightened you enough to fall silent after a fit of giggles. Then he reached out and gripped your chin tight before leaning close to address you.

"Mm. Funny." He said in a way that sounded like he didn't find it funny at all and glared down at you, "It is bold of you to be disrespectful to your Papa when he wears the paint. And that is all I will be to you now. I'm not Copia, not Cardinal, and especially not Ratman. I am Papa, and I will not accept any other title, sister. Perhaps a little lesson is in order so you will remember this."

Before you could say anything, Copia snapped his fingers, and that was when his two Ghouls surrounded you, grabbed you by the arms, and marched down the halls with you in tow. Everyone within the corridors stopped and watched as the Ghouls dragged you along. Two sisters from the convent whispered to each other and turned their gazes away as if they might be taken away at any second too. They knew where you were going, and it was sure as hell somewhere they didn't want to be, for it was a place of great shame and mystery. You let your head drop in humiliation before your peers, not standing the way they saw you. It was a relief when you finally arrived at Copia's chamber and were taken inside. You said nothing to the Ghouls as they fastened leather cuffs around your ankles, then bound your hands over your head with silk rope.

"Sorry, sister," One of them had said. They removed the coif and veil of your habit, then pulled out the pins that held your hair in place so that it fell loose, "We're just following Papa's orders. I'm sure you understand."

All you gave them was a contemptuous look until they left.

You had struggled against your restraints until you eventually gave up, falling asleep despite your buttocks pushing against the hard stone wall behind you. How long had that been? There was no clock or window in the room, so it was hard for you to tell. Perhaps a few hours. Long enough for you to wake up with a sore neck, anyway. The room itself lay in shadow and unbroken stillness. You winced as you turned your head to look around the room. The only illumination offered to you was from a small antique lamp on an ink-stained writing desk in the corner. The dim light threw long uneven shadows on the high arched ceiling above. A king-sized bed sat against the wall opposite you with a canopy bed frame draped with black cloth. It made it look like a dark, cavernous mouth that was ready to swallow you whole. A tall mahogany bookshelf containing several taxidermied rats positioned in various poses stood near the door. You made a face at the furry ornaments. It was definitely Copia's room.

Your stomach growled, and the sound of it in the stillness of the room made it seem more like a lion's roar. How long Copia planned to keep you in here and what his intentions were, you didn't know for sure. You just hoped he wouldn't starve you. The thought sent a sudden jolt of panic through you; your mind flashed images of you left to rot in a cell in the abbey basement. You knew that the cells had been abandoned for centuries, just collecting dust and acting as storage for Yuletide decorations. But Copia had changed since he finally became Papa Emeritus IV. You had always thought him awkward as a Cardinal, sometimes even amusing in his antics, but he was always just that: awkward, no one to be scared of. It was a curious and abrupt transformation; He held his head high now, and his stride was no longer unsure or clumsy. When he wore the paint, he had an air of authority, of strength and pride no one knew he had. He wanted respect, and he demanded it among the clergy with an iron fist. Everyone was to address him as Papa only and woe unto anyone who didn't comply. At first, you had to admit his newfound confidence in his power was something to admire, covet even. That is until the sisters of the order were no longer safe from his wrath, then it became something to be feared. Copia had forgiven slips of the tongue and had given warnings that he said he would only offer once. If it happened again, however, there would be a severe punishment to follow.

Sister Claire was the first to be punished. Claire had always been hotheaded and often butted heads with her superiors for the sake of her own amusement. She had been no different with Copia two months ago. On your way to your weekly duty to clean the chapel, you stumbled upon Copia, two Nameless Ghouls, and Claire in the middle of the empty hall. You seemed to go unnoticed by all four. Curious, you slipped into one of the corridor's alcoves and peeked around the corner, as not to be seen. As you listened closely, you caught the tail end of a heated argument over the state of the abbey's gardens. Claire was on a tirade, ranting about how Copia's lack of dedication to employing a proper gardener made the grounds look like it was in shambles. She had addressed the new Papa as Cardinal several times, much to Copia's irritation. The former Cardinal stood back with folded arms and a frown while the hot-blooded sister babbled on about how this needed attention and how that needed fixing. She addressed him incorrectly the entire time. It amazed you how bullheaded Claire could be.

"Cara," Copia finally interrupted after Claire had called him Cardinal for the fifth time, his voice becoming stern. "I understand that you're upset, but I have made it more than clear that everyone within this church is to call me Papa. And frankly, I will not tolerate your blatant disregard for my rules."

"Don't you 'Cara' me!" Sister Claire shot back, " And I'll call you Papa when I'm damn well good and ready. But until then, I think I'll keep calling you Cardinal, Cardinal."

"Basta! Enough!" Copia shouted suddenly, grabbed Claire by the wrist, and dragged her behind him as he headed further down the hall, luckily away from your direction. "I have been patient with you, sister, with all of you. But no more!"

Claire resisted, trying to wrench from his grasp and yelling at him to let her go. Copia ignored this and tugged her along anyway. When she started cursing and slapping at him, Copia gestured for a Ghoul to take her about the waist and carry her. Claire shrieked like a banshee and kicked her legs in the air when she was lifted. Copia gave the Ghoul a sharp command for them to silence her, and the Ghoul clapped a hand over Claire's mouth, muffling the scream as they hauled her away. You watched the whole display in shock, unable to move or look away. When all four of them disappeared around a corner, you crept out from your hiding place on shaky legs. You quickly made your way to the chapel without encountering anyone else, and it was a relief to you. You tried to put what you saw out of your head, but as you tended to your regular duties, the sound of Claire's screams resonated in your head.

You didn't see Sister Claire again until late into the evening. She seemed no worse for wear, having neither a bruise nor scratch on her. But she was timid, quiet, and obedient, you noticed when Sister Imperator asked her to sweep and wash the floor, which she almost scurried to do. When the other sisters asked her where she had been, Claire just shook her head frantically. Her pretty face grew red, and a look of shame and fear that concerned you twisted her features.

"I can't tell you!" was all she said and nothing more.

It wasn't too long until other insubordinate sisters fell victim to Copia's fury. Each one disappeared into his chambers for hours at a time, and when they were set free, none of them spoke of what they went through. You could only speculate, and what you brewed up in your head terrified you. All manner of dark medieval tortures often raced by: pears of anguish, iron chairs, Spanish donkeys, breast rippers, and thumbscrews. You knew all of that was impossible, however. None of the other sisters had a mark on them when they returned; they barely even a hair out of place, so what kind of punishment was wicked enough to force them all into silence? Whatever it was, you tried so hard to avoid it. You never spoke out of turn, tended to your duties without complaint, you even baked a cake for Copia on his birthday. But despite all your effort, misfortune still befell you over a joke that wasn't even that funny. Your throat tightened as tears began to prickle behind your eyes, and you dreaded what kind of torment waited for you in this dark room.

You were almost lost in your contemplation of it all when you heard the heavy wooden door open. You saw the tall, lean figure of Copia enter the room and close the door behind him, a plate of food in one hand and a blood-red velvet bag in the other. He almost seemed like a specter, dressed in a figure-hugging black suit --the one that you said he looked handsome in to gain his favor. His face was bare of paint, save for his eyes. He had lined them with black, smudged eyeliner, making his mismatched gaze smoldering and intense.

He made his way to you with both items in hand. He stayed back a few feet, the velvet bag swinging slightly at his side. The faint aroma of roasted chicken found your nose, and the delectable smell of it made your mouth water. Copia gazed at you with narrow eyes, his expression unreadable. You lowered your eyes and sucked in a breath, petrified of what was to come. You waited for yelling, cursing, for the food to be thrown at you, anything, but Copia just muttered something under his breath, went to place the plate and bag on the bed, then returned to undo all your restraints. You stood there free with stiff, aching arms. You wanted to stretch them but didn't dare make any movement that Copia might disapprove of. You kept your eyes down, only bringing them up once to see Copia sit on the edge of the bed with the plate in his lap, then darting them back to the floor. You felt the subtle pressure of his gaze on you for what seemed like a long time.

"Come here." Copia finally broke the silence.

You obeyed and took a tentative step forward.

"No." He said sharply, making you freeze, "On your hands and knees. Crawl to me."

Your head jerked up, eyes wide in shocked disbelief. Your breathing hitched, and your heart started to hammer. You hesitated, and Copia frowned at you. He raised his gloved hands and slapped them together once, hard. It sounded like the cracking of a whip in the quiet. "Now, sister."

You let out a little yelp and dropped to your knees. You hurried as you crawled over to Copia, stopping just before his feet. He gave a hum of satisfaction.

"Ah, excellent. You're obedient. That is good, my dear. It will make your ordeal go more smoothly."

Ordeal. The word made you shudder.

"But first, you must be hungry, si? You've been waiting here a long time."

Your stomach let out another grumble. You said nothing. You kept your eyes fixed on the glossy leather of Copa's black shoes as your apprehension deepened. You didn't want to look up at him; all at once, he seemed large, mighty, and terrible, like he could crush you underneath those patent leather soles if he so desired. He could make you suffer, and no one would witness it. It was just you and Copia. You and Papa.

"Say 'yes, Papa' or 'no, Papa,'" Copia said. "And I'm sure I don't need to tell you to be respectful."

"I...I-" You stammered, then you swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself, "Yes, Papa."

"Good girl." He said. "Now, kneel up and look at me."

You did as commanded, and you realized as you looked up at him that you were crying. Through the blur of tears, you saw Copia's hand reach for your face. You flinched a little, then relaxed when you only felt the fingers wipe away your tears and smooth your hair back almost affectionately.

"Oh, come now. I have not been mean just yet, my dear. Don't cry." He soothed, "There will be plenty of time for that later, but if you're well behaved and do what I say, Papa will be gentle with you. Do you understand?"

You nodded, sniffling and letting Copia caress your face. It comforted you, if only a little bit.

"Answer me properly,"

"Yes, Papa. I understand." You said.

"Very good, very good," Copia said. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead before letting you eat the slices of succulent chicken breast on the plate with your hands. After you finished, he took a sprig of green grapes and fed them to you one at a time. He watched in obvious amusement when you spat the seeds into your hand and timidly discarded them onto the plate, careful of every move you made. When he got to the last three, he took one and held it up just out of your reach. He smiled when you blinked up at him, confused.

"Up, cara," He said, "Show me a trick."

You bit your lip, blushing, and again, you hesitated. You shook your head before you realized what a mistake it was. Immediately, Copia took the plate, set it aside, and then gathered you up to toss you over his lap so that your legs dangled over the floor. You gasped in surprise and fear when he flipped your skirt to expose your panties. When you felt the sting of his gloved hand spank you hard, you couldn't help but let out a cry. One great slap after another fell on your buttocks, sounding thunderous in your ears. You heard yourself taking in sharp gasps of pain with each strike. His hand seemed solid and heavy like a paddle as it spanked you, over and over, hitting you on the right cheek, then the left, and then covering your thighs with smacks while your ass stung and throbbed. You clenched your teeth to stifle your cries, and when you tried in vain to wiggle away, Copia held you in place and rewarded you with more vigorous blows, swift ones that whipped you like a strap. And soon, you realized you were becoming frantic, tears streaming down your cheeks. You tried to be still, but your body squirmed and writhed of its own accord. Now Copia worked only the backs of your thighs, where the punishing hand lingered and struck hard until you were sure that the flesh there was red and inflamed.

"Papa, please!" You finally wailed and broke into choking sobs.

The blows stopped. You didn't move. You just shut your eyes and wept as Copia's hand now moved along your buttocks languidly. He stroked your thighs as if to soothe them.

"Now, do you see why I ask you to do as I say?" Copia crooned, "I can be cruel, sister. Much more than this, I assure you. The other sisters know what I can do, especially Sister Claire. She knows the worst of it. Lucifer's name, she was like a devil herself, all teeth and claws until I tamed her. The other Papas have spoilt her and the others rotten. Not just the sisters, but the brothers, too, and the priests, the bishops. They all have little to no manners, no respect. So I have to take it upon myself to teach them."

You shook against his legs as he told you this. He rubbed little circles in the small of your back, then he squeezed your buttocks, sending a rush of sensation along your body that made you flush. You thought of poor Sister Claire and what she must have gone through that was enough to break her. Vivid images of whipping belts, heavy wooden paddles, and flesh crisscrossed with angry welts made your stomach sink, so you stopped.

'I have to be good.' You thought. It was better to surrender than suffer the same fate as the others, better to leave with your good reputation with Copia intact. After all, he said he would be gentle if you obeyed, and you decided you would. You hoped he would keep his word, and you let your body slacken in resignation.

"I like to play games with them." Copia continued, "I like to order them around the room, fetching whatever I throw for them because it pleases me or whatever else suits my mood. Sometimes I even strap them down and use the paddle. But I never hurt them, not severely. I happen to be a reasonable man, after all. Oh, but that would be too hard for you, wouldn't it? You're too sweet for the paddle, too soft. It's just a pity you disobey me, call me names. Do you think yourself too good to call me by my proper title, sister? Too good to follow my direction?" His hand tightened threateningly on your thigh, then you felt it leave your skin, and you were terrified he might spank you again.

"No, Papa," You said in a panicked whisper.

"Do I need to punish you like the others?"

"No, Papa. I'll be good, I promise."

"Yes," Copia sighed, his hand now playing with your hair instead of punishing you, "You will be perfect for me, won't you?"

"Yes, Papa."

"Good."

Copia pulled you back up and set you on the floor. You had stopped crying, though your lips still trembled. You knelt there and awaited his command. Again, he took a grape and held it up for you. This time you didn't hesitate to take it from his fingers with your mouth. He held the next one high enough to make you raise yourself up on your heels to get it. He then tossed the last grape into the air, over your head so that it bounced and rolled a few feet away when it hit the floor.

"Fetch, little puppy." He commanded, a smirk playing on his lips.

You obeyed shyly. When you crawled back and dropped it into Copia's open hand, he let out a hearty laugh.

"You're easy to train." He said and popped the fruit into your mouth, "Perhaps I should make you my little pet when we're finished here."

You didn't really want to eat it, but you did anyway, seeds and all. Copia beamed at you, his smile genuinely kind.

"Lovely, my dear." He whispered, his voice low and sweet. Then he gathered you in his arms once more and kissed you deeply. It sent a shock through you, settling into a knot in your stomach that made you shiver against your will. Copia kissed the smoothness of your forehead, kissed your soft hairline, your eyelids, and the tip of your nose. They were tender, gentle, like butterflies that brushed against your skin with their silky wings, and you lifted your head to receive them. He kissed your cheeks, then returned to your parted lips. You let out little sighs as he kissed you despite your fear, which now melted away a little bit as your body seemed to soften all over. Copia moved and rose to stand, pulling you up with him into his embrace. He pulled you closer to his body once you were steady on your feet; his kisses left your face to explore along your jaw and the line of your throat. His slim arms were surprisingly strong as they held you, and his lips were soft. They tickled against the sensitive skin of your neck as they trailed down. His hands started to roam your body, stroking your hips, groping at your ass and the backs of your thighs. It sent delightful shivers along your skin and down your spine. It made you feel weak, dissolving, aroused. Any fear you felt a minute ago faded into a haze of sudden lust. You couldn't stop yourself from throwing your arms around his neck and moaning. The action made the kisses harder, more fervent. When you felt Copia open his mouth to bite you here and there as if to taste you, you whimpered, and your body melted all the more. You felt your breasts against his chest, and you wanted to press them to him harder. You almost did when Copia pulled away, slipping out of your arms. The loss of sensation was nearly gutting.

You stood there dazed, swaying, and taking in uneven breaths. Copia's own breath came heavy and deep as he straightened his clothes to disengage himself. You could see his arousal through the tightness of his pants, and you bit your lip. If only your punishment could be just this, but you knew it wouldn't be. Copia appeared to be fighting to contain himself, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Once he was composed, he let out a quiet laugh. It was almost musical in its softness. Your body burned as you watched him, aroused but at the same time fearful of punishment. You would do anything to please him, to keep him gentle like this, so you waited.

"Pardon me, cara. You gave in much faster than I anticipated, and I almost lost myself." Copia said, catching you in his gaze again. His lips spread slowly into a grin when he observed you flushed with desire. "And still, you wait for my command. I admit I didn't quite expect you to be as obedient as you are, and I would reward you, but I want to play one of my games with you first."

Before you could protest, he took the velvet bag off the bed, opened it, and plunged his hand inside. He pulled out a spiked leather collar that looked like it was meant for a large dog. A black leash was affixed to it. You felt your breath leave you when Copia undid the collar and eyed you with a deliberate leer. You swallowed, then lifted your head so that Copia could fasten it onto you. He shook his head.

"Not yet." He said, "Take off your clothes."

Your face burned as you obeyed. You took a few steps back and hurried to shed your dress, slip, shoes, and stockings, but you hesitated yet again once you were in your bra and panties. You felt so naked already, so vulnerable. You didn't know if you could bear it to be completely nude. You tried to shield yourself by bringing your hands up and wringing them. It did little to conceal you. Seeing this, Copia approached and kissed your temple.

"You can keep them on. Now, my little puppy..." He buckled the collar to fit snuggly around your neck and left the leash dangling between your breasts. "You have been very, very good so far, apart from your little slip of decorum, but I want to see just how obedient you can be. You know a well-trained dog always follows its master's commands, yes?"

An icy prickle crawled up your spine, sending shivers through your arms and making your heart clench in your chest before hammering hard again.

"Yes, Papa..." You said as expected though uncertainty and fear laced your voice. Copia rubbed your shoulders, his hands firm and soothing at the same time. His touch made you feel almost woozy, dreamy even in your unease.

"I will make it simple: Tonight, you're my pet, sister, and I am your master. As your master, I will give you commands, and you will do them as perfectly as possible to please me. Do what I tell you, and you will be rewarded. Disobey, and you will be punished. Ah, don't be afraid; I don't think you will disappoint me much, but..." Then he pressed closer to you, leaning in close to your ear so that you felt his breath caress your skin, "I confess I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy spanking that plump bottom of yours." His hand slid down and grabbed your ass before giving it a playful swat. You blushed. You felt the arousal rise in your core again. It flooded in, threatened to sweep you away in its erotic current, and you lowered your head, overcome by shyness. Copia lifted your chin and shook his head at you again.

"No. None of that." He admonished, "I want you to keep your gaze up and your manner attentive. And don't hide your body. I have been fair enough to let you keep your underwear on. Now let me see you." He took both your wrists and forced them down to your sides, then prodded your shoulders so that you straightened your back. You stood erect and grew embarrassed now that your posture didn't hide you. Copia nodded in approval, "Yes, much better."

His eyes roamed up and down your body, taking every inch of you in. You wanted so desperately to cover your stomach, your chest, to tear off the collar. Of course, you didn't dare any of it. You couldn't imagine what he would do to you if you were foolish enough to disobey him again; you didn't even want to think about it.

For a moment, Copia seemed to be thinking, then he smiled. His eyes gleamed like gems in the lamplight. He took the leash and wrapped it around his hand a few times to make it short.

"Clasp your hands behind your back and keep them there. And open your legs wider." He said, then nudged your feet apart until they lined up with your shoulders. You kept your hands behind your back as commanded. It was worse than keeping your hands at your sides. This position arched your body a little more and forced your breasts out. You felt dreadfully exposed, and what was even more excruciating was having your legs apart. But what could you do other than what was commanded? Could Copia be so cruel as to punish you even if you threw yourself at his feet and begged for his mercy? You weren't sure, and you didn't want to risk it. He would have his way, and there was nothing you could do about it. Then you wondered, did you even mind? The pleasure that had built now ebbed away slightly, but it wasn't far from reaching you again. If Copia touched you, it would surely wash over you again. Part of you wanted to drench yourself in that pleasure, to swim and melt in it completely. A corner in your mind wished with all your might that Copia would let you; the rational part of you recoiled at your desire, it being so undignified and sudden. You tried to let your head drop a little, and immediately Copia pulled the leash up with a quick tug that snapped it back in position.

"I said to keep your head up," He said, his voice low, menacing. His hand didn't drop or loosen the leash, so your head remained up. "I will not tell you again, sister. Now be still and don't move until I tell you to."

Copia gazed down at you with such ferocity that you stood rigid and kept your lips pressed together tight. The new Papa was frightening looking but very handsome in the dim light that made his face angular, his eyes even more smoldering. You marvelled at him for a moment, then with a shock, you felt Copia's free hand on you. You felt his fingers trail down the side of your neck and down to your breasts. He grabbed at your right breast, cupping it as if to feel its weight, then kneaded it slowly until it sent shivers through you. His thumb brushed over your now hardening nipple through the material of your bra. He did the same with your left. He then imprisoned the nipple and squeezed it rhythmically between his fingers before reaching for the other to give it the same treatment. A rush of shameful pleasure shot through you and settled between your legs, making your sex grow warm as if it could also blush, and you held back a moan with great effort. Copia pulled on the leash, making you lean slightly closer to him.

"Kiss me," He whispered. As soon as he commanded, you moved to catch his lips in a deep kiss almost too quickly, still keeping your hands behind your back. Copia sucked at your mouth, then opened it with his tongue as his hand went between your open legs and, without warning, stroked your sex through your panties. You uttered a sharp cry against Copia's lips before you could stop yourself. Your body immediately acknowledged him with a twitch of your hips and a soft discharge of fluids while you struggled to swallow another moan. You squirmed, resisting the urge to close your legs with everything you had. Copia broke away from your lips to kiss your earlobe, then he nibbled at it as his hand continued to stroke you. His fingers moved in slow circles now, pressed harder until they found the sensitive mound of your clitoris through the moistening cloth. You gave a soft, open-mouthed gasp and your hips jerked forward in supplication. You wanted to grind yourself on his fingers, rock your hips for more, but the sheer gracelessness of it seemed too much for you. Besides, you weren't sure if it was something he would approve of or chastise, so you stayed as still as you could, your legs starting to shake under your weight. Copia pulled back and smiled at your flushing face, then pulled the crotch of your panties to the side and glided two of his gloved fingers along the delicate folds of your labia. The fingers teased at the moist lips and continued to massage your clit in more circles, even slower ones that drew out the sensation. Breathy moans spilled from your lips. The pleasure washed through you, mounting and mounting as he worked you. Beneath your ecstasy, you felt a twinge of embarrassment at how quickly you had become wet for him. It was forgotten in an instant once Copia slid a finger inside you, then a second. You shuddered and cried aloud. Your sex quivered at the sudden penetration, and your cry melted into a long, low moan. Copia kissed the corner of your mouth.

"That's it," Copia said softly, pulling his fingers out, then sliding them back in slowly. Then again and again. "Don't resist me. Be a good girl for your Papa."

Your hips moved forward at the sound of his voice. Once so frightening, but now smooth and rich as velvet. He was so close to you now, and for the first time, you could smell his cologne. It was warm, spicy, and delicious to you, almost intoxicating. Your eyes stared through heavy lids at Copia's lips. They were full yet strong, set into a faint smile that struck at a cord of desire in you that made the penetration even more pleasurable. You wanted to kiss and kiss those lips until you had your fill. You felt your sex start to throb, and you began to gasp, but before it became too much for you, Copia dropped the leash, withdrew his fingers, and pushed you back, that seductive little smile still there. You let out a disappointed moan that would have been humiliating had you done it to anyone else.

"That's enough for now," Copia said, "Get down on your knees."

Your mind whirled as you let yourself float down until you sat on your heels on the floor, your legs still slightly apart. Your thighs trembled under you, and your throbbing craved relief. You kept your hands behind your back. You feared that if you let them fall to your sides, you would lose control and throw yourself at Copia in desperation. The only thing you allowed yourself to do was writhe, clasping your hands as tight as possible. You felt the wetness of your sex between your legs, sticky, slick, and hot.

You let out a sigh, looking up at Copia, your lips parted, your body wanting more. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor.

"All fours." He ordered.

You fell onto your hands and knees. You arched your back, your buttocks lifted as if to be presented. Your body tingled in arousal at doing so, knowing that Copia could see you doing it. You wiggled your hips a little bit, and you were shocked at your own boldness.

'Fuck it, I don't care. I don't care.' You thought.

Copia stepped forward, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat.

"Good girl," He said, and he crouched down to take a closer look at you, "Does my little puppy want more?"

"Yes, Papa." You said softly, "Please."

"Then I think you should clean up the mess you made." Copia held up the hand that touched you. The gloved fingers were still glistening with your juices. He touched them to your lips, and you took them into your mouth without a thought. You sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl around the digits. The taste of leather and your own fluids mixed with your saliva, and when Copia pulled them away, you swallowed. The flavor lingered, both tantalizing and odd to you.

Copia stood and made an airy gesture to your bottom.

"Wag your hips for me." He said, and he laughed when he saw your face go red, "It's no use being shy now, sister. Unless you want me to take my belt off and make good use of it. You don't want that, do you?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You shook your head.

"That's what I thought. Now, put your face to the floor and swing those hips."

Your face flamed as you lowered it until you all but kissed the floor, your ass high up in the air. You churned your hips and hoped it was pleasing. You felt Copia take the leash from the floor and give it a quick tug.

"Faster. Arch your back more."

You lowered as you were told to do and arched your back almost uncomfortably, your cheek sealed to the floor. A groan escaped you at the touch of the cold stone on your chest. Then in utter submission, any sense of pride, if there was indeed any in the first place, left you, and you wagged your buttocks back and forth like an excited dog wagging its tail for its master. Above you, you heard the creak of the bedsprings as Copia sat. You felt another tug on the leash, and you lifted your head. Copia sat back on the bed with his legs spread apart, the bulge of his erection in full view. Your sex seemed to swell at the sight of it.

"You please me very well, sister," Copia said. He tugged on the leash again to bring you forward. "No more playing. Come here, let Papa reward you."

"Papa..." You whispered. You hurried to him on your hands and knees. You kissed the tops of his shoes on an impulse, then his ankles. Copia didn't protest, so you kissed his knees and dared to run your hands along his inner thighs and kiss them as well. His thighs were rather shapely and solid under his clothes, pleasant to touch. When your hand rubbed over his groin, Copia let out a soft moan. Encouraged, you leaned over and kissed the waist of his pants, still rubbing the bulging sex.

"Undo them." Copia's hand stroked your hair.

You didn't hesitate to undo the button and zipper of his pants. And now you were staring at his cock through his boxers, a small wet spot formed on the dark cloth. Again, you leaned down, placing a little kiss there, then you darted your tongue out and licked it. The hard cock twitched in its prison as if it asked to be free. You looked up at Copia with lustful, inquiring eyes, and you were delighted when he nodded at you.

"Yes, cara. You can touch it."

You pulled the elastic fabric down until his cock sprung free from its confinement. It stood tall and thick. A bead of clear fluid seeped from the tip, and you stared at it, surprised by its length and size. You took it in your hand, stroked it, felt its hardness and warmth. You couldn't help but wonder if the others knew Copia was quite well-endowed. You caressed the shaft up and down, tightening your hand every so often at the base of Copia's cock. Copia moaned as you did so, his head lolling back slightly. Your heart fluttered in your chest. It felt good to know that you gave him pleasure, that you pleased him enough to avoid his wrath and to even reward you. What an honor this must have been! A ripple of relaxation washed over you. You closed your eyes and took the tip of the cock into your mouth, suckling on it before taking it deeper in.

Copia gasped above you and bucked his hips. The action drove the shaft even deeper into your mouth, and you sucked on it hard, bobbing your head with a steady rhythm. It nudged the back of your throat, droplets of salty liquid mixed with the taste of his skin. Copia's thighs shivered, and his breath quickened. You moaned as you continued to push up and down on his cock until his hips started to shake.

"Fuck, sister," Copia grunted, "That's enough!"

He grabbed your hair and pulled your head away. He didn't pull you hard enough to hurt, but you still gasped once you felt the fingers grip your hair. When he released you, he motioned for you to stand. You obeyed.

"Take everything off and lay on the bed." He told you, almost breathless.

The collar was the first to go; you unbuckled it and threw it aside, happy to be rid of the awful thing. You unclasped your bra and let it slip from your shoulders. Though the air was cool on your now naked breasts, your nipples grew hot and erect. A sudden, inexplicable desire to entice Copa came to you as you lowered and stepped out of your panties.

'Do it.' Your lust-clouded mind ordered you, and you did.

When you straightened, you locked eyes with Copia as you ran your hands over your breasts, pushing them together and biting your lip. A dark look flickered across Copia's face, and he stood with a low growl. He snatched your upper arm and yanked you to him.

"You dare tease me in my own room after I've given you an order?" He hissed, then gave a wicked smile, "You must like being punished, sister. But we will save that for another time."

He turned to fling you down onto the bed. You fell back onto the mattress; the sheets and coverlet were soft and plush underneath you. You had little time to enjoy it before Copia descended on you with rough kisses, his hips grinding against yours, his cock prodding at your thigh. His hand grabbed and kneaded your breast hard. But you wanted him so badly that you scarcely noticed how tight his fingers dug into your flesh. He then gave it a cruel slap that drew a loud moan from you. It was an exciting mix of pain and pleasure, and you wanted more.

"Again." You pleaded. You arched your back to offer your chest to him, and you wrapped your legs around his hips. Copia rose from his kisses. It was his turn to lock eyes with you as he lifted his hand and struck you again, just a little bit harder than the first time. You whimpered and squirmed underneath him. Copia positioned and moved his hips so that the shaft of his cock rubbed along your slick pubic lips, grazing your sensitive, engorged clitoris. You strained against him, tried to rock your hips to feel more of that rigid member. Copia looked amused by your torment.

"Tell me what you want." He leaned down again and sucked at your nipples, bit at them playfully with his teeth. Your hands went to cradled his head to you, little sighs and moans leaving you unrestrained.

"Fuck me." You murmured into his hair.

As soon as the words left your mouth, Copia rose, brought his cock to your opening, then drove it into you in one fluid motion. You cried out. Your head fell back, and your body seemed to explode in pleasure. His cock was a thick, piercing thing inside you, bathing in your juices as he drew back and plunged into you. His thrusts were brutal, delivered in almost snapping motions that made the bedsprings creak under you. You heard yourself unleash loud, guttural moans with each solid thrust, wholly overcome by denied passion. Copia buried his face in your neck, his breath making the skin hot as he panted. The agonizing pleasure rose in your core, swelling, ready to erupt in a shower of sparks behind your skull, in your loins. Then all at once, your wet sex tightened around Copia and throbbed violently until you were all but screaming in ecstasy. You clutched Copia while the spasms rolled through you, and you let your legs spread wide, allowing Copia to slam into you unhindered until he also gave a small cry and shuddered above you. Hot, gushing fluid flowed into you and lay you back with your chest heaving in gasps.

Copia pulled out and collapsed beside you. You turned on your side to face him; his features were soft-looking, almost angelic in their exhaustion. His eyes drooped closed, his forehead glistened with sweat. You brushed his disheveled hair back, leaned close, and kissed his brow, tasting the saltiness on your lips before pulling away. Copia opened his eyes, gazed at you lovingly, then took you and cradled you to his chest. The fabric of his suit felt luxurious on your naked skin in the afterglow, and you snuggled close to it, sighing. You both stayed that way for a few minutes, with Copia threading his fingers through your hair. You yawned, and your eyes started to feel heavy.

"We can't fall asleep," Copia said, shaking you a bit to rouse you, "I've kept you here long enough, and the other sisters must be out of their minds with worry by now."

"Yes, Papa." You nodded, sat up, and winced a little. Your privates ached from their hard riding. You tried to hide it, only making a slight noise in your throat. It seemed you couldn't fool Copia, however. He also got up and rubbed your lower back, kissing your cheek.

"Was Papa too rough with you, cara?" He asked. You shook your head.

"No, Papa, I'll be fine. It'll pass." You reassured him.

"Alright, but I will have Cirrus check on you later tonight anyway," He patted your hip, "And what happened here must be a secret. You know this, right? Otherwise, I'd have to gag you and march you through the grounds. It's a little, eh, display, you could say, that I've come up with to officially demonstrate my authority to the others. I have yet to put it into practice, and It'd be unfortunate to have you be its first victim."

You bowed your head, not in fear, but again in reassurance.

"Yes, Papa. I won't tell anyone." You said obediently. You crawled out of bed and gathered your clothes. Copia zipped and buttoned up his pants, then stood as well and straightened his hair.

"Good. Now, get dressed and get back to the convent. Tell the Ghouls to run you a bath when you get there. Say it's my orders, and they'll do it."

"Okay." A bath sounded lovely to you as you redressed. If only Copia could join you...

"And sister," Copia's voice came low, playful. You turned, and you saw his eyes gleam at you. Your pulse quickened.

"Yes, Papa?" You asked.

"Don't forget that I said I would save your other punishment for next time." He winked at you, and your heart soared.

"I won't." You smiled.

"Good girl."

You bid him good night, then left his chamber, secretly hoping that that time would be soon.

#the band ghost #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #ghost bc #popia #copia x reader #copia x f reader #lee's writing #its 1:30 am and im screaming bc ive been working on this fic for months lmao

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parkerlyn · 3 years

Note

touching / 37 / oisein 👀

cannot wait for more chaos & softness 🥰

(remember kids, don't fall for peer pressure and terrible friends like Oisein adfsakljl) Thank you for the asks! ❤️

putting their head on the other's chest | holding hands while jumping down from somewhere together

You try to remember how the conversation went, considering where you've ended up. How did you finally agree? Did you actually finally agree? Did you get marionetted? Were you going to have to find a way to quietly murder Oisein?

They had come to you, all teeth in a terrible grin and splotchy, glowing markings flickering with excitement.

"Absolutely not."

"Please please please please-"

"Oisein, I'm not jumping down the Saor waterfall!"

They bring their hands inward like a prayer and give their best attempt at a pout and pitiful eyes. The whole charade looks much less innocent as their long, sharp nails clack together, though. "But the pool is fuller from the recent rains and Heleen won't go without Mav and Mav won't go unless I do and I need moral support. And by moral support I mean you jumping with me."

"The base is right at the edge of the hydro pillars - what if someone from Saor is out there?!"

"We'll wear our glamours!! I was already planning on it, not trying to snap one of these," they say with a nonchalant wave to an antler. "Any mortalis will just think we're a bunch of reckless assholes."

"You ARE being a reckless asshole!"

"Oh it's not even that high, and Heleen and Mav are both elementalists-"

The rest of the conversation blurs out among the dark branches above the Sanctum, and the odd image of Oisein happily skipping away.

Which would explain your current predicament.

The raucous water tumbling over the cliff's edge sprays onto your bare legs and crossed arms, icy pinpricks kissing at your elbow and shins. Thunderous sounds echo back up to the top of the cavern and into the canyon beyond where the stone rings of Saor glint like silver bracelets, delicately detailed with the reflection of thousands of windows.

More whooping and yelling comes from below - far, far below - as what looks to be a pale mortalis woman with coiling ginger hair laughs on the bank. She leans forward, lifting herself from a grassy patch, to throw a scoop of darkened water at a thin person lounging waist deep at the water's edge, the wet sheen of their deep brown skin reflecting moonlight into your eyes. Without their sheevra forms, an unconscious part of you wants to stay out of their sight. But you will yourself to remember the prickly desert flowers of Heleen's markings as she lays back down again, and the winding orchids that normally curl over Mav's shoulders as they blow raspberries in the woman's direction.

Oisein says something next to you, but when you don't respond over the rushing water, they raise their voice.

"If you kill me now, they'll know it was you! So-"

"What?"

Oisein smiles widely next to you as you turn, their disguise more familiar. Their honeyed waves of hair, currently pulled back into a tight bun, provide some comfort alongside the earthy freckles speckling their tanned skin.

Or well, it would, if they weren't the reason you were in this mess in the first place.

Remembering that, you snap your head forward again with a huff.

They laugh - nervously, you notice - and step forward towards the edge of the stone precipice, peering down below. Their bare toes curl into the rock, shoulders rising as they hold a breath. "Okay!" they almost shout over the echoing noise. "It's a little further up than I thought it was. But that's why we're doing this together, right?" The smile turns apologetic while their eyes stay fixated on the drop, but any sympathy you have has already been washed away with the falls, plummeting into the pool below.

You glare at them again, though their edges are blurred and softened by the mist surrounding them, a faint glow diffusing from the stars in the background and the weak light of their markings.

Despite your harshly set face, they turn back to you and pause, before slowly hold out their hand. Curled fingers hesitate for a moment and then unfurl, showing you their empty palm.

You press your lips into as thin of a line as you can possibly muster, determined to glare them off the edge of the waterfall without taking you down with them.

"Can't do this without you," you read from their lips more than hear, their chin lowering but eyes still held your face. The outstretched hand still waits, though you notice a fearful shiver run from their wrist and up towards their collar.

What feels like an eternity passes before you finally give a heavy sigh and uncross your arms, stepping towards Oisein. You slap your hand into theirs, the base of your thumb fitting squarely into their palm, and they wrap their fingers tightly around your hand as you both turn outward to the open air.

The moments begin to blur like the conversation that led you here. A swallow and a flare of their nostrils. Your fingers gripping tensely against their knuckles. One more furtive look to each other and an anxious song kindling in the magic leaking out from the tense leanhaun.

And suddenly, you're flying.

A burst of air pushes you clear of the cliff as you jump, a bright chord that lifts you safely away. The wind whips and streams over your arms as your stomach lurches up into your ribs, your legs cycling through the air. Sound boils and bursts through your throat in tandem with an ecstatic screech from Oisein, muted by the roar of wind and water.

Even as you hurtle nearer to the waterfall's base, the blackened pool quickly approaching, your hands still remain tightly clasped together.

And then, you're floating. Stomach rolling downward against a pillow of swirling wind, water lapping up towards your ankles, twisting upward in lazy tendrils from the surface of the pool. You look down the last dozen feet to see Mav's hands glowing in the water, Heleen's poised expertly in the air above her face. They grin just as you look to Oisein, who laughs, loud and exuberant, water droplets floating near the loose strands of hair that glide gently around their ears.

You catch a sneaky smirk exchanged between the other two sheevra before they release their magic, dropping you the last few feet to plunge into the water.

Chilled bubbles race over your body as you break the surface, taking a quick breath and slamming your eyes shut. The water rushes in around you, weaving over your neck and surrounding you in a bracing cocoon. Muffled murmuring sounds somewhere in the distance (where the waterfall ends?) and you take a chance to open your eyes against the current. Above you the water glitters darkly, scattering the image of the night sky and and reflecting a murky outline of your body back to you.

The heat in your hand finally registers again, the only source of warmth bursting over your fingers as Oisein pulls upward, more bubbles flowing over their windmilling arm and where their feet kick below. It only takes a few seconds more to feel the tug at your shoulder, before you emerge together in a tangle of limbs and gulp in a desperate breath.

While they move backwards and help pull you from the water, Oisein is already berating Mav and Heleen, who snort and giggle together a few feet away. But despite the chiding, there’s a wide grin on their face as they fall back onto their elbows and pull you up towards them, repeating quiet questions of "You okay? You alright?" You nod, cough once, and laugh despite yourself, arms wobbly from the adrenaline and knees digging into the dirt between Oisein’s legs. As more of your senses return, you notice an unwelcome lack of warmth in your palm, but immediately brush that thought away.

The blonde sheevra goes silent eventually, breathing deeply as the wet, ivory cloth of their shirt clings tightly to their chest. They lay their head back against the grass and blink their eyes, splaying their arms out wide.

Without thinking, you collapse where your arms have taken you, thumping your soaked head face first against their chest and elbows framing their hips. There’s a small 'oof' and a laugh that shakes your head when you make contact, before your head bobs with their even breathing.

A chill comes near your body, but the worst of it is held at bay as Oisein’s hands move down to your shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. When you pry your head back up there’s a smile - gentler than usual - alighting their lips. Their hands stay, rubbing warmth into your muscles and eventually resting along your upper arms.

You'd thought their breathing had settled, but you can’t help but notice the quickening pace of their heart and the way they still themself, trying to restrict the rise and fall of their lungs. They swallow, much like they did before you leaped, and you feel their legs tense against yours. Infinite seconds pass while Oisein's lips barely part, neither of you wanting to break the moment.

Which Mav happily does, whistling shrilly at your side.

Oisein scoffs and removes one of their hands to flip them off while carefully putting a little more space between your bodies, shifting awkwardly up the grassy hill. Disappointment drops rudely in your gut while they shiver noticeably again, the sudden absence of your body against theirs bringing back the full effects of the autumn night.

But in the next instant, their head turns to the side, bangs flopping unceremoniously over one of their vibrant eyes before a mischievous look twists their face.

“Wanna go again?”

#drabbles #oisein #interactive fiction #interactive novel #romance #the nameless #tnif #this got wildly out of control lmao sorry #mostly just silly descriptions and self indulgence ajdkflsaj

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liaarchived · 3 years

Note

Hi fellow Taurus bestie…I’m a long time reader and first time anon 🙈 so I got this idea and I had to share incase you wanna write about it 👀 anyways…I was listening to Slow Down by Chase Atlantic and this time the lyric “she said fuck me like I’m famous, I said oh-kay” stuck out to me and I was like wait a min 🤔✋🏼 what if there was a fic where the guy (I thought of Bakugo/Kuroo/Iwaizumi 🙈🙈🙈) was a singer and the reader is his crush/new gf…?? Anyways!! They’re getting ‘into it’ after a show/concert and she’s like… “if you can fuck as good as you sing, show me.” And he’s like bet and he wrecks her, breaks her back and all that

Anyways lemme know whatcha think bestie…🙈 I was kinda nervous to send this but I was like fuck it lemme do it before I forget and yeah…

A/N: Taurus Bestie🥺 You’re brain is immaculate please. Don’t ever hesitate to send me asks! I love interacting with y’all, I’m just not very good at initiating :(( I love this idea so much and I really thought it fit Iwaizumi well so I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: “If you can fuck as good as you can sing, show me.”

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Iwaizumi x fem!reader

Warnings: spit, oral (reader receiving), daddy kink, impact play, degradation, praising, swearing, hair pulling, choking, creampie, breeding if you squint, heavily unedited bc I hate editing my own smut😔✊🏼

Word count: 2.43k

You and Iwaizumi had been friends since high school, but even so, you had never been to one of his band’s shows before. Sure you had heard him sing many times and you knew he was talented, but this experience, getting to watch him from a VIP box while hundreds of thousands of people were cheering for him and singing along to his music? It was absolutely surreal. You admired how Iwaizumi seemed to belong on that stage.

However, the scene of Iwaizumi singing his heart out was doing things to you. Tonight was the last show of his tour, after that he was planning to go on hiatus for a few months before going back to the studio with his band. This was it. You had backstage privileges, courtesy of the singer himself, and you planned on making your move tonight. When Iwa left for his tour at the beginning of the year you were faced with some surprising feelings.

You realized you missed him more than just a friend should…

The set ended and the crowd was still going wild. You make your way backstage as the band plays a final encore song. When Iwaizumi emerges from the stage, sweat gleaming off of his ink littered muscles you practically salvate at the image. The lead singer immediately sets his eyes on you and makes a beeline towards you.

Iwaizumi doesn’t give you a chance to say anything. It had been over a year since he had last seen you in person and his adrenaline was running high. It was now or never. So he scooped you into his arms and crashed his lips to yours. As soon as the shock passes, you reciprocate his extremely passionate kiss.

Iwaizumi hums in approval at your quick submission and bites your lower lip before pulling away, letting a string of saliva form keep the two of you connected before it snaps.

“Shit, Yn. You know how long I’ve wanted to do that. I missed you so much it was maddening.” He lays his sweaty forehead on yours, pupils blown wide with adrenaline and lust.

You giggle at his declaration. “Missed you too, Haji. Where are you staying?”

A deep chuckle escapes his swollen lips. “At a hotel, Princess. Why?”

“Want you to show me if you can fuck me as good as you can sing.” You grin devilishly and Iwa returns the expression.

The musician opens his mouth to say something but is cut off by one of his band members who has already been eyeing you. “Hey, Iwa! Ya coming to the after party or what?”

Iwaizumi slings his arm over you. “Nah, man. Go on ahead without me. I got a different party to attend.”

The band member chuckles and shakes his head before waving and taking his exit.

You two lead by example and take your own exit.

The second the two of you make it to Iwa’s room, he has you pressed against the wall with his lips attached to yours. His tongue has already made it past your lips, exploring the cavern of your mouth, occasionally dancing with yours. You moan into his mouth, and as much as you don’t want to, you have to pull away for air.

Iwaizumi takes this opportunity to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. His hands, which were previously holding onto your hips in a bruising grip, move up your torso under your shirt. He makes a delighted chuckle when he notices that you're not wearing a bra.

“Hmm not wearing anything underneath your shirt to my show? Is that why your tits looked absolutely delectable bouncing around while you danced during the concert, huh?”

You whine as his hands grope at your chest and tweak your nipples. “Hah-fuck- wanted you to have something to look at, Haji-“

Iwaizumi cuts you off with a low growl and a particularly pleasing pinch of the nipples. “No. I’m not Haji right now, Princess. Say it.”

You let out a moan at the singer’s insinuation. “Wanted you t-to have something to look at, Daddy.”

“Mmm well you certainly didn’t disappoint, Princess. Had a hard time keeping my eyes off of you.” Iwa chuckles while he lowers himself down to his knees. “Between how cute your ass looks in this short little skirt of yours and your tits I almost lost my damn mind. Messed up a few lyrics thanks to you, Princess.”

You whimper as the singer nips and sucks on your inner thighs. “Fuck- Daddy… Wanted your attention. Didn’t mean to distract you.”

Iwaizumi’s lips are everywhere but where you need him most. He continues to kiss your thighs and lick them and give the occasional bite and suck combo. Your hands find their way to his sweat damp hair and tug, earning a groan and particularly harsh bite from the man below you. You whimper at the singer’s rough ministrations. Your head is thrown back on the wall behind you as Iwaizumi inches closer to where you want him.

“Daddy, please~” You tug on his hair eliciting another groan.

Iwa looks up at you in amusement. “Hmm what do you want, Princess? Gotta use your words, Pretty Baby.”

You huff in frustration but indulge him anyway. “Need your mouth and tongue, please~”

A chuckle can be heard but you’re no longer looking at Iwaizumi. “I’m giving you my mouth and tongue aren’t I. Princess? Is it that you need them somewhere specifically?” Iwa kisses your lower pelvis, just above your clothed clit.

“I- hah- Fuck, Daddy need your mouth and tongue and fingers in my pussy and on my clit. Please, please, please~ Need you s’ ba- ngh~”

Iwa cuts you off by the sting of him ripping your panties apart and diving his tongue into your drooling cunt. The slurping noises he’s making are obscene but you don’t have time to be embarrassed because at that very moment the singer replaced his tongue with two fingers and reattached his mouth to your clit. You moan and tug harshly on his hair, Iwa lets out his own moan that reverberates throughout your entire being.

“Mmh- Fuck~ feels so good, Daddy. S’ much better than my own fingers- Oh my- fu- fuck right there please keep touching me right there, Daddy…”

You're lost in your own pleasure and you don’t even notice the way Iwaizumi is watching you. His eyes gleaming with pride and lust at the thought of you feeling so good because of him. He can feel himself growing uncomfortably hard but ignores the nagging heat pooling in his lower abdomen. His focus solely on making you cum at least once before he lets himself fuck you senseless.

Judging from your increasingly desperate pleas, you were close to giving Iwa what he wanted. Your fists in the man’s hair are clenched so fiercely that your knuckles have turned a lighter shade than the rest of your skin. Your breathing has increased in both speed and volume, moans and whimpers constantly spilling from your lips, keeping you from forming any coherent sentences.

Iwa chuckles and you nearly screech at the sensation that shoots through your body from his amusement. “You gonna cum, Princess? You sound so damn desperate. Sounds like you’re gonna cum all over my mouth, hm?”

It takes everything you have to respond, knowing if you don’t it may not end well for you. “Hah— F-fuck— mmmm gon’ cum— wan’ cum— Daddy~”

“Do it, Princess. I want to drink up all that you got.” Iwa starts curling his fingers inside of you and that’s what does you in. Your back arches and you nearly scream from the sudden burst of white hot pleasure. Iwa doesn’t slow down his ministrations either. His fingers curling incessantly and tongue lapping up everything you have to offer him. Your mind becomes fuzzy and you don’t even register Hajime picking you up and tossing you onto the king sized bed.

In your dazed state you hardly recognize that Iwaizumi is speaking to you until his hand is cradling your cheek. “Hey. Princess. You with me? I need you to tell me you’re good before I move further, okay?”

“Daddy… ‘m good, want you to fuck me now, please~” You sigh at the thought of Iwa filling you up and begin to grow impatient.

Hajime chuckles. “That’s my pretty baby. Can you strip and get on your hands and knees for me, Princess?”

You nod and quickly remove your remaining clothing. You make a show of turning around and arching your back just to wiggle your ass up at Iwaizumi. A low groan can be heard as a result of you teasing the man behind you. Then suddenly your body is jolted forward as you mewl at the impact of Hajime’s palm connecting roughly with your ass.

“Such a fuckin’ tease, Princess. Havin’ your tits out on display, wearin’ that cute lil’ skirt, and now shakin’ your plump ass at me. Hmm,” Iwa caresses the cheek he had just previously assaulted. “ I would punish you if I didn’t wanna stuff this pretty lil’ cunny of yours with my fat cock. Maybe next time, hm? Bet you would like that wouldn’t you, Princess?”

You take in a shuddering breath before responding desperately. “N-no not doin’ it on purpose, daddy. Promise~ Wanna be your good girl please~”

“I think you’re body is betrayin’ you, Princess, the way you just gushed from a single smack to the ass tells me otherwise. I think you like being a naughty little cockslut, hmm, like being punished. But I guess for now we can pretend you’re my good girl, hm?” With that Iwa rubs the tip of his cock up and down through your folds lamenting his previous words of stating just how wet you were for the musician. “You ready for me, Princess?”

Instead of answering you push back into Iwa’s touch and sink the tip of Iwa’s length into your dripping entrance with ease. Large fingers dig into your plush ass to stop you from going further and lull a whimper to pass through your lips. Iwa leans down and growls into your ear. “Such a fuckin’ impatient and bratty little slut, hm? Couldn’t wait for me to put it in. Had to take it upon yourself?”

As Iwa growls into your ear about how much of a brat you are as he’s sinking himself deeper into your pussy. Your eyes roll back into your head. His sheer size alone brings you close to your second orgasm. You can hear breathy curses fall from Iwa’s lips. His fingers dig deeper into your ass as you dig into the pillow you’re whimpering into.

“F-fuck, Princess, you’re so fucking tight. This pretty little cunny is already squeezing me so tight. You that close, pretty baby? Just from me putting my cock in you, fuck that’s so fuckin’ cute.” Hajime releases one of his grips on your cheeks to tangle his fingers in your hair and experiments with a gentle tug. He’s more than pleased with your reaction as your back arches further and multiple whimpers stumble out of you.

The coil that’s been building in your stomach is snapped by Iwaizumi bottoming out with his tip prodding your cervix. You wail and violently clench around the musician as your vision blurs. You’re babbling nonsense while Iwaizumi throws his head back.

“Oh fuck, Princess. You really came from me just bottoming out. Fuck, your such a desperate little cockslut. Feel so good, sucking me in like this-- shit think you got one more in ya my pretty little cockslut?”

You whimper and plead. “D-daddy, please~ Want you to move-- need you to fuck me so good~ Please~”

Iwa amusedly chuckles at your babbling but grants your wish anyway. His hips draw back slowly, allowing you to feel every single throbbing vein on his dick and once he’s pulled out to just the tip he lands a harsh smack to your ass and snaps his hips into you. His rough pace doesn’t let up after that. He’s ramming into you as you cover your screams with the pillows underneath you. Iwa clearly has other ideas, though, as he tugs on your hair to pull you off the slobber stained pillow.

“Shit-- Wanna hear those pretty screams, Princess. Let everyone know that ‘m making you feel good okay?” After no reply Hajime tugs on your hair again,

“Y-yes daddy! You’re making me feel so f-fuckin’ goo’! Gonna make me cum ‘gain- mmmm fuck~” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Iwa brings you up to his chest and changes the angle.

He’s reaching further into you and if it weren’t for his arms securely holding you-- one wrapped around your waist, the other crossed your chest and his hand gripping your neck-- You probably would be thrashing in pleasure. Iwa leans down to place his mouth right next to your ear and growls.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck pretty baby. ‘M so fuckin’ close. You gonna cum with me, Princess? Gonna cream all over me while I fill you up with my cum? Bet you'd like that hm? Your slutty little cunt filled to the brim with my cum?” Iwa moves his hold around your waist to play with your clit.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder and let out a silent scream. “Shi- oh my- Fuck, daddy, gon’ cum, want you to cum with me. Cum in me, please! Fuck! Daddy ‘m cumming- shit~ “

You’re seeing stars and screaming incoherently as you vaguely register Iwa’s grunts and sloppy thrusts. His hot seed spurting into you as he rides out both your orgasms. Your vision comes back to you and you feel yourself slump into the musician's hold. You hum contentedly as you feel Iwa begin to soften inside of you.

He peppers you with kisses and nuzzles himself into your neck, causing you to giggle. “Fuck, Princess. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hold ya like this.”

“Hmm what a couple of idiots huh?” Iwa looks up at you and chuckles.

“I guess so,” you squeal as Iwa flips the two of you so you’re on your back with him hovering you, expertly keeping himself inside of you, “we’ve got some catching up to do now don’t we, Princess?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “W-what do you mean? We’re not done?”

Iwa chuckles as he slowly begins to pump himself into you. You whine from sensitivity. “Princess, we’re just getting started.”

Hq!! Permanent Taglist: @katsulovee

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eleanore-delphinium · 3 years

Text

Lazarus’ Pit: The Demon Lost His Head

MATURE RATING

MENTION OF VIOLENCE

Loosely related to: The Demon’s Head

When Damian Al Ghul reached the side of his beloved—Raven. She had exhaled her last breath a long time ago. All he could do now was hold her lifeless blue corpse in his hands. He did not understand and could not comprehend—no, it was simply denial—what has happened to his beloved Raven who was in his arms.

He was kneeling down on the ground, a hand resting on the back of her neck. Her head limp and eyes closed and lips so terribly blue, his other arm under her legs. She had died a long time ago, had he come a minute earlier; nothing would have changed.

Time felt awfully too slow for him at that very moment. And yet, he was so very aware of every breathing, moving thing or person around him. And it made the non-existent breathing and moving of his beloved’s chest so sickeningly deafening in his ears.

His lips opened, and his inhalation was slow. “I want them all dead.” He heard himself say, his head spinning. “No—I want their limbs pulled apart, and I want them to suffer.” He heard himself continue on.

“Yes, my lord.” An assassin in black replied.

The heat from the flames around Damian reached his skin.

For a moment, he thought that maybe the heat would warm the cold body in his arms. He pulled her closer, but she was still freezing. He looked up at the sky, imaging a life without the woman he was cradling. And soft splatters of water fall from the sky.

It was like heaven was agreeing: that a life without her, was not a life worth living.

The rain drops pick up, and it felt like pellets against his skin. The cold from the rain quickly settles against his skin, and a small part of him longed for the heat. And he pulled her tightly against him, trying to protect her from the rain.

“You’re already so cold—no more…” He whispered brokenly; his eyes closed tightly as his back arched to shield her from the rain. But her body was so stiff against his, and it just made his heart ache even more.

Behind Damian was chaos. There were orange flames licking everything, his assassins catching those who aren’t a part of the league. Dead bodies littered all around, some people trapped inside the flames. And there was a lot of screaming. And because the rain was strong, the flames were contained but not enough to put the flames out. And Damian screamed and wept. His screams mixed with the harsh sounds of the rain and the chaos behind him. His tears blending with the painful rainfall against his face.

Eventually the flames were quelled by the rain and the screaming of frightened people disappeared. And even the pellets of water weren’t as painful and strong anymore. In front of Damian, the eerily dark, empty and silent forest seemed to mock him.

He too, stopped grieving. He couldn’t even tell if his throat was hoarse from screaming, or if his eyes burned after weeping so much. All Damian knew was emptiness now.

His assassins were hidden, too afraid to even approach him in such a state. They could see very clearly how broken their lord has become. They could see that he had fully entered into the darkness. This was something they have wanted collectively, and yet they feared the day that it would come—of the change necessary—and here it was.

The day they had feared the most.

A death they feared more of happening then their master’s.

Raven was an existence to them that was almost rather vile. It wasn’t that she was a bad person, it was because she was quite the opposite that they recognized the danger. The implication.

The weakness a Demon’s Head should not be having. And yet, it was also the same reason why they would go out of their way to ensure her safety. They could see clearly the kind of man their lord can be when she is taken off the equation. And they feared that kind of man even more.

Sometimes the assassins of the league would think that there really was no right or wrong between a Damian with or without his Raven. But they are Damian Al Ghul’s underlings, so of course, they would just follow. And since they knew he wanted her safe, following that would be easier than deciding who to fear more.

Him without her, or him with her.

Her clothes were no longer white. Her robes were always so pristinely white, thus she always stood out amongst the assassins with their black garbs. Now, it had the tinge of brown, and there was blood, dirt and rips everywhere, and mud on the parts that touch the ground. The assassins felt awful seeing her in that state. It was simply unfamiliar.

And Damian suddenly stood up. The air around him grew lifeless.

What would their leader do?

“Let’s go.” He said in such an empty tone. His voice is slightly different from what his assassins were used to.

His assassins reappeared around him. “Let’s return to Nanda Parbat.”

When Damian arrived at Nanda Parbat, the assassins who were not with their lord previously, upon seeing their lady’s lifeless corpse, understood the situation quickly. And they found that they were holding back their shivers of fear. Soon, the entire place was filled with lifelessness and trepidation.

“Prepare a basin of water, a wash cloth, sponge and every kind of essential oils we have.” Damian ordered as he continued to walk through his palace. The echoes of his footsteps are very eerie.

“Prepare the best silks we have too.” He added quietly.

He brought Raven into a room. “This was supposed to be my surprise for you.” He mumbled looking at the walls and decorations in the room. “I painstakingly prepared everything for you.” He mumbled, setting her down gently on the bed. He kneels by her side, holding her hand and resting it on his forehead. And he wept silently.

Her fingers were so stiff and cold against his skin. And it made his heart ache again.

Soon his subjects placed all that he asked for in the room. They did not say a thing about their own master kneeling on the floor by the side of his dead lover. And they quietly left just like how they entered-- in complete silence.

Minutes passed before he pulled away from her lifeless body. His heart ached as he tried to remove her clothes off of her. He was so careful, he had to be. He was so afraid he’d hurt her more. And when all the dirty clothes were off her, his eyes twitched at the bruises and wounds all over her body.

He couldn’t save her.

Silent tears fell from his eyes as his shaking hands reached out for the sponge and water with some lavender oils. He gently cleaned her with the sponge and dried her skin with the washcloth. And with all the dirt and blood off of her body, he could see even more clearly all the wounds and bruises.

He was late—too late.

But as he cleaned her, he had made up his mind. He has resources.

“You might hate me for this. But I am willing to take the consequences.” He slipped in a white silk dress on her. And he picks her up, his eyes full of resolve.

The next thing Damian knew was the brown walls of the cavern illuminated by torches. And the green liquid of the pool in front of him. He was very familiar with this place. He could hear the sound of the flickering torches around him, and the sound of breathing from his own lips.

The woman in his arms, must have been dead for a few hours now. The pool looked very inviting, despite its disgusting color.

“There have been a few people that the Lazarus Pit revived—and the consequences, my beloved, I am willing to take.” He stroked her cold cheek. “Forgive me.” His apology was simply lip service. He actually didn’t care if he would hate her. He wouldn’t care if she would not be the same.

A life without her—was really—a life he was not willing to live.

As long as her heart was beating, and there was breath in her lungs, then everything was worth it.

He kissed her forehead gently and then looked at the Lazarus Pit. His eyes were cold and determined. He took a step near the pit and continued on. His hold on her was gentle, her head resting on his shoulder. Soon the water was around his waist and he lowered her. He waited for a moment, his heart aching at having to fully submerge his beloved into the green liquid, but he cannot hesitate now.

Damian kneeled and so Raven was submerged under the water, his head above the water.

He waited and waited. And it felt so long that it hurt.

She had already died because he was too late and here he was drowning her dead body. It felt like he was killing her ten times over. But he closed his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly.

And finally, he felt her twitch against him and arms wrapped around him. He quickly pulled her up by standing up. There was a lot of screaming from her, her entire eyes black.

“Raven! Raven!” He called out but she kept screaming. “It’s me!” And he felt a sting on his left shoulder. She had bit him hard, he was bleeding.

“It’s me.” He coaxed her as he patted her head. “It’s me.” He hugged her and she whimpered, teeth still on his shoulder.

“My Lord!” It was the familiar voice of a woman he had become friends with when he was twelve. The worry in her voice was so unlike her. He turned around, and for the first time, her face was not frozen in the expression that he was used to—indifference. Her facial expression matched the tone of her voice.

It was so clear on her face and in her tone, the fear and the pain she felt.

And when her eyes landed on Raven whose teeth were still on his shoulder, her body winced. She gulped down her messy thoughts. And suddenly fell to her knees.

“I should have been there!” She said her head casted down.

“Raven is perfectly fine.” Damian replied, and the woman before him, who was his shadow, his right hand—among other things, just clenched her fist silently.

“I should have been summoned back. I should have gone back.” She made her mind up. She shouldn’t have waited for a summon.

“Everything is alright. Raven is fine.” He caressed his lover's black hair. “You had a mission to complete. And my Raven-- my beloved Raven is completely safe.” Damian insisted as he continued to caress the hair of the woman in his arms who had growled at him like an animal.

“We will be alright.” Damian finally said as he walked out from the waters of the pit. The lady outside the pool silently kneeled with clenched eyes and fists.

Raven was never the same, but Damian welcomed the change with open arms. After all, she was still breathing and alive.

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 6- Betrayer Moon

Summary: Temeria holds a beast that has been said to have slaughtered many. With the sweet sound of coins offered you’re ready for another wild hunt.

Warnings: lil smut we starting out with, gore and blood as per usual, fluff

Masterlist

Outside the winds are cold and snowy as the night cascades its great darkness over the land of the Continent. But none of that holds any kind of significance as you lay in the warm bed of a village tavern, Geralt's muscular body pressing flush against your heated skin. You hold tightly onto the tousled bed sheets as he thrusts into you over and over again, nothing but the sweet sounds of his grunts and your pleasant moaning filling the darkly lit room but for a simple fire in the hearth.

He deliciously rocks you into the mattress as he gently kisses your sweaty temple, sending bolts of electricity coursing throughout your entire being as you await your building climax. With each new thrust of Geralt's manhood into your entrance, you try and hold back a scream but to no avail. He quickly silences you with a heated kiss, both of your tongues dancing in the dark with one another as he pushes your legs apart even more, his large body taking you all in.

He's a lot to handle but you can take it, no matter what he throws at you. Soon he's a moaning mess as he dumps his load into your clenching walls, hitting your own high just the same, you suddenly claw at his back as he pumps himself into you a couple more times before slowly leaning up to take a good look at your blissfully beautiful face. He gently pulls out of you, falling onto the bed at your side as the both of lay in silence, the only viable sounds coming from your heavy breaths and the crackling of the fireplace.

"So, I heard something interesting today." You begin, turning on your side to lean yourself into his chest as he stares at the ceiling, a satisfied smirk gracing his handsome features.

"Do tell." He quietly mumbles.

"I was conversing with some of the whores by the market today, asking about what interesting creatures have met their eyes and whatnot. When wouldn't you know it, another Witcher had come through this very village." He raises an eyebrow, curiosity catching his interest quick, "Said he fled Temeria with some miners coin when his ass was supposed to be killing their monster. I think foul play." You inquire, absentmindedly running your fingers over his battle scars, Geralt's intrigued by your words but is honestly enjoying himself too much to care about anything else at the moment.

Sighing in deep content he shifts his golden gaze onto you, "Tonight I will blissfully ignore my problems." He muses, closing his eyes as you continue to lightly trail your fingers against his skin, "Just uh...keeping doing that." A drunken smile gracing his sweaty face, as you break out into a grin while your eyes fully take in his glistening muscular form that's laying butt-ass naked right next to you. Oh, how did you get so lucky with a man like him?

The rest of the night is spent inside one another here and there, until you both fall asleep in an exhausted heap of tangled limbs and messy blankets. The next morning you two get dressed and head for Temeria, Geralt wisely leaving Roach with the stable boy until you both come back to retrieve her, whenever that may be.

The hike to Temeria went rather smoothly, no one to bother you and the cold of the winter weather doing nothing to freeze you, considering you're practically immune to feeling cold, another wondrous perk of being half vampire.

As you walk out of the shadowy woodland you look up to see a large abandoned castle stout upon the top of a rocky hill, thick forest surrounding it. Looking ahead you notice as the trail suddenly dives into the earth, lamps held up by steel poles guiding the way in, but before this you stop to read over a poster pinned to a wooden pole.

"Temeria, realm of monsters and cowardly kings." You turn to Geralt with an amused smirk upon your face, "Well it's nice to know they don't hold anything back." You laugh before turning to walk down the descending trail, Geralt smiling as he watches you go.

Your time in the mines was a quick one, the miners and the kings men on the verge of a tiny battle that was stopped by Geralt's calm inquisition. The high guard or whoever the fuck, lead you and your Witcher out of the mines and into the shadowy snow covered woods, you're guessing with interior motives but nonetheless you follow.

As you're walking next to Geralt, with the kingsmen on their steeds to either side of you; all of a sudden you catch the scent of another being lurking in the shadows. Another heartbeat thudding in the night, then not even ten seconds later do the guards fall from their horses, enchanted by some sleeping spell. Geralt quickly pulls out his silver sword as you bare your opened hands, emitting crackling purple lighting from your fingertips, this is sorcery at play and you know just how to fight it if need be.

"You can put down your sword...and calm your lightning. I'm not here to hurt you." Speaks a woman's calm voice, her shadowed silhouette walking into view.

"Says the witch hiding in the woods." Mutters Geralt defensively, sword still held out in front of him as you slowly lower your hands, dissipating away the lightning. You can tell this mage has come with no ill intent, even if you don't adherently feel very fond of such beings, you're wise enough to understand that not all are terrible.

"Sorceress." Corrects the curly haired woman.

"Witch." He growls darkly, you lightly touch him on the shoulder, silently asking him to calm is unneeded anger, he slowly brings his sword to his side.

"Triss Merigold. I serve King Foltest." She serenely replies. A simple mage.

"So he makes a show of kicking us out...then sends his errand girl to slip me some coin so we kill his monster." Proclaims Geralt smartly, believing he's just figured her out.

"Not a very original plan for a king." You add, your brows furrowing in thought.

"It's my plan. My coin. And I don't want you to kill the beast. I want you to help me save it." Assures Triss.

"Save it?" You ask.

Wanting to hear more she takes you both into her area within the castle where she goes into more detail about the happenings in the woods. Geralt leans against a counter as you sit on a wooden table, the both of you facing Triss who stands by a desk and chair directly in front of you.

"Six years ago, stable hands statred vanishing at the castle above the city. Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria. Foltest's royal guards soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister Adda is buried. Rumor has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died."

oh the drama, you wanted to laugh when she said that but wisely chose against that.

"Was she pregnant?" You finally ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. Maybe that's why this beast is killing people?

"If she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne as Foltest never married." Explains Triss as her expression changes to a thoughtful one, "The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the Brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature."

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations." Says Geralt, mind reeling with what this creature truly is.

"They can't be cured." You add as Triss' brows furrow, "A vukodlak is a type of mutated werewolf, its a beast that conceptualizes in the womb of a dead woman, this woman however must be pregnant. It's rare, but it happens."

"How strange, maybe if I take you to the creatures latest victim then you might have some understanding as to what it actually is."

"Worth a try."

Triss leads you and Geralt through the pre-burial section under the castle where all the dead lay awaiting their final home in the ground. The place reeks of death, spices to mask the dead smell, and too many salts and herbs doing their part to delay the decomposition process.

"Two thousand orens if either of you can tell me what exactly killed these people." Says Triss as all three of you scan over the cloaked bodies laying on wooden tables.

"You didn't want the people to know that it bested a Witcher. And you let them believe that he fled with their coin." Mutters Geralt.

"You two clearly weren't acquainted." At the end of the long cavernous room does she stop at a stone tub of white salt and sand, you can smell the dead man underneath. You walk past both of them before standing in front of the tub.

Taking a breath, you reach down to wipe away the white sand until the caved in chest of the fallen Witcher is revealed. You stick your hand inside the opened chest cavity to gather a mental image of what could be missing. You look over at a curious Geralt, "His hearts missing along with his liver."

"Only one creature I know is that picky an eater. A striga." Explains Geralt while you remove your wandering hand from within the broken rib cage to wipe it off on your pants. You then turn back around to face Triss and Geralt, noting how the mages face begins morphing into that of befuddlement.

"Strigas are old wives' tales." She replies, not completely sure of herself.

You shrug, "They're very rare as are the vukodlak, but they can happen. However the only way to make one is through a curse." You add, crimson eyes trailing over the mutilated body of the dark haired Witcher. So this is really what became of that other Witcher, better him then Geralt, nonetheless he fought bravely.

"Someone wanted Adda dead." Realizes Triss as Geralt hums in agreement.

"But the curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster." Triss' head tilts in surprised puzzlement at your troubling knowledge.

"Her daughter?"

"Strigas are female. This striga's a princess." Concludes Geralt with a sigh, his gaze searching for your own perplexed expression as you turn around to face him and Triss who still looks rather disturbed.

"Well then, lets see if this king of yours is willing to let us help." You quip at Triss as you begin leading the way out of the large burial room. "Can't be that difficult now can it?"

——

"Miss Merigold, you were dispatched to settle a family affair, not to enlist a mutant mercenary and a rouge hybrid for a game of sleuthing." Argues one of the kings guardsmen as King Foltest hungrily rips apart a turkey leg, rather disgustingly if you're being honest. He even smells of meat and sweat.

"This is no game, Captain. Tonight is a full moon, Geralt and Y/N have already proved themselves to be invaluable. We believe we can cure the creature." Implores Triss urgently as she vouches for you, Geralt, and her pertinent point at hand. You just lean yourself against the rooms wallpaper as Geralt stands next to you, feeling a bit doubtful that she'll be able to convince any of them.

"You say she's a girl. Then you will refer to her as Her Royal Highness." Directs the kings guard before his other man, who instructed for you and Geralt to leave Temeria only yesterday, walks over to give his two cents.

"Segelin." He says introducing himself before continuing, "I believe urgency warrants flexibility in a court decorum. The Witcher's theory is nonsense. Princess Adda was the people's angel. Who'd wish to murder her?" Implores the man Segelin as his eyes wander over to you and then to Geralt, eyeing you both suspiciously.

"What about her lover?" You inquire, folding your arms over your leather armored chest.

"Seditious rumors. Idle courtesans trading out boredom for jealousy." Quickly replies the kings guardsman giving you a distasteful look.

"Perhaps if you'd call off your guards, if we were able to search the abandoned castle, we could find clues as to who cursed her." Explains Triss, attempting to convince the king. That's not a bad idea.

"Except, these two monster hunters would kill the princess as she sleeps, and collect the miners' coin." Argues Segelin as you simply roll your crimson eyes at the grey bearded man. What's got water up his breeches?

"Call her a princess. Call her a unicorn if you'd like to." Begins Geralt, "She grew inside Adda, feeding on her petrified womb."

"Have you no respect?!" Shouts the guardsmen defensively, the king just continues his gruesome assault on his turkey leg as he listens.

"Mutating. Growing for years till she got so hungry..." Geralt steps closer, the guardsmen laying a quick hand upon the hilt of his sheathed sword as Geralt continues unfazed, "she was forced to slither out. Rotten muscle, bent bones, two spidery legs, claws dragging in the dirt." You watch in satisfaction as the kings eyes flash with disgust. You've got him.

"An overgrown abortion." You add shrewdly, pushing yourself off of the wall as you walk next to the long table, the kings face cast down in deep thought as the other men throw you nasty glares.

"Enough." He snaps, setting down his half eaten leg of turkey.

"Your Highness?" Begins the loyal concerned guardsmen.

"Leave." Growls the king menacingly, his men nodding before making their way for the door, Triss, Geralt, and you following.

Opening up the door first, Geralt politely opens it, offering his hand for the others to follow out, you giving him a wink as you tail the guardsmen who's last to leave. As soon as you reach the doors entrance you quickly shove the guardsmen into the hallway before Geralt quickly shuts the doors on all of them, making sure to lock it as they shout their angry protests.

You listen to the pounding on the wood as you calmly walk past Geralt to the right side of the long table, leaning your hand onto the clothed wood as he casually rests an arm over a great oaken chair, opposite of the king.

"Who's the princess' father?" Immediately asks Geralt with a curious tilt of his head, the king glaring bitterly.

"My men will kill you two, bastards." He warns darkly, Geralt pulls his arm away from the chair to slowly approach him, you standing your ground while he walks past you.

Eyeing up the plump king, you slowly drag your fingers over the wood while taking small steps closer, "Your threats don't shake me, but it's funny...you learn your sister was murdered, and you didn't even flinch." Your sly remark has the king's eyes staring daggers at his roast turkey, while Geralt hums in agreement, walking himself towards a window before turning around to lean himself on a wooden cabinet as he faces the king.

"But the moment I mention the girl's father.." King Foltest purses his lips together, his eyes downcast onto the floor, "Why were you never married?" Questions Geralt smoothly, the king lets out a sigh as he leans back into his chair.

"You are speaking to a king." He proclaims with no heat is in his words, other then something else that he seems to be hiding from you both.

"That's exactly my point. Why not produce your own heir? Why not kill the striga and avoid this revolt? Why drag this all out?" Suggests Geralt, his brows furrowing together at the strange reason for everything that's happened. You walk over closer to the king, his beady eyes following you the whole time, you've already figured out the possible truth. And why must it be so disgusting too?

Raising an eyebrow, you reveal a small smirk to the glaring king, "Between the three of us, and I would dare not tell...who is the striga's father?" King Foltest appears to want to say something, almost willing to answer your question. But instead he looks to the window as he slowly rises from his seat, bringing his gaze back over to Geralt.

"I remember hearing stories about Witcher's when I was a child." He says, voice low and gravely while eying up Geralt, turning his sullen gaze upon you now, "And that of dhampirs. Is it true what they say? That you're neither living nor dead, unkillable but for silver?" Sneers the sweaty king, anger emitting from his every word, "That the mutations that grant Witcher's their...abilities. Also erase your emotions? Must be." He criticizes sharply eyeing the two of you with hate, "Cause only a person devoid of all heart could accuse a brother of bedding his murdered sister while urging him to kill her." Suddenly the doors burst open, a small handful of yelling guards racing in with their weapons bared, you don't even flinch as a second later the king throws a hand into the air, silently commanding them to halt.

He turns to you then back to Geralt, "Leave Temeria. Never return." His command is noted as Geralt gives him a nod before turning to walk out the door. You follow suit and smile at a nervous guard who looks like he might have just shit himself. The both of you silently walk out of the castle, deciding to make a new plan of attack.

——

Crouching on the roof of the abandoned castle as the wind and snow blows past your face, you slowly crawl closer to the front gates. Where two incredibly anxious guards converse about how much longer their post is until they may leave. Quietly you pull out a loose piece of the castles roofing, before chucking it into the direction of a crow where the bird and the ceiling make a loud rackety noise as they take off elsewhere. To your utter satisfaction the two nervous guards yell and book it down the cobblestone pathway and away from the castle.

Well that was easy enough.

Pleased with your harmless mischievousness, you decide to find your own way into the castle while Geralt takes the front entrance. You find a broken rotting part in the roofs wooden beamed structure where you then purposefully slip through, falling down to the floor, catching yourself at the very last moment as you levitate your body the rest of the way for a silent and painless landing.

The castle smells of mystery and dead rats as you walk quietly throughout the gloomy thing, suddenly your ears pricking to the sounds of Geralt and Triss rummaging around in someone's room down the hall. With a smirk upon your lips you stalk closer, listening to them speak about letters from Adda's mother as they both begin walking for the door.

As soon as you catch sight of Triss' oblivious face do you finally make yourself known, turning your skin the color of bluish pale grey, the whites of your eyes turning to black as your scarlet irises practically glow red. You hiss, baring your pearly white fangs, her face contorts into pure dreadful fear as she lets out a surprised scream. Geralt suddenly rushing to her side, his magic at the ready before his concerned face slackens to throw you an amused glare.

Cackling you turn back into your more presentable self, "You two find anything?" You wheeze as Triss gathers her bearings.

Breathing heavily she practically stares daggers at you, "Oh yes, just a fucking heart attack!" She breathlessly retorts, throwing you a harsh glare as Geralt walks past her. The corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk as he catches your entertained gaze, you smiling back at him like a fool in love.

"You're an ass." She mutters, shaking her head at you while she follows Geralt down the dreary shadowed hallway. An enthralled grin upon your beaming features as you tail behind them.

——

Once back inside Triss' lair of sorts within the castle walls, unbeknownst to King Foltest, the three of you let Segelin in on what they found in the ruined castle. He stands, eyes cast onto the letters, "A Queen Mother cursing her own children for their affair." He plops the old papers onto a table, "This could destroy the throne." He says dismally while leaning, both hands pressed to the wooden table.

"Sancia wanted Adda to get rid of the child." Says Geralt, concluding all that appears to be written down in those letters between Adda and her Queen Mother.

"It seems she refused. Repeatedly." Adds Triss while you all stare at the back of the man.

Segelin sighs, "And now she's taken that curse with her to the grave."

Triss clasps her hands together, "You've served the family for decades. Was Sancia involved in dark sorcery of any kind?"

He turns to look at her, "No. Of course not." His expression reveals no faults, yet you feel something is not right here. He's not nearly surprised enough about all of this.

Touching a dangling green plant that hangs out over a wooden cupboard, you raise a brow at him, "What was your relationship to Adda?"

He rests his hands casually against the long desk behind him, "Well, I like to think that she saw me as a confidant." He smiles, "And a protector, even. We used to talk at great length about her troubles. She could be very naïve."

"She ever mention her brother?" Asks Geralt from his place by the wall, a foot or so away from you and Triss' plants.

Segelin looks down at the letters, "Certainly not like this."

"She was ashamed." Says Triss as Segelin turns to face her.

"Or she was frightened. What if the relationship was not.." He pauses a moment like he can't even bring himself to say it, his eyes trail over the three of you, "..consensual?"

Geralt hums in thought at this indeed interesting bout of information, he looks to Segelin, "You think he raped Adda, then cursed the child to cover it up?"

"Well, kings have done more for less."

Geralt's eyes fall elsewhere, "True." He mutters as you mull over everything previously said. This doesn't sit right with you at all.

You take a step away from the plants, "There's only one wrinkle, though." Both Triss and Geralt watch as you stand almost threateningly in front of Segelin, they have not a clue what you're doing. The greying man eyes you nervously, you narrow your eyes at him, "Your scent was on her sheets."

Triss takes a step foreward, "Y/N?"

Your crimson eyes never leave him once, "Old ones...and new ones."

He leans away from you, "What would I be doing in a dead girl's bed?" He accuses, face shifted into a repulsed grimace. You lean in closer so that your mouth remains mere inches from his ear, he's visibly uncomfortable.

"I smelt what you were doing."

You move backwards to stand in from of the conflicted man, he says not a single word as you patiently wait for him to break. The moment lasts a couple seconds more, you can hear how loud his heart is pounding within his chest. His lip quivers, breathing increasing with anxiousness, "Foltest had no right!" Shouts the angered man while you scowl and step away, "He seduced Adda! Abused his position. He was always nagging her for attention. Always nagging! But he didn't love her....I did."

"You cursed the woman you loved?" Denounces Triss like a disappointed mother.

Segelin shakes his head, "I cursed Foltest, not her."

"Countless are dead because of your jealousy."

"Countless are dead because of Foltest!" Protests Segelin, "He spoiled Adda with his seed. He refuses to kill this striga. He lies to his people. And yet you wag your finger in my face."

"If you wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair." Counters Triss while the three of you stare down the heated man.

"And hurt Adda?" He says softly, "Never. Her memory will not be sullied, not while I'm alive to protect it." Geralt glances from you to him.

"Tell us how to lift the curse."

Segelin pauses a moment before looking defiantly up at your Witcher, "No. Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him. Just as he turned Adda against me." Geralt hums in response.

Fed up with his excuses you walk up to him, he slightly cowers back before keeping straight again, a snobby expression upon his greying features before you crack him across the temple. Sending him falling to the ground in an instant as he plunges into unconsciousness.

"Y/N." You turn to face Triss.

"What? You were all thinking it."

——

Waiting atop the crumbling castle roof where this striga is soon to be, you watch from above as Geralt and King Foltest speak about how you and him will handle the princess. He gives the king Renfri's brooch as a gift for the princess incase Geralt does not live to see the light of day. You watch the king and his men finally leave, letting Geralt enter the dying castle as he looks up towards the roof for a second before turning his gaze for the wooden doors.

Taking the same route as earlier in the day, you soon find yourself in Adda's room. Segelin tied pathetically to the wooden beams of the dead princess' bed as your unwilling captive. Geralt brooding by the window as he thinks of what to do next, none of you truly having a solid clue as to what should be done about this royal striga. You watch when the greying man glares at you, blood smeared across his lips from your abrupt assault not even an hour ago.

"The both of you! This is madness!" He cries angrily, tugging at his cloth restraints, "What are we doing here? What's happening?" He wonders while searching desperately around the room for a nonexistent answer.

"How can we lift the curse." Mutters Geralt, his leather armored back to you and Segelin.

Segelin shakes his head, "No! This is not right. Foltest must pay for what he did." Whines Segelin once more, you simply fold your arms in irritation as the man looks to you for a sign that you care, which you most defiantly don't.

Rolling your eyes, you scowl at him, "You're already too blind to even comprehend your own faults. This is what you get for your childish actions." You mutter bitterly as he glares hopelessly at you, frustration clearly evident on his dirty face.

"Carry me out. I order you." Demands Segelin as Geralt turns around to face the desperate man. "Tell us how to lift the curse." He orders, Segelin huffs in frustration, avoiding Geralt's intimidating gaze.

In a blur of black and grey your hand is suddenly around his neck as his eyes go wide in stunned alarm, your squeeze isn't enough to choke him, but you're hopeful it's enough to change his mind. "I'd advise you to listen well, your life is already standing on the edge of a knife." You hiss maliciously in his ear before releasing him, he lets out a dramatic gasp as his wide eyes follow your every movement.

He turns his attention from you to Geralt as his mouth opens to finally answer, "Sh-She was hiding from the Brotherhood. She sold me a lamb....Sh-She told me to wait until a full moon, to wait and then to kill it." He stammers, Geralt crouching down to meet his eye level, "And then I recited some silly chant. And then I bathed in the lamb's blood until sunrise. Until the rooster crowed three times. And that is all. I swear. I swear. Now please let us leave." Begs Segelin desperately as he fruitlessly pulls against his constraints, your face falling into a frown, understanding immediately what this idiot has done.

"What was the chant?" Wonders Geralt, his brows furrowing in thought while he stares daggers at Segelin who looks down in frustration.

"Uh..It was years ago." Protests Segelin as he tries to think up the chant, "It was Elven. Um..." Suddenly he begins reciting an Elven curse, your eyes going wide in realization as Geralt shares a quick wary glance with you before racing over to his bag of potions, earning a confused expression from the bound man.

"Wh-what is it? The..I...I've done what's been asked. What more can I do?" He wonders in blissful ignorance as you let out a pissed off huff of air.

"You've done more than enough you perverted fool, unless you can keep a fucking striga out of her crypt until a fucking rooster crows three times." You snap while unsheathing your dagger, his face falling in frightened understanding as Geralt fumbles around with his potions, trying to find the right one to take before the action starts.

Segelin's eyes go downcast, his whole aurora turning to pure dread, "You're gonna have to fight it till dawn." He murmurs softly, staring at the far wall as Geralt downs a potion, his eyeballs turning into two pools of inky darkness. You turn, hastily walking for the door as Geralt quickly follows behind you.

"No. No. Come back here! Please. Please! You'd leave a man bound to die in such indignity?" He cries desperately, pulling on his restraints but to no avail.

"You're not a man." Growls Geralt as he takes his place by your side, the two of you walking down the dreary hallway as the snow falls lightly from outside the nearby broken windows, you catching the scent of the beast on the cool night air.

"Remember not to kill the princess, Y/N" Implores your Witcher with a smirk, you simply roll your eyes.

"We'll see if you can last till dawn my love, I don't doubt it." You retort, a suggestive tone hidden in your voice that's most definitely caught by Geralt.

The hallway breaks off into another section of the abandoned castle, you giving him a nod before turning in that direction, deciding it best to take on the royal beast from two sides if he gets caught up in some trouble. You silently walk down the dusty corridor past rotting wood and broken glass, cracked pieces of stone and the occasional human bones.

The enthralling shriek of the striga bellows throughout the castle walls, it's high pitched scratchy scream sounding like a knife that's stabbed you in the ears. Without another thought you race down the entrance-way towards the sounds of a great messy struggle, the princess has found Geralt, and she doesn't seem too pleased.

Turning round another stony corner, you halt dead in your tracks as your scarlet eyes zero in on the striga who's completely manhandling your Witcher, throwing him this way and that, deflecting every punch he's throwing at her. He suddenly rips a lamp from the wall and uses it to crack her across the side of her grotesque wrinkly head. She stumbles back at the violent impact, pain running throughout her body before she quickly recovers, hurling him backwards with a fiercely strong blow.

As Geralt falls onto his back you swiftly race down the hallway as the striga climbs on top of his armored body. She doesn't hear you coming, or when you electrocute her without warning, sending her flying into the nearby wall as she screeches in pain. You stop to help Geralt up, your right hand crackling with energy as he stands and glances down at the light emitting from it, then over to the pissed off princess. Who almost immediately recovers from her abrupt assault, she stands, her umbilical cord dragging as she stalks over towards the two of you.

In an instant she charges, a piercing scream sending your ears into agony at the frantic noise as Geralt lunges for her, grabbing her shoulders as he throws her against the brick wall.

For the next couple hours would you and Geralt take turns beating on the striga, down this hallway and that, into doors and wooden walls, crashing into cabinets and breaking more cracked windows through the struggle. Every fucking time she would recover and throw it back at you ten fold, like nothing had even happened in the first place.

Racing across the hall to Geralt's aid, you electrocute the royal beast just before she's about to bite into his exposed jugular, she falls back as you get closer, preparing to hopefully knock her ugly face unconscious for a while. You're slowly getting more and more fatigued with every couple minutes that fly by, this fucking striga giving you a real run for your money. No matter how much stamina you have.

But as you get within a few feet from her, she whips around, slashing you across the face with her razor sharp claws. Sending you flying into the wall as a hot stream of blood pours out of your freshly opened wounds. Dazed, you try and raise yourself from the ground and watch as Geralt gets pinned down by the striga once again. You blink back your blurry vision, painfully raising your hand as lightning brightly emits from your opened palm and fingertips just as Geralt uses his magic to break the stone flooring from right out under him.

Himself and the striga immediately falling through the broken floor and straight to the crypts below. Rising to your feet, you can feel as your facial wounds begin to fuse the skin back together again, your injury a thing of the past except for the strips of blood that mark it's path.

You hastily limp over to the hole in the ground, looking down to find Geralt laying in the rubble before slowly getting up. Without another thought, you jump down, landing hard on a pile of rocks as the unconscious striga lays motionless next to you. Pulling yourself up from the wreckage, you tiredly shuffle over to the center of the room as Geralt puts an enchantment onto the doorways so that the creature cannot escape.

"I don't know about you but I could think of ten different ways we could have spent tonight." You jest, breathing heavily as you hold onto your aching side, Geralt hums in reply before turning around and freezing, his face morphing into wariness as he gives you a concerned look. You turn around to see what's bothering him, only to find absolutely nothing, which is most definitely the problem.

"Oh fuck." You whisper as Geralt cautiously walks over to you, the both of you looking around the room as you stand back to back.

You hear a dull rapid thudding of a heartbeat before suddenly the striga jumps down from the crumbling ceiling to pounce at Geralt, she lands, whipping her hand across your chest as she picks him up, throwing him into the nearby stone pillar. You stumble back at the abrupt impact, watching as Geralt gets his ass beat by the pissed off striga, it throws him into another pillar, quickly turning around to race for the open doorway. But before it can get through, the white force field knocks her back, she snaps around once more shrieking in rage, bolting on all fours towards Geralt.

You pull your bruised and tired body onto your feet, reaching your hands out to send volts of hot white lightning into the vessel of the striga, sending her into a cruel stone pillar as she screeches in misery. When you look to your left a beautiful streak of orange sunrise emits from an opened spot in the roof, you breath heavily as the striga and Geralt take notice of the sunlight. Your eyes go wide as the creature races for the safety of her dirty crypt, you trailing behind her as Geralt jumps to his feet to follow.

Your boots pound against the gravely stone of the abandoned crypts as you valiantly throw yourself onto the furious princess while she attempts to launch herself into her resting place, she falls into the wall as your hands smack onto the cracked floor.

"Get in the fucking crypt!" You scream at Geralt as he makes a mad dash for the opened tomb, heeding to your rushed words without a second thought.

You watch as he falls into the stony coffin and shutting it just as the striga launches herself onto the thing, her cries and horrid wails sounding noisily throughout the large drafty room. Picking up a fist sized rock you chuck it at her, cracking her perfectly across the back of her grotesque head.

"Your royal pain-in-the-ass, come and get me." You taunt, lightning crackling from your fingertips as the angry princess snaps her attention to you.

She jumps down and immediately pummels you into the rocks as you send harrowing sparks of electricity into her body that thankfully throws her backwards, your vision going blurry once again. Gods your head hurts. Dark spots cloud your sight as you rest on the rocks in exhaustion, your side most definitely hurting as your eyes flutter closed.

You awaken to the sounds of Geralt as he opens up the tomb and steps out to walk over towards the princess, a concerned and astonished expression crossing over his dirty features. Pushing some ruble from your legs you finally stand and slowly walk down the small stairway as Geralt leans down to see if the princess is actually okay, considering her naked mud covered self is facing away from you both.

You can hear as her heartbeat picks up in pace, but before you're able to warn him, the princess turns around and in a confused rage pins him to the ground just as she sinks her teeth into the side of his neck. She falls back in fear as Geralt's pained gaze finds your own bloody face while you race to his side. Your eyes going wide as he lays upon the stony ground, blood seeping out from his mouth and ripped neck as you try and put pressure on it.

Tears slowly begin building up in your shimmering irises, "No. No. No...Geralt, look at me...look at me." You desperately plea as his golden eyes try and stay open for you, but he's slipping as more blood spurts out from his wounds, "Don't you fucking leave me you prick, not now of all times, or places. Geralt!" You cry as his eyelids flutter shut, his breathing slowing down as you try and cover his bleeding neck the best you can, not sure what to do. If you leave and try to get help he'll bleed to death, but if you stay then his chances are less grim but still uncertain.

Your mind swirls with what's the best course of action when suddenly you hear the rushed steps of Triss coming to your aid, and just in the nick of time.

——

Leaning yourself into the welcoming comfort of Triss' plush lounge chair, you watch as she mixes some more healing ingredients into a marble bowl at her work counter. You touch the side of your torso where a white linen wrap tightly hugs around your aching side where you fell on Geralt's silver sword. It throbs under your soft touch, but due to your immaculate healing capabilities your wounds will not bother you in a couple days time.

Turning your head lazily to the right to find a sleeping Geralt laying on the bed, recovering from his own injuries, you idly smile at his peaceful yet considerably less dirty form. Suddenly his eyes fly open, a puzzled expression upon his handsome features as Triss calmly turns around.

She smiles fondly at him, "Your scars. You heal quite nicely, if not for Y/N's blood you would most certainly be dead." She concludes knowingly as Geralt gives her a confused look, "She dropped some of her blood into your wounds to speed up the healing process. It was more effective then I had first realized." He turns to face you, a relieved sigh escaping from his parted lips.

You smile back at him, "Don't worry about the princess, she'll be fine, Triss has arranged for her to stay with the Sisters of Melitele." You chime in with a shrug, "Also she had her first bath."

"You should know Foltest issued a statement. The honorable Lord Ostrit gave his life to slay the vukodlak. Miners are gathering ore for a statue." Adds Triss with a grin as Geralt attempts to get up, "Anyone else would've killed the princess. You both chose not to." She finishes as Geralt painfully rises into a sitting position, a grimace upon his sweaty face.

"We'll take our coin now. I need to get back to my horse." Grunts your eager Witcher as he sits on the side of the bed, pressing his hand against his wrapped torso. Triss only grins in reply, walking over to hand him the leather sack of coins. He quickly takes it with a nod, Triss turning to flash you a knowing smile before excusing herself from the area.

Turning to Geralt with a frown, you search for his eyes as they glance around the room before landing on you, "Lay down you idiot, I watched you bleed out and go as pale as a ghost." You lightly argue, he sets the coins onto the makeshift bed as he finds your frowning gaze once more, "If I hadn't been there to give you some of my blood...fuck...you'd be dead. So don't you dare try and get up or I'll give you a reason to be in pain."

His stern face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin, "I'd rather not face your wrath my dear, although I wouldn't mind a couple more hours here if you decide to lay next to me." He suggests with pleading eyes, ones that know exactly how to win you over.

Leaning into the soft back of your seat, you cross your arms over your chest, "You're sweating, honestly still smell a bit, and your sheets are stained with blood..." You add with an inquiring raise of your brow, "How could I ever say no to such an alluring offer?" He breaks out into a beaming smile at your humored words, his heart just about fluttering in his muscular chest as you suddenly rise to your feet, walking over to him before crawling over to his other side near the wall. You turn to face him, a hand propped up against your head while you watch him lay down once again. His back touches the mattress as he turns his head to face you, a blissful smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Yes. That's the face right there, the suave steely golden eyes that I've fallen in love with. No matter how beat up you get...you still make me feel things."

"What kind of things, hmm?" He wonders with a lazy smirk as he watches your face break out into a small smile.

Trailing your delicate touch over his old scars, you look over to him with tired eyes, "Things I wouldn't even dare share with the very stars in the sky, nor the moon herself. And I tell her everything." You muse before leaning over to kiss his exposed shoulder. You listen as he hums in delight while you scoot yourself close enough that your whole body is flush against his, "Just sleep for now, love. You've had quite the rough night...and that's putting it lightly. I honestly thought for a moment that...that uh...I might have lost you." He searches for your hand, holding it tightly as a small way to comfort you while he locks eyes with your own downcast ones.

"I wouldn't dare think of ever leaving you alone in this world, not for a second. Y/N you mean more to me then all the coins and jewels combined, more then...uh..."

Laughing you shift your face to gently kiss his bare shoulder before looking up at him once again, "Geralt, there's not a lot of things that you love. That's honestly some short list you've got there...but it matters not, I'm your favorite person in the world and that's all I need to know."

He smiles adoringly at your closing eyes, sleep tenderly calling to you by the second as you hug him closer. He stays silent, wanting to listen to the calming thumps of your relaxed heart beat as your mind drifts into slumber. Closing his own tired eyes, he finally lets sleep take him into darkness where no monsters of any kind wait to hurt him. He's safe in your arms as you're safe in his, the two of you blissfully enjoying one another's company after a taxing hunt.

Tagged: @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce @diegos-butt (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

#the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #Of monsters and men fic

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closedafterdark · 4 years

Note

can u pls do a library smut with a fromis member? jisun would be nice. thank you! ❤️

It’s a normal Monday evening in the university library.

A page is being turned as you eyes scroll through the various words and numbers on it, trying to process the newly presented information. You are currently studying for a biology exam the next morning and in your own particular way, you’re cramming an entire month’s worth of information in one night. Or, at least trying to.

As you scan through the words and images depicted, pretending you have an idea of what’s going on, you are distracted by the sound of a shoe and pencil being tapped repeatedly across from you. Raising your eyes up while your head is pointed to the book, you find the culprit responsible for the noise.

They see you’ve noticed them, causing them to smile as their eyes form crescents.

“Babe, I’m bored.”

“I can see that, Gyuri. You’ve been on the same page for an hour now and you’re tapping a pencil that has zero lead in it.”

Gyuri huffs her cheeks, giving you the cutest pout you’ve ever seen. She was beautiful in every sense of the word - dark brown hair that was perfectly styled with not a trace of split ends, a smile so contagious its only competition would be her eye smile that has melted your heart far too many times, and a pair of long, creamy legs that complemented her model-like proportions. She was your first serious girlfriend, and someone many doubted would be able to make you settle down. You reached in your bag and pulled out your aluminum water bottle, satisfied at how cold it feels due to you adding ice cubes into it. As the liquid quenches your parched throat, you nearly spit it out at Gyuri’s next words.

“Babe, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

You coughed, doing your best to stifle its volume even though you and Gyuri are the only people within your range of vision. Jang Gyuri was a shy, reserved person when in public. Behind closed doors however, she was comfortable in her skin and certainly not shy about how she looked in front of you.

“You threw it into my laundry basket even though you never even wore them.”

“So your roommates know you have a girlfriend.” Gyuri simply replied, taking your water bottle before tilting her head to accept the liquid without it touching her lips. This of course meant an obscene amount came at once, causing it to spill from her mouth and chin onto her shirt below. As the white button up shirt started to become translucent, you noticed it clinging to her milky colored skin. Two pink circles began to form as well, letting you form a knowing conclusion.

“And apparently you’re not wearing a bra either.”

“You always take them off me anyways. What’s the point of wearing one?”

“We’re in public, Gyuri. And even though it’s not windy, I doubt you want people to be staring at them when it is.”

“I like my body. Just like how you like mine. Especially when I don’t have any clothes on.”

“I thought we were here to study?” you said, sighing. “You were the one who wanted to come here anyways.”

“I said I wanted to come here, not actually study.” Gyuri whined, emphasizing the word she enjoyed saying in the bedroom.

“Babe, I actually do want to study. I have a biology midterm that I have to pass in order to not feel like I only show up to lecture and not touch the material when I get home. Especially since you sit on my textbook every time I try to.”

“It’s not my fault I’m more interesting to study than biology.”

“You are, but I want to pass. I’ll study your body tonight when we get back to the dorms.”

“We are studying though, babe.” Gyuri replied. “We’re going to study each other’s reproductive systems right now.”

You sighed when you felt the sole of Gyuri’s foot rub your crotch. Every time you said no to her she never accepted, equipping herself with various methods in order to seduce you into having sex with her. The fact that it was a public place turned her on even more - the two of you nearly getting caught during a date in the movie theater when Gyuri let out an exasperated moan when your head was in between her thighs.

“Come with me.” Gyuri said, quickly packing hers and your things before taking you by the hand to a secluded part of the library. It was a large building containing three floors, most students use the upper two floors. The basement level had staff in it sporadically, rarely ever around since there was no real need to be. Continuing to lead you by the hand, you accidentally bumped into her when she stopped and found a pair of sofa chairs in between bookshelves. You thought it was strange how there could be two chairs in pristine condition in a floor of the library no one ever uses.

Gyuri places both of your bags on one of the chairs before pushing you against a bookshelf. Smiling, she presses her body against yours before roughly kissing you. Normally you would have been afraid of getting caught, but since this is the first floor you have no problems focusing on Gyuri’s tender lips. She quickly unbuttons your shirt before removing it off you and tossing it towards your bags. With your chest and upper body now exposed, Gyuri inserts her hand down your pants. She grins in between kisses as she feels your shaft strengthening in her soft hand. Her free hand is used to unbutton them, before swiftly lowering the zipper on your pants. You moan as you feel her rub her thumb across the slit of your head, spreading the dribbling liquid all across you.

“You said it’s a biology test, right? Why don’t we study what happens when friction is applied to a sensitive specimen.”

Quickly sinking to her knees, Gyuri’s beautiful smile has become a hauntingly terrifying grin as she licks her lips and keeps her gaze remaining on yours. She licks your shaft up and down, her soft pink tongue lubricating your cock with her warm saliva as she strokes you to full erection. The pleasure shoots through your body like a sharp needle.

No matter how many times she has done it, nothing could ever prepare you for when Gyuri takes you inside her mouth. You immediately react by closing your eyes shut and tilt your head back as her warm, wet cavern relaxes your tense body. Taking every ounce of willpower you had, your eyes opened to look down and be greeted by Gyuri bobbing her head up and down, her beautiful brown hair that contained blonde highlights taking every inch of your shaft. Parts of your cock remain visible for only a second as she takes you in and out, her lips forming an airtight seal as her tongue brushes against your underside and earns her a series of satisfied moans.

Gyuri was cute, even more than any other person you’ve met in university. But very few possessed a cute face who would be able to change your perception of them while they performed a lewd act. Her round, soft features made her beauty unreal; and every day you silently prayed and thanked the heavens that they allowed you to exist in this lifetime with such a divine woman. The mere act of a woman’s lips wrapped around a penis was truly sinful - but the fact that Gyuri, your girlfriend was the one doing it turned you on to no end.

You watched as your cock pumped in and out of her small mouth. Your hands quickly reached for the sides of her head and firmly rested on it as she continued to pleasure you. You’ve had your fair share of blowjobs, many were soft and considerate of your feelings, or given by those who were inexperienced. But Gyuri’s were a league of their own from the very first one she gave you. She knew the purpose of the action she was performing on you, to give you as much pleasure as possible in a quick manner. You and Gyuri shared tender, intimate moments during sex but the ones you loved the most was when she wanted dirty pleasure and pure lust for the both of you.

“Babe… fuck, that feels so good.”

Gyuri releases your cock from her mouth with a loud pop. You were now drenched in her saliva, copious amounts leaking out of her mouth onto her chin as she remains connected to you by a string of spit.

“Fuck my face. Now.” Gyuri hissed, her tone sharp. Her eyes formed crescents, but lacked the same glint they possessed whenever she smiled. She had an angry, determined look on her face as if she wanted you to do so without her having to say it out loud. Returning her mouth back onto your cock, your hands dug into her head slightly. There was no need to tell you twice.

Wanting to give her soft strokes at first to get used to you, she shot you an angry look as you rocked your hips back and forth. You drove your cock in and out of her needy mouth, her wet lips continuing to form a tight hold on you as you fucked her mouth. Her hands held onto your hips to keep herself steady as you thrusted into her wet cavern. She felt your balls slapping against her chin each time, causing her to release a stifled laugh that vibrated against the underside of your cock.

You loved getting head just as much as Gyuri loved giving it to you. She loved the power she held whenever she did so, your erotic moans of pleasure always made her wet. The first time she asked you to facefuck her you were nervous, afraid you were hurting her. But after she admitted it turned her on, you wanted to do it even more to train her throat and your stamina.

“Your mouth feels so good, babe.”

“Mmmph…” Gyuri moaned. She grew accustomed to talking dirty the longer you two continued to date, but there was nothing more intoxicating than her struggle to speak due to her mouth being stuffed full with your cock.

You almost forget you were still in a public place - the library. That at any time, someone for whatever reason, could drop by and see your girlfriend on her knees as you liberally fuck her face. The two of you jump slightly in response when you hear something fall, only to discover it was just your shirt now on the ground.

Gyuri takes you stopping as a cue to release your cock from her mouth, the action creating a loud suction popping sound as saliva begins to drip from it onto the ground. Gyuri giggles, her lips curving into her all too familiar sweet smile as she grips your cock and nuzzles it against her cheek.

You smiled back in response. Despite the sinful act you two were committing in public, you were happy Gyuri was enjoying your company as much as you enjoyed hers. She continues stroking your cock as she gets on her feet and is greeted by a deep and passionate kiss from you.

“I want to get fucked now.” Gyuri whispers softly into your ear. As she smiles and turns around, you watch her slide her skirt onto the floor. You squeeze her butt, smacking it softly after doing so. Gyuri lets out a soft moan, turning around as she bites her lower lip at you.

You figured it was time to let off some steam, especially since Gyuri’s hormones prevented you from studying. You grabbed onto her butt once more before pushing her against a bookshelf. She tilts her head behind her as you give her another deep kiss. The both of you moan as your cock brushes against her lips.

You secretly wished Gyuri wore her black thong as it was your favorite. And although she possessed dozens of the exact same color and style, the one she threw in the laundry basket was special as it was the one she wore the very first time you two decided to be intimate. Your cock rubs the underside of her lips once more, her glistening juices coating you each time you pass it.

“Babe, I want to be fucked. Fuck me already.” Gyuri whined, her voice increasing in volume and frustration. Your hands were currently on her buttcheeks so she decides to take matters into her own hand as she strokes your cock before aligning it against herself. When the few seconds that feel like minutes pass, you are greeted by your shaft finally penetrating her hot, wet pussy. Gyuri was drenched, from being horny in the upper level of the library to the facefuck you just gave her that your cock slides easily into her body.

She gasps loudly, one that you were scared could be heard from the second floor. Any sentiments you had on the matter were not shared by her as she squeezes you tightly with her arms as her pussy wraps itself on your cock. There was no one, not even the dean of the university who could stop you from fucking your girlfriend in this very moment.

You begin by giving Gyuri a series of short, rapid thrusts. While you wanted to start out rough right away, you missed being on a bed as you had to support her. Her body is pressed against the bookshelf, grabbing onto the edges of it as you fucked her.

“Babe, you’re so big… holy fuck.” Gyuri said softly. You expected her to be loud like how she normally is in the bedroom, but apparently even she knows to keep her voice down in public.

You slapped her ass softly while continuing to fuck her needy, tight pussy. It squeezes your cock with each thrust, you were afraid it would trap you inside her forever. Her juices quickly flowed out, coating your shaft thoroughly as it began to seep out and stain both of your thighs.

Wishing there was a mirror on the bookshelf so you could watch Gyuri’s face as you fucked her, her body squirmed with each thrust as her erotic and lust filled moans filled both of your ears.

“Harder, babe… fuck me harder.” she said in a demanding tone. You squeezed her ass harder as her body continued to be pressed against the bookshelf, the books shaking as you fucked her at a rapid pace.

Neither of you cared anymore as the increasingly loud smacks of your wet flesh against hers along with Gyuri’s stead streams of moans and pleas to fuck her filled the room. Despite her efforts to stifle them, she knew it was useless from the pleasure you were giving her. All that mattered to you both was the pleasure building up in your bodies. You felt her tight pussy begin to pulsate against your cock, letting you know she was getting close.

“Oh… fuck!” Gyuri screamed as she suddenly cums. She didn’t expect to have an orgasm so soon as you continued to fuck her during it. Her body shakes violently while the increasing shocks of pleasure are met with your cock repeatedly pounding her. Gyuri knew you loved her orgasms - the way she was a shaking, quivering mess when reaching her euphoric high and how she is reduced to a puddle of hot flesh and a never ending release of body fluids.

“B-Babe… I’m… gonna cum…” you say as you continued fucking her. You were exhausted, but wanting to pay her back for teasing you while you wanted to study. Her juices flooded her cock, as her suffocatingly tight pussy kept a firm vicegrip on you.

“Cum inside me, babe… you better not pull out.” she moaned in between your thrusts.

“You’re… a bad girl aren’t you? You’re gonna walk out of the library with my cum dripping out of you.”

“Oh fuck… yes baby! I want to… feel you inside me… feel your hot cum in me… leaking onto my thighs… Fuck!”

Her filthy words were such a juxtaposition to her cute, innocent mouth. Many knew Gyuri as a shy, loving person who never cursed and always had a smile on her face. What they didn’t know was how she became unleashed in the bedroom, especially by you. And while Gyuri has sat in lectures filled up with your cum, she has never done so after the two of you have had sex in a public place. The mental image of people passing by and wondering why your girlfriend was a sweaty mess as something begins to leak onto her legs turns you on to fuck her even harder.

You push yourself as deep as you could go inside her, her ass smacking against you with each thrust as you finally cum inside Gyuri. Her pussy instantly tightens against your cock as you feel your shaft throb, releasing hot, thick semen all over the walls of her pussy. Gyuri lets out a loud, satisfied moan as she feels herself filled with your cum and her juices mixing together. Your cock head pulses as it continues to pump her body even more.

The two of you were content to be connected together, your hands on Gyuri’s ass as her arms reached for your back and pressed you against her. She feels your grasp on her ass weakening and your cock no longer throbbing inside her as she releases you from her body inch by inch. Doing so causes a large amount of cum to flow out of her pussy, coating her thighs in a sticky mess.

“Baby… that was so hot.” Gyuri said, laughing in satisfaction. The two of you were unable to control the wide smiles on your faces as you two realize you just fucked in the university library.

“That was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.” you said, panting heavily. “That’s not to say you’re bad at making me cum, but holy fuck…”

“No, I feel the same way… it’s like we’ve never fucked that intensely before.”

You wrapped your arms around Gyuri’s waist and gave her a deep, loving kiss. She wraps her arms around your neck as you two reaffirm your love for each other. The moment you two parted for air, you pressed your foreheads together and smiled. Gyuri turns around to get her clothes but not before laughing as you grab her ass.

“Babe!” she playfully whined. “We need to get dressed and get out of here.”

The two of you dressed in silence, putting your backpacks on as you fixed each other’s appearance. You gave each other another tender kiss.

“My place or yours?” Gyuri asked before the two of you headed for the stairs to leave the library.

#asks #fromis 9 #jang gyuri

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