Tumgik
#I once swore off ever attempting animation of any kind AND YET
shirozora-draws · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
... so anyway, fun story, the most complicated thing I had ever animated up to this point were several frames of a galloping horse that I drew extremely messily on some scraps and then decided to combine into a simple animation for shits and giggles. That was years ago. And now out of the blue, I just. Look at this. What the fuck possessed me to try this shit out. I actually upgraded my Clip Studio Paint from PRO to EX just to get my hands on the unlimited frames feature. For an illustration for a fic. What the fuck.
I ought to post the details of some of these doodles in a later post. I accidentally blew up the dpi which led to absolutely massive canvases and a LOT of details that got lost when I had to shrink the images down so that I didn't break AO3 formatting.
Anyway, chapter 4 of The Suns is finally up.
478 notes · View notes
golden-wingseos · 3 years
Text
from him, the sun - baizhu
featuring —
✧ baizhu x gn!reader
warnings ―
✧ written before baizhu's release (is he ever going to get released??)
notes ―
✧ e
synopsis ―
✧ for a seasoned adventurer like you, getting injured was a phenomenon all-too common. determined to escape from bubu pharmacy, it seems things didn't go as planned... because you were caught.
Tumblr media
“Today, I will escape.” You thought with a determined expression, fists clenched as you peeked out the door of your confinement room.
Baizhu—the head of Bubu Pharmacy—was very used to your visits. So much so, that he had a day in the week reserved for you solely because you had managed to get injured so much.
Was it a skill? Definitely. For a high-caliber adventurer like you, getting injured so often was only a trademark of how cool you were.
Was it an opportunity to get to know the handsome-yet-mysterious owner of the Pharmacy? Yes. Though, you had made no advances.
But now! Now, you’ve had enough! Baizhu had told you to stay put in your room so you could ‘heal’ or whatever— but that’s lame!
Hearing no footsteps and seeing no people, you had concluded: Wow. They’re finally gone. Even Qiqi had remembered enough to not let you worsen your leg injury, so she was definitely off limits.
Taking a single step out into the lobby, you glanced around once more, the sharp smell of herbs stinging your nose and lungs as they seemed to pierce your dull senses.
“I’m free!” You exclaimed, speedwalking (so your leg wouldn’t act up) straight out of the pharmacy. You may not be from Mondstadt— but damn! Bless Barbatos! Let the Wind Lead!
“Is that so?”
You ignored that voice. Nope! You were most definitely free!
Of course, that was until a hand reached out— grabbing the back of your collar and refraining you from taking any more steps out and towards the light.
Holding you firmly like a dog by a collar, you didn’t bother to turn around to see who your captor was. Seriously, even though the man holding you like an animal was supposed to be ‘fragile’ and ‘frail’, there was absolutely nothing frail about him!
“Ah hah… ayeee…” Averting your eyes from his own golden ones, the kind smile on the male’s face indicated that he had already anticipated your sudden patriotic ‘escape’ before you had even thought of it.
Damn intelligent men.
“Is your leg feeling better?” Baizhu settled you lightly on the floor, side-eyeing you just in case you’d decide to make a break for it again.
“Yes, very much so. It’s so much better that I feel like I can go outside and ru—”
“Hm… it seems to still be swelling. Hold on for a moment, I’ll get you some ointment.” Not falling for your obvious lie, Baizhu began sorting through some bottles on the counter behind the reception desk, complicated names and texts scribbled across their lids.
“Here, hold still,” Gesturing for you to sit atop the desk, Baizhu began to roll the hem of your pants up, taking the ointment across his fingertips and smearing it on the swell of your shin.
“Oh, it feels better!” You exclaimed in awe, about to flail your leg around if it weren’t for the warm hand resting on your knee, signaling you to stop whatever dumb move you were about to do.
“Now, you should go back to your room. We wouldn’t want you getting more injured in futile attempts to run off into the sunset.” Smiling innocently, you swore there was a hint of cheekiness in that delicate face of his.
“Eh?” You gasped, stumbling once Baizhu ushered you back into the treatment room, your figure visibly deflating as you tried convincing the pharmacist otherwise.
“Please? Please? Can I just watch you play with your drugs or something? WHY? I don’t want to go back! It’s boring!” Whining like a toddler, Baizhu could merely sigh at your antics before abruptly stopping, pausing you alongside him.
“Okay. Just make sure not to strain yourself, alright?”
“HUH? Baizhu caring about me?! Since when?!”
“. . . I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
[❦]
It seems that fateful interaction was what led you to be sitting in the very corner of Baizhu’s herb room, watching him sort through different kinds of leaves as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.
I think I’ll get intoxicated by just sitting in here, covering your nose in an attempt to shield yourself from the pungent smell of just vegetation and weird materials. It was no surprise that the ever-observant Baizhu noticed your change in posture.
“You don’t have to sit here and watch, go get some rest.” The male turned over to you, hands dusted with all shades of colors thanks to the items he was handling just earlier.
“No, it’s okay. What you’re doing looks interesting.” Overcoming the smell, you quickly stood up, shuffling over to the empty spot beside the pharmacist.
“Would you like to learn about the different kinds of remedial herbs?” He queried nonchalantly. Yet at that moment, you swore Baizhu was one of the prettiest— if not the prettiest thing you have ever seen.
His pale green hair reflected in the light like a mirror, rays of pinks and yellows appearing in his hair as if pixie dust had been sprinkled all over it. Then your eyes trailed down to his neck, which did not host the pearl white snake you had grown so accustomed to.
Strange, yet gorgeous. Baizhu was perhaps a specimen, an enigma in the galaxy that you have yet to figure out. Like Venus, all you could do was admire from afar, hoping that he’d notice you in the sea of millions.
And perhaps in this moment, he did. He gazed at you generously, fondly, even. Like a moonflower untouched by mankind, you quickly averted your eyes from that same generous gaze— worried that your heart may explode at this rate.
Maybe, Baizhu was like the sun. Untouchable and bright, a being you saw every day yet hardly knew much about you. And you— you were the sunflower. Prospering under his care and touch, this brief interaction of silent observation would certainly be one that’d remain timeless.
“... Sure.” Snapping out of your trance, you quickly turned away from him. Your ears felt hot, heart thumping in your chest so fast you were worried your rib cage couldn’t contain the organ anymore.
Feigning obliviousness to your dazed expression, Baizhu began picking up different types of herbs, listing their names so fluently you wondered if it was another language you were yet to learn.
Foreign names like chamomile and feverfew popped up, ginseng and ginger being familiar to your ears because Mr. Zhongli from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor oftentimes made tea out of such herbs. Perhaps you should thank the amber-eyed man later for being so knowledgeable in teas.
“[Name]?” The pharmacist paused, using this brief moment to look at you, “are you okay? You don’t have to listen, you can even go walk around the harbor if you want.”
The idea was tempting, like a dream turning into a reality. Yet something was pulling you back, like the Earth and the Sun. Maybe, just maybe you were Icarus. Baizhu was so close yet so far, and you only wanted to inch higher and higher, burning those wings made of wax in the process.
No. A more ideal comparison would be of the rainbow bird— or was it? You couldn’t tell. Tempting like a golden apple during a race for love, tantalizing like wafting food in front of a starving man.
But today. Today, you will take your chance.
“It’s alright. I’d rather be here with you anyways,” your voice dipped into a whisper, like a river running dry or a bird’s call being silenced mid-scream.
Was this alright? Was it alright to backpedal on an opportunity you had yearned for for so long?
You swore you caught the faintest of red tipped onto Baizhu’s ears. Yes, he was definitely still the ever-enigmatic sun you had assumed of him originally,
But now— maybe you were just a little bit closer than before, though unlike Icarus— you had already fallen long before the sun could burn your wings.
181 notes · View notes
calumrose · 3 years
Text
At The End Of The Day || L.H
Tumblr media
A//N: Long time no see! Hello! It’s been a hot minute since I posted on here, and considering I finally managed to sit down and finished something that I started, I decided it was worthy enough to post. Hopefully I’m gonna have a few more things in the works with any luck, so keep an eye out for those! Anyway, I hope you guys like this!
Word Count: 5.9k
The end of the day was always a favourite time of Luke’s – a time when all the events which made up the hours that he had spent awake came to a halt, when the ticking of the clock seemed to slow down as the sun would begin to set. It was a time where he could slow down, much like that of the clock, where he could lay his head against the back of the sofa and take a breath as his mind caught up with his body on the events of the day. It was a time reserved for him and his family.
The familiar voices of Winnie The Pooh and his friends filled the living room, their adventure taking them deep into the hundred-acre wood, towards the destination that Elle had reminded Luke was called ‘Heffalump Hollow’ (as if he could forget). The contagious laugh of Tigger erupted through the speakers along with the springing sound of his tail as he bounced, the quiet stutter of Piglet sounding not too long after him, asking him where he was going. Luke had forgotten how many times he had watched this same scene, the same movie, in that week, let alone in his lifetime. It was a favourite of the girls, one they requested often, and who was Luke to deny their bright blue eyes blinking up at him when they asked.
A movement on Luke’s chest broke his attention from the animation which played out on the screen in front of him, his eyes dropping to look downwards. His gaze fell to a small head of blonde curls, a little peeking out from beneath the blanket which covered their two bodies. He felt a pair of little knees pushing against his stomach, Kenzie’s little body wriggling slightly against him as she attempted to move herself further up, a soft grumble sounding from between her pouted lips as she attempted to climb. Subtly, Luke slipped his hands beneath her arms and helped her out, chuckling quietly under his breath as he moved her, allowing for her to settle a little closer to him than where she had been laying previously. Her curls tickled his neck as she tucked her head in, a warm cheek becoming pressed up against the crook where his neck met his shoulder, messy curls tickling Luke’s jaw and ear.
A content sigh slipped from Kenzie’s small, pouting lips, a little wisp of air tickling Luke’s skin as she relaxed once more. Luke pulled the blanket a little further up, making sure Kenzie’s torso was once again covered by the warm fabric, protecting her same frame from the slight draft which was known to creep in after sunset. He brought a hand to lay on her back, the tip of his thumb lightly brushing the back of her small neck with every gentle swipe.
Looking down the best he could without moving his head too much, Luke caught a glimpse at his youngest daughter, a small smile curling at his lips as soon as his eyes caught sight of her own. He could see the reflection of the TV in her sweet eyes, the sparkles within them catching the light of the TV, only making the blue of her iris seem brighter. She looked so calm, yet so enthralled by the colourful movie, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks with every slow blink as she watched her favourite characters chatter and run around.
His children’s expressions always fascinated Luke: how their little faces could make the simple smile seem like the most incredible thing he had ever seen. Kenzie’s expressions were slowly developing as she got older, her little face always trying to copy whatever faces Elle would pull or the faces she would watch you and Luke make at her when playing. Kenzie’s current favourite was the most recent one that Elle had taught her, her older sister being very proud of herself for having taught the little one to copy it. She loved to stick her tongue out at you and Luke, giggling and clapping her hands together when she knew she had been caught. She always found it funny when you caught her little tongue poking out from between her lips. Even you and Luke had to admit that it was quite funny considering how young she was.
Luke let his eyes drift across the room, ears pricking up at the sound of his eldest’s voice talking quietly – he assumed – to herself. He caught sight of you laying across the floor, your head resting against a cushion which you had taken from the other sofa, tilted to the left as you looked up at the TV where Elle was pointing. Blue eyes drifted downward, his focus falling to where Elle’s head lay on your stomach, one of your hands lightly running through her curls, which you had pulled free from the ponytail that they had been tied in earlier in the afternoon.
He could just make out the hint of natural pink in her supple cheeks, her grin pushing them upwards as she giggled at the incident that occurred between Rabbit and Tigger. He could hear you talking back to her, your voice low and delicate, a caring, motherly tone lacing your voice as you answered what he assumed was a question that she had asked.
The movie continued to play, bright colours flashing across the screen as the story developed further and new characters were introduced. You noticed Elle’s face light up when her favourite scenes played, and her eyes lit up upon seeing them, her little mouth mumbling along to the ‘Shoulder to Shoulder’ song the best she could, her little head swaying from side to side as she remained to lay against you.
You also noticed the sadness in Elle’s eyes when the scene where Roo and Lumpy were unable to find Lumpy’s mother played, the two boys trekking through the woods in search of her. It broke your heart to see her look so sad, her little eyes turning big and glossy as she looked up at the screen. You continued to comb your fingers through her hair to comfort her, your fingertips tucking straggling curls around her ears, your skin gently brushing against the shell of her ear as you moved your hand back into her curls.
“Mumma, what if Lumpy can’t find her?” Elle sniffled, her head turning to look at you from where she lay. Your eyes met her blue ones, seeing the shine in them from the unshed tears which threatened to bubble at the sad occurrence that played out in her favourite movie.
You wanted to remind her that she knew how the movie ended, that she knew that the little Heffalump would find his mother shortly and be reunited, but part of you felt like that was ruining the effect of the movie for her. You still wanted to assure her that it was alright though, that it would turn out alright.
“Don’t worry, baby, he’ll find her. He’s just got to look a little further, yeah? He’ll find his Mumma soon.” You whispered the words to her, looking down at her and offering a reassuring smile in the hopes of relieving the little ounce of sadness which she felt.
Luke watched from where he lay on the couch, eyes never tearing from the sight of you and Elle as you talked quietly to one another and watched as the plot of the children’s movie continued to unfold before you. It amazed him how you were with the girls, how they looked at you like you were their world, much like how you said they looked at him, but he swore it was different when their eyes fell to you. There was something different in the way which they saw you, something different which sparkled in the blue ocean of their irises. He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was, but he knew it was something special, something that he, himself, could never receive. It was only reserved for you, a unique light which sparked within them when it came to you.
You had always said that your girls were definitely ‘Daddy’s girls’ but Luke swore in that moment when he looked at you and Elle, you were giving him a run for his money. He knew he would happily have one of his girls turn into a ‘Mumma’s girl’ any day of the week, loving nothing more than to see them with you and to bear witness to the love that they had for you especially.
As the movie slowly began to come to an end, the final scene starting to play out, Luke knew it was nearly time to get the girls ready for bed. It was getting late – ‘past their bedtime’ kind of late to be exact, and both of you were sure it wouldn’t take long for the girls to fall asleep once you put them to bed.
Luke took a glance down at where Kenzie laid on his chest, her head having moved so it was more curled downwards towards the centre of his chest, her shoulders hunched up as her body curled up in place. Her hands were tucked next to her face, little fingers curled into the fabric of Luke’s sweatshirt, grasping the soft grey item in her small hands as she snuggled her cheek against it. She looked cosy, the fringe of the blanket that was covering her tickled her skin, the cream-coloured tassels falling from the edging of the fabric and brushing her neck slightly.
He noticed how her eyes were closed, delicate lashes fluttering against her supple cheeks. Her lips curled into a pout as she slept, little puffs of air slipping out with every gentle breath she released. Luke wondered how long she had made it into the movie before she had drifted off, remembering how tired she was earlier in the evening when they had finished dinner, tired hands rubbing at her eyes as she let out a little yawn now and again. It appeared Kenzie had decided that she would dictate when her bedtime was this time.
The music which played alongside the credits was a tune that you and Luke swore you could sing in your sleep, it being a song you heard numerous times in the week, never mind that month, along with the many others which decorated the soundtrack of what was your girls’ favourite movie.
Gently, you encouraged Elle to get up, using your hand to help her sit upright before doing so yourself, the two of you standing to your feet before you handed her the cushion you had been resting on to go and put it back on the sofa where it belonged. Her little feet sounded delicately against the floor, skipping around the coffee table as she moved towards the sofa, leaning over with a soft grunt and she placed the cushion back in its original placement. You smiled as she gave it a gentle pat upon placing it down – a notion she had watched you do before.
“Right, missy, bath time, let’s go,” You ran your hand through her hair as she came back to stand in front of you, the two of you facing Luke who remained laying across the couch with Kenzie asleep on his chest. “Why don’t you go upstairs and pick out what toys you want in your bath and maybe, if you’re quick, Daddy will come and kiss you goodnight when you go to bed.”
“But Daddy always kisses me goodnight?” Elle furrowed her brow, a little confused. She tilted her head up to look at you as you stood behind her, the crown of her head pressing against your thigh.
Unable to help your smile, you cupped her face with your hands, her soft cheeks sitting in your palms as you leaned down and pressed a little kiss to the tip of her nose, mumbling a quiet, “Just go and pick some toys, okay? I’ll be up in a minute to start your bath.”
With another quick kiss to her nose, you sent her on her way, listening to her little feet as the sound of pitter patter bounced against the hallway floor, slowing down as she came towards the stairs, beginning to climb them one at a time. You could hear each foot make contact with each individual step, the rhythmic sound of ‘1-2’ sounding as she climbed. 
“Is she holding onto the railing?” Luke asked.
You leaned back slightly, just enough so you could catch the sight of Elle on the stairs through the open doorway. You watched as she took each step one at a time, her little hand clutching around the bars of the bannister like Luke had taught her as she climbed. Smiling, you gave him a nod, laughing softly as you watched her, noticing how she refused to take her eyes off her feet, watching every step she took to make sure she didn’t stumble. “Just like you’ve always told her to.”
“That’s my girl.” Luke said, proudly.
You each listened out for Elle as she entered the bathroom, the two of you wincing as you heard the door knocking against the wall, a small clatter sounding, Elle obviously having pushed it open a bit too eagerly. Continuing to listen out, you could hear Elle begin to rifle her way through the wicker basket which contained the collection of toys that were reserved for bath time.
“I suppose I should head up and make sure she doesn’t make it so that there’s more toys than water in her bath,” You reached a hand out as you moved closer to the couch where Luke and Kenzie lay, combing your fingers through Luke’s fluffy hair much like how you had done with Elle throughout the movie. It was a notion he loved, a soothing comfort which you had given him since the day you met, a natural placement where your hand would reside when you lay together. You smiled as you took notice of his expression shifting; how his eyes fluttered close momentarily and his smile became slightly looser around the edges. He was slowly slipping into relaxation – a common state whenever you played with his hair, even after all the time you had been together. “Are you okay to put Kenzie down while I give the princess a bath?”
“Of course,” Luke’s words were quiet as they fell, his eyes slowly opening and looking up to meet yours. “I’ll take her upstairs and get her changed before I put her down, and then I’ll come through and say goodnight to Elle.”
Luke swore he felt his heart sing at the sight of your smile, seeing the way your cheeks rose at the mention of putting your girls to bed. It was a special time for the two of you – bedtime. It was a time that had quickly become a favourite of yours as the girls had gotten that little bit older, finding the fun and love in the small interactions which came with wishing them a goodnight sleep. You both saw one another fall into their element at bedtime; voices having gone soft, touches even more so, and sweet smiles which looked up at the two of you made your hearts feel like they were close to bursting. 
Ascending to the top of the stairs meant that you were welcomed with the sound of gentle yet rapid chatter, Elle’s sweet voice coming from within the doorway of the bathroom as she continued to search through her basket of bath time toys to find her perfect selection. Luke dreaded to think how many she had already set aside, pushing them towards the white ceramic of the bathtub as she waited for you to come in and start filling the tub. He wondered if she had picked out her pink dolphin or if she had chosen her mermaid. He was sure he would find out soon enough, already anticipating the warm giggles he would, undoubtedly, hear echo through the hall. 
With a parting kiss to your hairline, Luke let you go to attend to your eldest. He watched as you left his side, his arms still settled comfortably around a sleeping Kenzie, and disappeared through the wooden doorway. As he passed the bathroom door himself, he spotted the few toys that Elle had set out on the floor, many of them littering your feet where you stood. Bath time was never dull when it came to Elle. 
Entering the nursery, Luke gently pushed the door open with his foot, catching it just before it swung too far, and carefully closed it behind him with a soft click once he was inside. His feet sunk into the soft carpet as he walked around the room, hands opening drawers without a second thought, fingers plucking a set of pyjamas from within them and gently tossing them to the changing table. 
Taking a few small strides towards the window, Luke reached down, making sure he had a good hold of Kenzie still, and flicked the switch which turned on her nightlight. He watched as the warm gold colour began to shine upwards, painting the ceiling in soft shapes which somewhat resembled that of the stars in the night sky.
Luke’s body knew Kenzie’s bedtime routine better than anyone, it seemed to move completely of its own accord as he walked around the room and prepared the nursery for the night ahead. Without thinking, Luke remembered to turn on her nightlight, to find one of the few pacifiers that seemed to inhabit Kenzie’s crib and lay it next to where her head would be.
Luke’s movements were steady as he slowly attempted to lower Kenzie down on the changing table, a hand cradling the back of her small head, while a large hand splashed across the base of her back. He lowered her legs down first, careful to make sure she was against the soft plush cushion on the table instead of the cold wood. Carefully setting her bottom half down, Luke slowly moved his hand further up her back, lowering her down further. 
The sweet noises Kenzie made went straight to his heart, as if Cupid, themself, were scoring a perfect bullseye with his arrow. Luke felt his heart clench with every noise that slept past Kenzie’s small lips, the sounds so soft and quiet that he swore he almost missed them. He knew that the separation would possibly upset, even risk waking her, but he hoped that with the warmth that danced around the room, she would remain asleep so he could get her tucked up in her crib without having her be unsettled. 
Laying her head down came quite easy, the back of Luke’s hand gently resting against the patterned cushion of the changing table, remaining there for a moment extra as he looked down at his sleeping daughter. Her cheeks were slightly rosy from having laid against Luke for the past hour or so, the warmth of his body having radiated through his clothes and onto her skin. Running a thumb along the outside of Kenzie’s face, Luke smiled at the feeling of her skin against his own, watching the way her face slightly turned towards his touch. 
Carefully and slowly, Luke began to retract his hand from beneath her head, the movement steady and delicate as he allowed for the back of her head to rest against the table, whispering a quiet “there we go, sweetheart” once his hand was free. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy — undressing the sleeping baby and attempting to dress her again. Kenzie was a heavy sleeper, and Luke was certain she could sleep through a lot of things, but this? Maybe not.
Nimble fingers began to unclip the buckles of Kenzie’s dungarees, carefully moving the straps so they lay against the table next to Kenzie’s head. Luke was careful to keep the noise and movements to a minimum, gentle hands being used to lift Kenzie’s bottom half up slightly as his thumb and index finger of one hand carefully pulled on the denim leg of her outfit, causing the fabric to slip off her leg so Luke could remove it. Once one leg was free, Luke moved onto the other, copying the same actions as done with the previous. Removing the fabric from Kenzie completely, Luke removed it from the table with one of his hands, gently lowering Kenzie down with the other, so she lay completely against the table once more. He placed the denim attire on the rocking chair not too far behind him, mentally reminding himself to toss it into the washing hamper, along with the rest of her clothes once he had put Kenzie down.
Next were her socks. Luke’s fingers grabbed a hold of the little white frill which decorated the edge of the item, the lace delicate and frail between his fingers much like Kenzie. Holding onto her leg with a gentle hold, Luke began to pull down the ribbed fabric, removing it from her foot and allowing for her little bean-sized toes to be exposed to the warm air in the bedroom. He made quick work of the other sock too, chuckling quietly to himself as she watched Kenzie move one of her legs, watching from the corner of his eye as he noticed the movement of her little toes, watching how they curled and wiggled once becoming free from the confinements of the socks she had worn that day.
He managed to carefully remove her t-shirt, slipping out an arm at a time before being able to stretch the collar just enough to slide it over her head without too much difficulty. Getting her pyjamas on wasn’t too hard when it came to it. Lifting Kenzie gently back up, holding her against his chest, Luke managed to straighten out her cloud themed pyjamas so he could lay her down on top of them. Using a gentle hold, he slipped both of her legs into the corresponding spaces, popping her little feet through the soft cuffs at the end. He laughed to himself as he attempted to get her arms into the sleeves, gently pulling the sleeves down over her wrists so her hands became free also. 
Gently lifting the split edges of her pyjamas, Luke lay them against her chest, making sure each button was lined up with the hole he would have to pop it through to secure the fabric on Kenzie’s small frame. He heard soft noises begin to slip from her lips, little whines sounding as she lifted an arm in the air, a fragile hand coming to wipe at her face. 
Luke brought his own hand up, curling his index finger as he brushed his knuckle against the apple of her cheek, pursing his lips as he began to hush her. His skin grazed her soft cheek, gently allowing for the sensation to tickle her lightly, mixing in with the quiet pushing of air that fell from his lips as they mixed to create a beautiful soothing commotion which he hoped Kenzie found settling. 
“Shhh… that’s it, sweetheart…” Luke’s voice barely whispered, looking down at her with kind eyes as her face scrunched and head turned. He knew she was probably getting cold, having been undressed and left with her pyjamas open against her chest. Luke would fix that soon enough. “Nearly done, baby, and then we’ll get you tucked up in bed, yeah?” 
Her whines slowly began to quieten, her lips pouting as she wriggled in place, slowly bringing her arm back down to rest beside her. She began to settle against his touch, a content hum sounding from within her throat that made Luke’s heart fly. The sound brought a warm smile to return to Luke’s face, one that was reserved for his girls, one that only they had the power to pull from him. 
It amazed Luke how easy it was with them, how easy he found it to be so helplessly in love with two little girls who were all the best parts of him but more so of you. He loved watching them grow, watching them discover, it had become his favourite thing to witness. Being able to watch them from the very moment they entered the world to the moments that he lived with them now was the best gift he could ever have dreamed of.
At the end of the day this was what his life was destined to be — full of love and light. 
Luke made nimble work of buttoning up Kenzie’s pyjamas, quietly counting each button as he successfully secured it through the corresponding slot. Upon securing the final button, Luke rested his thumbs against the collar of Kenzie’s soft clothing, index fingers stretching up and gently brushing against the supple skin of her cheeks. He smiled at how rosy they remained to be, chuckling quietly as he noticed her little lips, which were shaped like delicate petals, and as pretty as a magnolia in May, part slightly at the faint touch.
Behind the closed door, Luke could faintly hear the voices that belonged to the two other souls which inhabited the home, their sweet voices ringing in giggles and playful squeals that were muffled slightly by the wooden door. He could hear the faint splashing of water, followed by the soft sound of ‘Mumma, look!’. Luke wondered what Elle would be showing you, what had caused her voice to be laced with such eagerness that she demanded your attention in that moment. He wondered what her face looked like, if her smile was wide and infectious like it was known to be or if her eyes had gone wide as her hand pointed to her new discovery. 
“It sounds like Elle’s having a lot of fun in there, huh?” Luke mumbled quietly, not quite sure if he was talking to himself or the sleeping baby in front of him, aware she was unable to answer even if she were awake. “I wonder how much water will be on the floor by the time she’s all clean.” 
Bringing Kenzie back to his chest felt like a warm hug, Luke’s hands slipping beneath her body and head as he lifted her up, removing her from the changing table. He settled her gently against him, resting her so her chest lay peacefully against his, and her little feet fell against his stomach, her small toes grazing against the fabric of his jumper. 
With a hand laid comfortably on her small back, thumb and pinkie curling around either side of her, Luke began to carry her across the room to her crib. Careful feet pressed against the plush carpet, heels and toes sinking into the soft fabric of the rug which decorated the centre of the room as he crossed it. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head as he walked, the touch so light that he barely felt it himself, wisps of her blonde tickling his nose as he leaned in. 
Luke came to the edge of Kenzie’s crib, gently beginning to bring Kenzie away from his chest, hands carefully holding her as he began to lower her down, allowing for her body to connect with the soft, comfortable mattress in her crib. Luke continued to softly hush her, hearing her soft noises begin to increase once again at the loss of warmth she suffered when separated from him. 
Luke grazed a knuckle against her cheek like he did before, continuing the soft hushing as he reached down for her blanket, pulling the familiar soft fabric upwards. He tucked it over her body, making sure her chest and shoulders were covered, as well as making sure her small feet were protected from the night air. Gentle fingers made sure she was tucked in, that she would stay warm throughout the night with the trusty blanket, a gift that she had slept with since the first night she was brought home. 
“Sleep tight, sweetheart.” Luke bid her a warm goodnight. 
Bringing his eyes back to her sweet face, Luke felt his heart fly once more. Her lips remained parted, cheeks rosy, and lashes fluttered delicately against her soft skin. Luke wondered how he ever got so lucky, how he had become so blessed to have a family like he did, to have you, to have his girls, to have everything that he could have ever wanted right in front of him. 
At the end of the day, Luke had everything he needed. He had a family. 
Moving just a few steps down the hallway, Luke was welcomed to the sound of the two voices which he heard previously. He followed the voices, a smile still on his face as they increased in volume with the closer he got to the familiar bedroom door that was left ajar. He peeked through the crack, feeling the warmth in his stomach strike like a warm fire upon seeing the sight that his eyes were welcomed with. 
The two of you were tucked up in Elle’s bed, the four-year-old curled into your arms as you gently brushed her damp curls back with the tips of your fingers. She was tucked under the covers, the pink sheets brought up to her shoulders as her cheek became pressed against your chest. You tucked locks of golden hair behind her ears, fingertips brushing the small shell as you kissed the top of her head, listening to her small voice as she talked quietly. 
Her words were sweet, little hands playing with the rings on your finger. You watched as she twisted them, the smooth band twirling along your finger as you listened to the words she was tiredly stringing together. The metal of the ring caught the light which cascaded over Elle’s bedroom, her bedside lamp emitting a soft glow across the room, the golden shine catching the ring. 
Minutes seemed to pass as Elle continued to talk, her voice eventually slowing down, words being interrupted by yawns and her eyes slowly began to fall heavy. You felt the weight of her head grow too, her body moving closer to yours as she attempted to cuddle in further. 
“I think it’s about time that a certain someone went to sleep, hm?” Luke chuckled from where he stood by the door, his smile spreading as he caught the two sets of eyes turning to look at him. “It’s past your bedtime, baby girl.” 
Elle let out a childish whine, hands clenched into fists as she reached up and rubbed at her eyes, as if attempting to rid them of the tired ache which resided in them, a quiet “No it isn’t” coming out mixed with a yawn. 
She knew it was past her bedtime, that you had allowed her to stay awake just that little while longer so Luke could say goodnight like you had promised. It amused the two of you how she could barely get through her feeble attempt to argue without letting a yawn slip amid her sentence. 
Luke pushed himself off the doorframe, taking the few steps required to come to the side of Elle’s bed. Kneeling so he was balanced on the balls of his feet, he rested a hand on the edge of her mattress to keep himself steady. He watched as you readjusted Elle, kissing the top of her head as you lay her down, so her head was resting against her confetti-patterned pillow. 
“I think your yawn says otherwise, sweetheart. It’s bedtime for you,” You pressed a kiss to her forehead, brushing your nose against hers. Her blue eyes were growing heavier with every minute, her hands grasping onto the underside of her duvet and she pulled it upwards, tucking it beneath her small chin as she began to snuggle in. She seemed to be cosy, her cheek pressed up against the clean sheets that were still warm from the dryer. “Now say goodnight to Dad and you’ll see him in the morning, okay?” 
She gave a tired nod, her eyes barely open as she turned her head to look at Luke. Blue eyes met blue as she looked up, a sleepy smile on her face as he gave her a sweet smile reserved for her. 
“I’ll see you in the morning, okay, baby?” Luke whispered to her, leaning in to press a goodnight kiss to her forehead, just next to the spot where you had left your own sweet touch. “I love you.”
“Love… Love you too, Dad.” She said through another tired yawn, earning a soft, warm laugh from Luke. 
You both stayed by her bedside for a few extra minutes, your hand gently combing through her hair as she drifted off to sleep, while Luke’s voice gently hummed the same tune that it had since the day she was born. The tune never failed to send her to sleep, even as she grew older, the smile on her face remaining as she listened to the sweet lullaby that belonged to her and let it lull her into a peaceful slumber. 
“Sweet dreams, sunshine.” Luke whispered as he hummed the final line of the song, pressing a soft kiss to Elle’s hairline, before he stood to his feet. 
With gentle steps and quiet hands, the two of you left your eldest’s bedroom, closing the door behind you to prevent any unwelcome sound disturbing her throughout the night. 
The house became quiet once the girls had been put to bed, the blissful silence which enveloped every room of the house became a sound that was almost strange to hear. It was a rare sound, one only reserved for the hours after their bedroom doors were closed and their minds were full of sweet, childish dreams. 
Letting out a breath, you tilted your head back as you blindly looked at the ceiling, your tired eyes closing as you took in the silence for a moment. A pair of warm arms could be felt slipping around your waist, a head on your shoulder and a set of lips pressing a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck. 
“I swear if I have to watch Lumpy find his Mum one more time this week…” 
Luke pressed his mouth against your skin to muffle his laugh at your words, his chest vibrating against your back. 
“You mean to tell me that you don’t enjoy watching the same movie three times in one day?” You could hear the sarcasm that laced his voice. 
“Not particularly, but I do like to watch the girls when they watch it. That’s enough to get me through Lumpy’s word game song every time.” You rested your head back against his shoulder, eyes remaining closed. “I’ll watch a hundred times a day if I get to see Elle’s little face light up when she sees Lumpy for the first time.” 
Luke let out a soft hum, pulling you close to his chest as he held you there, taking in the moment. He realised then that he hadn’t had a chance to hold you throughout the day, not having been given the chance to have a moment with you alone until the evening. 
You were warm to hold, your skin soft against his, like you always were whenever he got the chance to have you in his arms. He was always at how perfectly you fit with him, how your body slotted perfectly in his hold like the piece of the finest jigsaw. Luke knew he would hold you like that for as long as he could if he could get away with it. 
He had found a home in you and you had made a home with him.
And there was no better place to be at the end of the day.
---
Tag List: @steviemae​​ @elsysoza​ @treatallwithkindness​​ @loveroflrh​​ @another-lonely-heart​ @zhangyixingxing1​​ @devilatmydoor​​ @karajaynetoday​​ @ophelia-enthusiast​​ @hoodhoran​​ @lyss-xo​​ @tpwkcth @mythicalamphitrite​​ @hemmo1996-5sosvevo​​ @maggiesupertramp​​ @calpops​ (if it’s crossed it means I couldn’t find your blog to tag you)
If you would like to be added to my tag list, please ask or fill out this form :)
215 notes · View notes
lexcat-11 · 4 years
Text
@rondoel ‘s King AU is probably my favorite thing that has ever come from the Sanders Sides fandom and you should 100% check it out. I decided to join the party of writing something that sort of goes along with it. Hopefully this isn’t too far from the intended canon, but here’s something from Logan’s POV relatively early in the story c: 
Context: Logan’s in his room working to solve this “problem”. Having his voice taken away has made his thoughts louder than normal. 
(About 1,100 words)
-----
Logan’s wrists had begun to ache from the sentences spilling at his fingertips. Keys were forcefully struck down time and time again with frustration, passion, anger, all of the words he couldn’t speak. Numerous pencil tips snapped as he slammed them down onto the paper. His hands were smudged in graphite, causing his skin to be perceived with somewhat of a metallic appearance.
Logan forced a sigh from his lungs, blissfully grateful that his air could at least make a sound. He blinked a few times to fight the tears that were determined to blur his vision. Stress weighed his shoulders and trembled in his hands. His brows were seemingly stuck in a furrowed position. Of course, he hadn’t shown it around the others, that would have been an ignorant mistake, but his head had been figuratively overloading with thoughts.
The silence was deafening and no matter how persistently he attempted to drown it out with music or the noises of keystrokes and pens, he longed to hear his own voice. To perhaps even sing once more alongside Thomas and… Roman. He’d failed to recognize how pleasant singing truly was. 
He longed to stand in front of the others, a contained smile just barely showing at his lips, adjust his glasses ever so slightly, and speak. Speak a thesis, speak an argument, speak the logical answer, and draw the conclusion to the dilemma they’d been arguing over for a near day. He yearned so desperately to quote a philosopher, to regain control, and to convince Thomas (and maybe even himself) that things were in fact okay. 
It felt as though these bottled words were going to explode from his chest. They refused to be suppressed any longer. But each time they’d become too much, each time he swore the sheer frustration that built up would be enough to break this impractical, this highly ineffective, this stupid curse of his, nothing but a wispy breath escaped his throat. He was left drained and powerlessly silent. And he despised being so helpless.
But now was not the time to dwell on self-pity. He had the others to help-- they relied on him. These changes would be temporary, he was absolutely certain of that, and he was determined to reverse them. Fixing problems is what Logan did, not worrying.
His cognitive abilities remained and they would be put to use, no matter how much he overworked himself. Janus had stressed the importance of self-care in this time but Logan insisted (in the form of a notecard) that he was in fact “good, fam.” Though he couldn’t say with any more than a calculated stare and a nod, he had a reason for his actions. 
Thomas wouldn’t have dubbed him the voice of reason if he didn’t.
That didn’t make his eyelids weigh any less, however. Logan heaved another defeated sigh. He tore off his glasses and permitted his head to sink onto his forearms. Perhaps it would be wise to take Janus’ advice, at least for a few minutes or so. Unfortunately, he was in no position to engage in leisure time so at most a quick break to hydrate or stretch would be optimal to maintain productivity.
Logan rose to his feet and twirled his wrists. He turned his head from side to side, closing his weary eyes for a long moment, before stretching his legs and back. He couldn’t help but continue to think of his unfinished work. What was it Thomas often did to clear his mind? There were distractions but ah, right. He would daydream.
Logan’s lips pressed into a straight line. Daydreaming did not appeal to him, for several reasons that most certainly did not involve any emotional responses to the absences of Roman and Remus. But perhaps reflecting…
The development years were subjective, ranging from birth to three, to Thomas’ entire life. However, if he recalled correctly, yes that was right. Twelve years old. Logan, or rather Logic at the time, was approximately twelve years old when he had dethroned the King.
Logic stared down at the King’s fallen form with a lifeless stare. Light reflected against his glasses and his tie hung perfectly straight from his neck. His hands were curled into tight fists at his sides
So much power resonated in twenty-eight well-formed sentences. Logic couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. King’s fantasies were utterly preposterous, clashing with reality at every turn. What kind of irrational nonsense was this talk of magic, of unrealistic dreams? Logic had knocked him down swiftly with the support of Deceit, a side once close with King, and now the monarch lay on his stomach, forcing a laugh with disbelief shining in his pained eyes. 
A pitiful sight, Logic had determined, and foolishly so. There were so many variables he’d overlooked: the formation of hatred, the distrust burning in that sharp glare, the betrayal stemming from the metaphorical sword lodged in his back.
Logic hadn’t been kind in his mutiny. Logan almost felt, no certainly not. He could not feel sympathy for someone so corrupt. Creativity could simply not be let loose like a dog without a leash. The King was impractical. He had not a clue of how things worked, or of what was truly of importance. He was stuck in an illusion of the past bringing nothing but irrelevance and setbacks to the table. He brought destruction, stripped them all of their lives’ constants, and blinded Thomas to what was real! It was Creativity that caused this pain!
And yet...
Logan’s eyes drifted to a jar of Crofters in the far corner of his room, and then to the narrative Roman had written him for Christmas. He gazed at the large fish tank housing a small octopus, the colorful ties he’d been gifted, and to his Sherlock costume tucked away. He studied the paintings of stars and the realistic drawings of animal anatomy the twins had shared with him. He stopped on the “family” portraits he’d secretly hung on the walls.
No matter how cold he appeared on the outside, Logan had a heart. One that pumped blood and adrenaline through his veins and another that held more love than anyone could ever imagine. Logan loved more than the King could ever imagine. He was capable of forgiveness and of seeing things from multiple angles but when that fragile heart was broken Logan was certain of one thing. There would be no justification for hurting his family.
The King could silence his voice, rip every word from his chest but he could never stifle Logan’s desire for greater knowledge. He’d brought down the tyrant once before and he would do it again. 
After all, a great deal of stealth came with silence.
748 notes · View notes
write-ur-wrongs · 3 years
Text
Thank you @itsjammin for the request! I didn’t fully proof-read this one so please forgive any grammatical errors!! I hope you like it !!
Geralt x reader where she’s having a really bad panic attack and Geralt’s not sure how he can help and he just holds her and helps her through it cradling her in his arms and just gently rocking her. After she’s calmed down, he just kisses her forehead and traces patterns on her back and just lots of fluff please!
Trigger warning: Anxiety / panic attack. 
_________________________________________________
You were fine. You’re breathing and you weren’t bleeding and you’re fine. You closed your hands into tight fists in an attempt to ground yourself, digging your nails into your palms as you breathed out slowly through your nose. You felt the weight of your legs on the fallen tree beneath you, pushed your toes into the tip of your shoes and felt the pressure you created. Slowly, you relaxed your fists and rested your open hands on your thighs, feeling the blood rush back into palms. The tiny crescent moon indents in your palm stung dully.
You weren’t injured. You weren’t in danger of being injured. You were fine.
Geralt was watching you wearily from across the crackling fire, his steaming mug of broth hovering inches from his face. You had been balling your hands into fists, knuckles white, and relaxing them slowly on repeat for too long now. He looked over at Jaskier quizzically, a brow raised, but the bard merely mirrored his confusion, returning the look with wide eyes and an animated shrug.
You were normally a steady presence in the group, matching Geralt in energy level and Jaskier in wit. They’d known you for over a year now and had only ever seen you in that light; steady with a silver tongue. Tonight, however, was a completely different story. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened today; you had travelled a peaceful route and stopped in a nice clearing. No one had crossed you and Geralt sensed no threat in the surrounding area. And yet, there you sat, breathing slowly but with great effort, empty eyes looking out at nothing while your forehead was creased with worry.
Geralt wanted to know what was up, but he was no wordsmith. Huffing slightly, he looked at the bard pointedly and jerked his head in your direction, silently begging Jaskier to ask you what was wrong.
Jaskier might be good with words, but never when the situation truly called for it. He could banter with the best of them and diffuse tension with ease, but you were giving off such a distressing energy, he didn’t dare say anything unsure of what you’d do once the tension in you boiled over.
As such, he shook his head wildly and pointed at Geralt while mouthing, “You ask her!”
The two men mimed wildly to one another, both desperate to have the other take charge, oblivious to the fact that you had transitioned from the desperate-to-keep-a-steady-breath phase and into the weight-on-my-chest-is-suffocating-me phase of your episode.  
Jaskier won out though, when he threw a torn piece of bread a the Witcher’s head. With a low grunt, Geralt gingerly placed his mug down and clasped his hands together and leaned over, bracing himself.
He cleared his throat a couple times before hesitantly muttering his question. Unfortunately, his noble attempt fell on death ears.
All you could hear was a dull ringing coupled with the amplified sounds of your body; every breath was deafening, your heartbeat was so loud you felt it in your ears, and you swore you could hear your bones creaking in their joints.
You hated this; all of it. You hated that you couldn’t identify the cause of your panic. That rationally, you knew nothing was wrong, but that wasn’t enough to keep you from spiraling as you were. Normally you could feel these episodes coming and stop them before the settled in full. Your mother had taught you countless coping methods and the healers you met along your travels helped you immensely; especially as new triggers made themselves known to you.
Yet nothing had happened, really. Geralt was a little colder than usual, and he did snap at you quite harshly but that wasn’t new. It was an occupational hazard. Jaskier had been moodier as of late, probably because Geralt snapped at him too, but they’re always squabbling and reconciling. It was their way.
You didn’t see this one coming. At the first sign of trouble, you grounded yourself and counted your breaths. When that didn’t work, you counted things around you; five conifers, three boulders, fifteen pinecones on the floor, and so on. But it didn’t work. You had even pulled out your vial of herbs – all to no avail.
Nothing was helping and everything was too loud. You were in pain but nothing actually hurt. The weight of your body against your bones was crushing but you felt like a ghost.
Oblivious to your internal struggle and unimpressed with the Witcher’s feeble attempt, Jaskier rolled his eyes at Geralt and whipped another piece of bread at him. Frustrated and frazzled, Geralt threw the bread back to the bard with force, shot him a death glare, and wiped his sweaty palms on the top of his legs before trying again.
“Y/N... hm… how –”
“I’m fine!” you barked, although your voice wavered in a way that clearly indicated you were far from fine.
Geralt looked to Jaskier in desperation, not wanting to have to try again, but Jaskier was already up and walking backwards towards Roach, mouthing ‘sorry’ and ‘good luck’ as he washed his hands of the whole affair.
Geralt rolled his eyes and muttered a quiet, ‘fuck’, before getting up to cross the fire and settle beside you uncomfortably.
The moment you realized Geralt had come to your side, your chin wobbled and you felt tears prickle at your eyes. You brought your hands up to your face and swiped at your tears quickly, doing your best to regain control.
Seeing you up close – how your jaw never relaxed, how you couldn’t sit still, the way you dragged the nail of your index finger down the side of your thumbs, seemingly unaware of the angry red lines you left behind – his heart broke.
“Come ‘ere,” he said, pulling you towards him.
Feeling his strong arms wrap themselves around you brought your tears to the surface in an instant. Before either of you could process what was happening, you were sobbing freely into his broad chest, hands grabbing at him desperately for comfort.
You cried for what felt like forever, raw and ragged sobs shaking you to your core. But no matter how deeply you surrendered into your panic, Geralt never wavered. He rocked you slowly, stroking your back softly. Every now and then he’d murmur words of encouragement into your hair and, despite all odds, you found that the low rumble of his voice comforted you greatly.
After some time, your sobs turned into whimpers, and your whimpers into choppy breaths. All the while, Geralt never released his hold on you. Only when he felt your heartrate return to normal did he lessen his grip and pull back to look down at you, smoothing back your hair.
“What –”
“I’m –”
You both laughed awkwardly into the sudden silence and waited for the other to go on. After a beat, Geralt tried again.
“Please –”
“Geralt –” you interrupted once more, shaking your head at the cyclical turn your conversation had taken.
“Y/N, you go.” He said softly, still drawing loopy shapes onto your back with his fingers.
“Oh Gods,” you breathed shakily, “I’m so, so sorry.”
“No, no,” he shushed, placing gentle kisses along your temple, “Y/N you have no reason to be apologizing.”
“Geralt, look at me!? I’m a mess,” you blurt, “and I’ve scared Jaskier.”
“Jaskier,” he replied with a small smile, “is a fool. He’ll be fine.”
“That might be worse! He’ll never let me live this down.” You say, your head in your hands. Geralt laughed softly at this, and gave your back a few comforting pats before holding you tightly and pulling you closer to him.
“If he dares,” he murmured in mock seriousness, his smile giving him away, “then I will kill him.”
“Geralt! Then who would write all those songs about you?” you said, turning back and smacking him playfully on his chest.
“Preferably no one,” he answered, face soft with laughter while his eyes remained trained on you, watching closely to ensure you were doing okay.
“Oh, you’d miss it, you big vanity.” You laughed, swiping at the last of the tears on your face and moving to stand up.
“Y/N… wait,” he said, reaching for your wrist and gently pulling you back down. “Are you… alright?”
“I’m fine,” you said, settling back down at his side, “Truly, I’m fine.”
Geralt let out a low, ‘hm’, in response, and looked at you dubiously, still acutely aware of your heightened heartrate.
“Okay, fine,” you admit, accepting that you couldn’t lie to him about this, “but I will be.” When he didn’t look convinced, you placed your hands on his arms and gave him what you hoped was a convincing look. “I promise, Geralt. I’m okay.”
He clenched his jaw tightly and breathe a sigh through his nose before speaking again.
“You didn’t just scare Jaskier tonight,” he said, slowly and with care, “you scared me too.”
You quickly cast your eyes downward, feeling shame prickle harshly at your chest. Geralt saw you bring the nails of your index finger to your thumb, ready to start your rhythmic stabbing once more, and hastily brought your shaky hands into his.
“Don’t punish yourself like this,” he whispered, rubbing his rough thumb over the tops of your fingers, “just talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say, honestly,” you said, refusing to bring your eyes up to his. “I can normally manage by myself, I don’t,” you stopped to take a steadying breath, and Geralt responded in kind by holding your hands a little tighter, “I don’t know what was different this time. I’m… I’m -”
“Only human?”
“Gross,” you said, pulling one of your hands free so you could wipe your face, “and unfair.”
“Maybe so, but Y/N, I’m serious,” he said, putting his hands gently under your chin to bring your eyes up to his, “if you ever feel like you’re losing control again, you can come to me.”
“Yeah?” you asked, your voice small.
“Always.” He said, pulling your face towards him so he could lay another gentle kiss onto your forehead. “No matter what.”
At this, you allowed yourself to melt into his arms once more, letting his slow, steady, heartbeats soothe you as he continued to draw shapes on your back. 
282 notes · View notes
mypoisonedvine · 4 years
Text
Hunt (dark!Slayer!Bucky x vampire!Reader)
a.k.a. Bucky the Vampire Slayer
a.a.k.a. Bucky the Vampire Layer
full credit for this idea goes to @deceitfuldevout​ who shared her genius with us for the concept of witch/witch-hunter, which morphed over time into vampire/vampire-hunter, which I eventually adapted into a weird amalgam of a Buffy AU and a Supernatural AU
@giorno-plays-piano​ asked to be tagged if I ever did it!
Warnings: smut, blood play (just a lil tho, but lots of talking about blood bc she’s...literally a vampire), degradation kink, sex that turns dub con/non con, kidnapping
(we are sadly deprived of any gifs of Bucky in the new jacket but please know the pic below is the Bucky we’re working with here)
Tumblr media
Bucky clenched his jaw in frustration as his head fell back against the headrest.  His grip on the steering wheel tightened with a squeaking noise as his skin skidded along the leather.
He was irritated because he knew what was waiting for him at the end of this road.  The headlights only illuminated a little of what was ahead, but the predictive power of past experience told him everything he needed to know.
You were going to be waiting for him, and he never looked forward to that.
Memories resurfaced of the last time he had seen you.  He’d found you in the forest and though he couldn’t prove it, he was pretty sure he’d interrupted you feeding on a deer.  It was disgusting.  Yet, you moved with this grace he couldn’t ignore and spoke with a smile that he couldn’t forget.  You greeted him with a familiarity that he wished wasn’t merited.  He was a Slayer, you were a vampire; there shouldn’t ever be a second meeting.  He should’ve killed you the first time, however many months ago it was.  He couldn’t even remember why he didn’t, but you slipped away that night and he swore to track you down.
He did, but he didn’t kill you that time either, because you’d proven useful.  You’d sold out a vampire who pissed you off and Bucky got to put another kill under his belt.  That was definitely the only reason he’d left you alive.  
Then the forest.  You were more feral that time, and he saw more of your monstrous side than he had before.  So why was that the time he thought about when he tossed and turned at night, when he was too pent up from years of solitude, when he forced his eyes shut and slipped his hand into his boxers under the sheets--
Destination is on the right, the GPS alerted with a robotic voice.  Thank god.
Bucky pulled the car into the driveway of the dilapidated mansion, shifting into park and turning off the engine; the metal blasting from the radio halted unceremoniously.  
He didn’t hear the commotion inside the house until he was quite a ways from the car and halfway to the door.  Of course he considered that it was a bad idea to just walk in the front door of a suspected vampire coven as a Slayer, but he wasn’t here on a hunt.  At least, not the normal kind.
Before he was even on the porch, the door opened with an outpouring of pink light.  He shielded his face with his arm as his eyes adjusted, but put it down when he saw it was your silhouette in the doorway.
“Slayer,” you hissed with a smile that blended pleasure and disgust.  He knew the feeling.
“You could call me Bucky,” he offered.
“It doesn’t suit you,” you explained, leaning against the splintered wood of the frame.  “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”
“Neither was I,” he admitted with a shrug, “but how could I resist a chance to jump into the lion’s den?”
“You’re here to take on a coven?  By yourself?” you laughed.
“I’m not looking for a fight,” he denied.  “I’m looking for information.”
You raised a brow as if to say go ahead.
“A girl in the city,” he continued.  “Mysterious death.  Coroner is stumped, thinks it could be anything from an animal attack to a blood disorder to a ritualistic murder.  Has your name all over it.”
“‘Girl’?” you repeated, as if you’d never heard the word before.  “Girl, no, I don’t remember any girl.”
“White, blonde, 5’2”, 26 years old,” he listed.
“Oh!” you stopped him.  “26!  You mean a woman.  Yes, I remember feeding on a woman.”
“So you’re confessing?” 
“To what crime?  She was going to die in less than a year, easily,” you shrugged.  “She did have a blood disorder.  Leukemia.  She didn’t know it yet.”
“And do I want to know how you knew it?” he shuddered.
“It’s a unique taste,” you grinned.  He felt a little unwell hearing you say that.
“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with human law,” he frowned, “but it’s still murder even if they were going to die soon.  It’s murder if they were actively dying.”
“I was human once,” you deflected.
“In 1447,” he growled.  You would’ve blushed if you could; you were flattered that he remembered.
“Yeah, murder investigation at that time was… very surface-level,” you admitted.  “Is your plan to arrest me, then?”
“I’m a Slayer.  Not a cop.”
“What you are is a wet blanket,” you grimaced.  “We’re busy in here, you know.  Big party.”
“I was hoping so,” he smirked.  “That’s what you promised.”
“Then why don’t you come in?” you asked coyly.  You hadn’t really expected him to do it.
Everyone inside jumped and scurried away the second he set foot in the door.  “It’s cool,” you told them, “he’s with me.”
That didn’t seem to comfort them that much, because what business would you have with a Slayer?
They must have figured it out when you slipped away to a secluded room and dragged him along with you.  He didn’t seem to figure it out until you were pushing him back against the wall, running your hands over his body through his clothes. 
“What I would give to feed on you,” you whispered, running your lips over his neck.  You took in a deep breath and felt a little light-headed at the overwhelming smell of his blood.  He, unfortunately, reeked of Slayer, and you pushed back your instinct of fear to appreciate the man underneath.  AB positive-- your favorite.  “Wanted you ever since I first saw you,” you admitted.  “You looked so fucking delicious.”
You pulled back to look up at him and you didn’t need vampiric hearing to know that his heart was racing: just the way his eyes darted across your face and down to your lips was proof enough.
“Why did you come here today, Bucky?” you asked quietly. 
“I’m on a hunt,” he answered in a low growl.
“For me?”
“For you.”
“You have me alone,” you noticed.  “You could get out your wooden stake and end this for good.”
He nodded, but didn’t move.  Instead you felt his hands trail along your sides; he jumped when he brushed the skin of your arm.  “You’re so cold,” he realized.
Meanwhile you thought you could burn up from the heat of him, radiating out of his body and through the thick layers of clothing.  He was so alive, so awake, so present.  
You pushed off his leather jacket and he didn’t even think to stop you, letting it fall to the floor.  You never cared for it.  He looked as good as sin in it, yes, but it smelled of death and dead things, the skin of something you wouldn’t have eaten when it was alive 40 years ago, and you wanted only to experience the life of this particular being.
And what is life but wanting?  Fuck, you wanted him so goddamn bad.
He wrapped a hand around your neck and pulled you into him, kissing you with instant need and dizzying aggression.
Even now you weren’t sure if he would let you live to see the end of the night.  But you couldn’t see the sunrise anyway, so what difference would it make?
He made embarrassingly quick work of your dress, tearing it straight down the front.  Downside of wearing something you’d had for nearly 100 years is that it’s flimsy.
His hands were back on you the second your skin was exposed.  His touch was so hot that it almost hurt; his hands were so rough and strong that your heart almost clenched.
You clawed at his shirt and gasped with delight when you accidentally nicked him with a sharp fingernail and broke the skin.  The flavor hit the air hard and fast; you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward so you could lean down and lick the thin red stripe you’d left on his chest.  Just a taste, but the best taste you’d had in… you couldn’t remember anything tasting this good.
“I won’t kill you if you don’t kill me,” he offered breathlessly.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you agreed quickly as you began to work open his belt because the last thing on your mind right now was survival.
You groaned when you felt his cock in your hand.  There was a lot of blood in that thing and you could feel it pulsing in your palm.  You knew better than to put it in your mouth; you didn’t have the restraint for that.  
You were thankful you hadn’t drank any more of his blood because clearly he had a better use for it.  It was so big you wondered how he hadn’t passed out from it getting so hard because seriously, this man’s cock was a monster; takes one to know one, eh?
“Fuck me,” you demanded, “I want you to fuck me, oh my god.”
He nodded as a low groan echoed out of his chest.  His grip moved to your hips as he pulled you up and put you on the table, pushing you down and bending over you with another bruising kiss that trailed down your body.
“Don’t fucking tease me,” you whined, “I need your cock.”
“Wait,” he instructed, kneeling before you and licking through your exposed folds.  You gasped, unprepared for how strange it would feel; your hand grabbed his hair and pulled harder than you meant to, but thankfully, he didn’t slow down.
Little moans and grunts were lost against your skin as he tasted you eagerly.  You were so overwhelmed with the sensation that he had to hold your hips down to keep you from squirming away.  You’d been feasting on humans for 600 years, and now it seemed like he was attempting to even the score.  Even you never ate with this enthusiasm.  But you’d never thought about a meal so much before consuming it as he had thought about you before this moment.  
You were already embarrassingly close to orgasm, and it was apparent from the way you moaned and writhed and begged.
“I’m so fucking close, just like that, please don’t stop, yes, yes, oh fuck, yes,” you yelped.
It all came to a screeching halt as he stood up and grabbed your face with his hand.  You looked at him with wide eyes, confused but still appreciating how good he looked with wet lips and dark eyes and his hair all fucked up.
“You aren’t gonna come,” he explained between raspy breaths, “until I’m inside you.”
You nodded in agreement, again arching your back as if you could will him to fuck you.
He slid his cock through your folds, coating himself in your arousal which was embarrassingly plentiful.
Finally, he pressed his cock into you all at once and you gasped, head falling back against the wooden table.  He groaned as he gripped your hips, steadying you so he could piston into you with brutal force.  
And to think you thought he was going to stab you through the chest with a wooden stake.  To be fair, he still could.  
He scooped you into his arms, pulling you up until your face was right against his.  “You’re warm here,” he informed you with bared teeth, “did you know that?  So hot and tight around my fuckin’ cock.”
You could only moan, your eyes darting to his parted lips, and then his neck.  You were thoroughly tempted, but didn’t want to do anything that might stop him from fucking you so perfectly like this.  His hand came up to wrap around your throat-- the metal one, specifically.  You were pretty sure he’d lost the arm to a monster fight of some kind but that didn’t matter now.  All you knew was that this one was strong enough to crush you and it was making your head dizzy and your pussy wet.
Your moans were lost to his grip as he choked you, and you could hear the ragged sounds of his breathing as he fucked you deeper and harder.  “You like getting fucked by a Slayer, huh?  You’re such a whore.  My whore.”
You gasped when he released your throat and you could breathe again.  “Yes,” you agreed with a sob, “yours, baby.” 
He chuckled a little at that, slipping a hand between your bodies to rub your clit with his thumb; you yelped and grabbed his shoulders tightly.
“You’re gonna come already aren’t you?” he mocked.  “Dumb fucking slut.”
You hissed at his harsh words but you were too lost in pleasure to complain.  Your eyes shot open when you felt two of his fingers slam into your open mouth and hit the back of your throat.  “Choke on my fingers while you come, bitch,” he growled.  “And I swear if you fucking bite me, you’ll regret it.”
It was like asking you to take a sip of sweet wine but not swallow it.  His skin tasted fucking delicious on your tongue, which you swirled around the digits eagerly.  He laughed: “such a fucking slut, sucking on my fingers like that.  You want it so bad.”
You nodded breathlessly, whimpering as you took his fingertips down your throat.  He groaned and slammed into you harder, which only served to bring you that much closer to the edge.  
“Come on my cock, right now,” he demanded, and you liked to believe it was just lucky timing and not his command that struck you at that moment.  Your nails dug into his shoulders as you felt yourself flexing and clenching around his length, another gush of arousal easing his way as he relentlessly pounded you.
“Good girl,” he praised, pulling his fingers from your throat to hear you pant with exhaustion.  He stopped to lift your legs onto his shoulders, pushing you back but leaning over you.  When he slammed into you again that time, you nearly screamed-- he was hitting something so deep in you that it was actually painful.
“Stop, it’s-- it’s too deep,” you moaned.
You tried to move back but he held you down firmly, a dark glimmer in his eye.  He thrust in again, even harder, and you cried out as you tried to grab onto the table for dear life.  He grabbed your wrists with each hand and pinned them beside you, laughing as you tried to fight him off.  
Any normal human you could overpower in an instant.  But you were no match for a Slayer.  Both of you knew that.  
“Let me go,” you begged, “you’re hurting me.”
“I could do a lot worse to you if I wanted.  You should be thankful I’ve let you live.”
“I could say the same,” you snarled.  He pulled back and rammed his cock into you so hard that you instantly screamed, tears sliding down your temple.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” he ordered.  “Just be a good little whore and take my cock.”
He started to move inside you, hard and fast, and you couldn’t help but struggle against him as he hovered above you.  
“Apologize,” he demanded, and just as he sensed you were about to tell him to fuck off, he accentuated it by holding his hips to yours a little longer than normal, reminding you that he could hurt you so easily if you didn’t obey.
“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, “I’m sorry, Bucky, please don’t… please don’t hurt me.”
He grinned as he watched you cry.  “This is what you fuckin’ get for teasing me.  You killed that girl to get my attention.  You wanted me to find you and fuck you the way you’ve been missin’ out on for the past few centuries.”
You shook your head to deny it but he suddenly let your arms go to slap you across the face.  You tried to use your free arm but in an instant he had your wrists pinned to your chest, putting all his weight on you until you could barely breathe.
“Just admit it, baby,” he said in an oddly sensitive way, like he was taking pity on you.  “Just admit you need me.”
“Please,” you sobbed, near-silent from the lack of air, “please…”
“Aw, look at you,” he cooed, “begging for more.”
He trapped your wrists under his left hand and used his right to roughly grab your jaw until your mouth was forced open.
“Show me your teeth, gorgeous,” he purred.  You hissed as your fangs glistened in the candlelight.  “Mmm, you wanna bite me, don’t you?”
You tried to nod but couldn’t move your face much.
“The feeling’s mutual,” he grinned.  “Fuck, I’m gonna come.  Gonna fill that tight little cunt.”
Your fight was renewed as you tried to kick and squirm away but it was useless.  You grunted as his thrusts became erratic but even more painful, somehow.
“Beg for it,” he growled through his teeth.  “Beg for my fuckin’ come.”
You tried to fight but only got another slap to the face, the sting making your eyes water instantly.  
“Beg, whore,” he repeated, yelling.  “I won’t come until I fucking hear it.”
“Please!” you yelped, and in a sense it was genuine, because once he came this would all be over, and maybe-- just maybe-- he would let his guard down long enough for you to feed on this evil son of a bitch.  “Please come, Bucky, come in me, I need it!” 
“Yeah, I know you do,” he laughed confidently, holding you down by your throat as he pumped into you one last time with a shattered moan.  “Fuck!” he sighed, savoring the feeling of your unwilling body forced to accept his seed.  The truth was, you were tighter when you struggled.
He only let you breathe once he was done, and you choked and spluttered for air as he pulled out.  The second you thought you had your bearings together, you were sitting up to lunge at him.  You felt something press against your chest and even before you looked down you knew it was over.
A wooden stake.  He’d had it the whole time.  You looked back at him and he was smiling, the bastard, even as he was still catching his breath from fucking you.  The sight made you shudder.
“I was gonna fuck you, and then kill you,” he admitted, “but now I think I’ll keep you.”
You hissed with a grimace, flashing your fangs, but knew you had no recourse, no options, no way out.
“You look so cute when you’re scared,” he smiled.  “Can’t wait to take you back to mine, trap you in a little salt pentagram, and fuck you senseless whenever I want.”
You whined, closing your eyes as you realized how well and truly fucked you were.  
“It won’t always hurt so bad.  You’ll get used to me.  And I’ll feed you enough to keep you alive.”
Sounded like a cruel existence, but you weren’t ready to get the business end of your stake, so you swallowed dryly and nodded in acceptance of your fate.  
He laughed and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek before guiding you to stand on weak knees.  “C’mon baby, let’s get you home.”
1K notes · View notes
dxmmymxmmywrites · 3 years
Text
Caught Your Fancy
Maito Gai x F! Reader Smut
Tumblr media
Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, unprotected sex, oral sex, pwp
There is not nearly enough Might Guy smut, so I’m here to fill the void! Personally I think this dude would absolutely fawn over a sassy lady, so this was a real treat to write.
Enjoy it ya filthy animals 🖤
...
It was leaner than your other leg, but it looked somewhat normal. You could move mostly on your own with some aid, which often came in the form of your staff. Despite having your dreams of following a nindo crushed, you still had dreams for your life you wanted to make a reality.
And there were many bumps in the road. You would trudge along during your day to day life, trying to be generous to the community while also building up your reputation as a creative. You dabbled in a bit of everything— writing, sculpture, painting— whatever could keep your hands and mind busy. It did wonders to stave off your boredom, and it gave you your own personal haven when the day was done. You could retreat inside yourself for rest.
It was where you were immersed now, sketching along in ink to quiet your mind. Your thoughts had been raging since earlier in the day, happy as it had been. Your hands seemed to move on their own as you doodle with an anatomy textbook open for reference. Some strokes collected into refined nudes, others were simplistic doodles of hands or feet or what have you.
Critters scuttling outside your window finally brought you out of your reverie. When they quieted down, you finally took in your last sketch that had taken up most of your parchment.
You’d drawn a man with strong features just from the image of him that constantly plagued your brain. His bright smile, his sweet dimples— that stupid bowl cut.
You scooted your supplies and paper to the side of your workbench so you had enough space to groan into your hands.
...
You’ve been companions for what seems like ages. Calling Gai a friend sounded odd due to the nature of your... everything, but it was the closest word you had to describe him.
He made you laugh, and you teased him. He walked you home when you ran into each other at markets, and you had stopped in on a practice or two to watch him with his genin.
Most of the time, he would attempt to woo you and you would play hard to get. Gai most likely enjoyed it— the thrill of the chase in the springtime of youth or whatever— but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it too.
Spending time with him on little adventures always left you giddy, feeling like you could actually run a mile without falling on your face. He would send an unapologetic but weirdly sincere compliment your way, and you wouldn’t show how it affected you until you were parting ways once more.
You’re expecting it to repeat as he walks with you to your home on the outskirts of the village now. You had managed to run into him when you’d run out for a last minute ingredient for your dinner. It was like he always managed to find you in a sour mood and make you feel at least a little bit better— you had been exhausted beforehand, but you were happily content listening to him describe his most recent training session with his students.
“—That reminds me!” He perks up like a puppy. “A friend of mine recently said you were once enrolled at the academy! You never told me you pursued ninjutsu!”
It wasn’t meant to be a harsh comment, but you felt yourself wince internally. Somehow, you felt more painfully aware of your leg than ever.
“Yeah... that was a long time ago. Yknow,” you tapped your limp foot with your staff. “Before this happened.”
The panic in Gai’s expression rises quickly, but fades just as suddenly. “I wouldn’t want it to hurt you— but if you ever have an interest in revisiting the basics, let me know!”
You laugh a bit. At least he was trying to make you feel better, pity from others could get tiring.
“You trying to make me one of your genin?” You playfully jabbed.
“Only if you’d like to! Though I wouldn’t mind a one-on-one practice. However you are most comfortable.”
His voice calms towards the end, to a casual but gentle tone you don’t often hear him use. Gai took you by surprise often as well.
And it really was touching. You never thought you could get back to how you were, or that you could ever be an adequate ninja. It didn’t stop you from yearning for it— something you had hinted to Gai before. He had paid attention.
It made a sort of heat rise to your face. Very few could get that reaction out of you, and Gai’s accomplished smile confirmed he knew just as much.
“It’s a kind offer... thanks.” You finally spoke as the two of you approached your humble abode.
His mouth opened to leap into a grandiose plan of action for your training— but you shifted to plant a kiss on his cheek and he stopped in his tracks.
“I’ll think about it, Gai.”
...
Since the time you had shared your vulnerabilities to him, Gai became even more of a common occurrence in your life.
He would nearly bust down your door at some ungodly hour of the morning and start making you a healthy, youthful breakfast. If he ran across a book you’d been dying to read, he would find you wherever to deliver it himself. And whenever you had some opportunities to work within the village, he would make a point to stop by and insist on you filling him in on your day.
It took you off guard. How could someone be so... purely good? How could he be such a bright light to you, and not want a thing in return?
You swore that even if you tried to run from him, he would always manage to get to you. Like running from a ray of sunshine at lunchtime.
So as he reached out to you more and more, you became more available. Parts of you that had been walled up for years came crumbling down with every act of kindness he gave you. Whatever he did, you practically melted for him. And it often scared the shit out of you.
But still, good things continued to happen. You made time to visit Gai and his team when you were invited to the training grounds. You dragged him by the ear to your home several times to feed him a purely indulgent meal, saying he couldn’t just eat superfoods for the rest of his life. You start writing down little poems that make you think of him, and go out of your way to stick them in his pockets when you think he doesn’t notice.
He does. He reads each one, marvels over your calligraphy, and keeps them tucked away in an old jumpsuit.
Around the time your poems became a habit, you start inviting Gai and the genin to your home for dinner every weekend. You come to know each of his students individually, and you grow to love each of them so much.
Lee marvels you with his spirit, and his willingness to scarf down whatever you cook is flattering. Tenten makes you laugh every time you see her with her quick wit, and Neji becomes intrigued with your interests in the arts, and admires whatever project you’ve attached yourself to at the moment.
You don’t catch him in the act, but Gai steals more looks at you in these calm moments with his students more than ever. There’s a moment when you poke fun at Neji with a genuine laugh that he feels his heart skip a beat.
How did he find such a beautiful, youthful spirit like yours? He never wants to let you go.
...
After you had really come out of your shell, you finally agreed to meet Gai for a private session on the sparring grounds. It made you a little nervous, but the excitement in your chest pushed you further and further until you were rushing out the door in whatever workout gear you could find.
You arrive a little early, willing to wait for him if need be. Yet as you approach the encirclement of combat dummies in the field, you can hear the familiar smacks of someone putting the dummies to good use.
The sun finally moves out of your eyes, and your greeted with the sight of an unabashedly shirtless Gai landing hit after hit with no margin for error.
It’s... a religious experience to watch him move. Sweat glistens over his battle hardened muscles with each punch, and you carefully watch a trail of sweat glide down the center of his abs down to the prominent “V” shape of his hipbones.
You try not to drool.
He notices your presence and turns to give you one of his glorious smiles.
“You made it! Glad to see it wasn’t too early for you.”
“I was... motivated,” you manage, watching him step closer to you.
If he noticed your bothered state, he didn’t pay it any mind.
“I have a plan to get you used to the movement of combat. You’re certainly in shape, you only need to learn to follow the flow of combat to start.”
It vaguely makes sense to you, but he takes your hand and leads you to a larger training pit void of combat dummies. You almost don’t want to let go of his hand, but then he lets go and begins to circle you.
“Throw a punch, or hit me with your staff. Let’s begin slowly, and then I can follow your movements.”
It’s nerve wracking, but you can feel the butterflies going insane within you. You slowly go to swing your staff at him, but he slowly counters you and explains his reasonings as he does so. With each movement you make, his process becomes more calculated— and he gives you enough time to consider his words and apply them to your next move.
Like a game of chess, you work in tandem and simultaneously against each other. To be so in sync with him becomes almost intoxicating, especially zoning into his voice and following the grace of his marble-like body. He becomes the epitome of temptation.
Was this his plan all along?
In your single moment to falter, he is able to catch you from behind with a strong arm held around your throat. Your eyes bulge. But your ovaries do a summersault.
“And because of this, you must stay grounded in combat. And not in your head.”
You can feel a shiver convulse throughout your body at his voice being so close, so hot and breathe against your skin. This time, he does notice— and goes stiff.
He goes to say your name, but you painfully grip his wrist and then shove him to the ground.
He jumps when the end of your staff stamps itself inches from his ear, but he feels himself reddening at how tightly your straddling his waist. And those eyes— they sear him to the bone.
“Are you having fun?”
Your words are loaded, coated with either honey or venom and he can’t tell which. Does he care for the difference?
“Are you feeling inspired by my lesson? Do you already feel yourself improving?” He manages that picturesque smile again, though it’s certainly strained.
You lean closer to him, and he gulps. Your stare never wavers.
“I think I could teach you a few things, Maito Gai.”
The deadly desire in your voice makes him feel like he’s floating but falling at the same time. What are your plans? What would you have him do to you?
What would you do... to him?
His determined grin grows, and you feel your heart rate quicken.
“I’m at your mercy.”
You can’t take it anymore. Your freehand shoots to grab the back of his neck and your lips crash against his. He frees his hands then, and they heatedly run up your sides and cup your back until he cups your face with the most tenderness possible.
His kiss, however, is not so tender. Your tongues passionately intertwine with a ferocity that riles the both of you up with each passing second. You moan deliciously into his mouth, and he seems to melt into you.
It leaves him open to you pulling the back of his hair so you can shove your tongue farther into his throat. He continued to groan such sexy noises into your kiss until you begin to fervently grind on his lap.
When you break for air, you slowly grind your core over the outline of his growing hard-on.
“A-ah! Oh, darling—“ he heatedly moans again, making you wetter than ever, and pulls you in for another kiss.
His grip on your pelvis tightens as he sits up, and with you perched on top of him, he takes advantage of your exposed neck. His flushed lips trail lovely open-mouthed kisses all over your pulse-point, and you feel yourself wrap your legs around him as hard as you can.
You grind continually onto him, and keen lowly when he sucks a hickie into your neck just as he times a roll of his hips expertly between your legs.
“Hooooly fuuuck, Gai,” you say as your head rolls back. “Can we do this?”
“Absolutely,” he groans into your neck, pulling at your back so your sweaty torsos rub together.
How did you get so lucky to find him? You look down at him, breathing heavily, into his equally lust-blown pupils. You cup his chin to give him one more passionate kiss, where you lick over his lips and revel in how weak he is for your touch.
And then, you knock him down into the ground with a thump to his chest. Leaning over him so he has a face full of your tits, you instruct.
“I’m gonna ride you. But first, I’m going to sit on your face and blow you into next week.”
The blush across his face is prominent, from the joyful mixture of heat and hormones. But he excitedly smiles.
“Yes ma’am...” he says contentedly, freeing his dick from his pants while you readjust to kick yours off.
In no time at all, you reverse and lean your ass onto his face. He enthusiastically grips your thighs, and pulls your underwear to the side to place a long stripe to your soaked cunt.
You inhaled, but then he quickly pulled you into him and plunged his tongue into your sopping pussy. You shriek.
“Oh fuck! Holy fuck, Gai!” You whine as he hums into your cunt, and you feel your legs quiver as your eyes roll into the back of your head.
Hearing you rendered so helpless on top of him spurred him on, and his grip tightens. You can’t submit to him just yet— no, you’ve been dreaming of this for too long to back down now.
You stretch forward as much as you can manage and encircle the head of his cock with your lips. At that moment you knew Kakashi was full of shit when he mentioned Gai had an acorn of a cock— he was clearly a grower, and fisting his girth made your mouth water.
You begin to bob your head on his length, and you feel his pace weaken. It spurs you on, and you try to open your mouth as far as you can to suck him with all your worth.
Gai continues to eat you out to his heart’s content, and you feel him shake as you drool over his immense cock. You feel your determination building again despite the tremors of pleasure overcoming you— and you take him to the back of your throat. You hum as you arch your back, and run your nails tightly down his muscular thighs to hold him in place.
He sputters against your cunt, and you hold his legs to the ground while you render him undone, swirling your tongue around every detail of his thick cock.
As he begins to tremor again, you take a hold of his cock and run the flat of your thumb over his head, teasing his slit.
“Are you ready for me?” You breathe onto his cock, and flatly lick the precum dribbling from his slit.
He exhales as you rise from his face, legs shaking. He leans onto his elbows for a moment, smiling as he wipes your juices from his mouth to lick off his fingers.
“I’m always ready! But especially for you, my love” Gai says in a deeper, more loving voice then you’ve ever heard him use before.
It makes you ache in the best possible way.
You jostle your weaker leg over his lap, and he puts a hand out to hold you as you adjust. Sitting down, you intentionally adjust the lips of your pussy to glide over his shaft, and slowly grind along his length as you kiss under his jaw. Gai moans deep in his chest, running his hands over your back, trying to ground himself through the pleasure.
“D-don’t tease,” he manages, and leans into your touch as you lick up his jugular.
His voice is a symphony to you, while he squirms under your touch. You know you’re both ready then— so you angle his cock to finally sink onto his length.
Both of your mouths open in ecstasy we you ease onto his length, marveling at how your wetness lets his girth take you. It takes a moment to adjust, but eventually you settle into his lap fully speared on his erection. The two of you are breathing heavily, and you’ve only just begun.
You settle your foreheads against the the other’s.
“When you’re ready,” he lightly comforts, and you nod.
You feel yourself grip him harder, and you use your legs to pull him closer to you. Your lips interlock once more, and you groan at the taste of your pussy on his tongue. It encourages you to sway your hips forward, while Gai slowly moves your ass to relish your pull.
You slide deliciously around his cock. The more he relishes in the moment, the more of a slave he becomes to the passion between you. Your bodies begin to move in a glorious rhythm, composing a beautiful dance while your gasps of pleasure begin to harmonize.
Gai takes the liberty to gentle buck into you, feeding off your pretty moans while he hits your g-spot repetitively.
You loving pull you name from his tongue, while you pant and try to see straight. You could get high off of how sweet his touches were— how deeply he looked into you.
“Ahh, fuck, Gai—“ you purr into his ear, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. “Harder!”
His quiet laugh is so deviant and sexy as he picks up his pace, to where he’s rutting into you with his balls slapping your skin. You can’t help but keep bouncing and bouncing on his merciless cock, thighs screaming, crying out as the noise of slapping flesh and wet squelching echos into the air.
“Take me, fucking take me!” You growl into his ear, clawing at his back to try to stay in place. “Ooooh, fucking ruin me Gai!”
“You have a filthy mouth, my love!” He exclaims, still fucking you like a damn race horse.
“And you like it, don’t you baby? You like me being a greedy for your cock?”
Your words run him through with so much shock and absolute list all at once. You punctuate the filthy whispers by biting down hard onto his shoulder— and he cries out as you set a brutal pace to milk the remainder of his stamina.
“AHHHhhh! Darling—! I’m— aAAAaag— closing in!”
You purr like a devil into his shoulder, liking the bruise you’ve left. You’re shaking like an addict, and I you know you’re close too.
“I’m gonna cum all over your cock, Green Beast! Cum for me, cum for your slut!” You pant out, and Gai nearly screams as he fucks into your pussy more furiously than ever.
In the heat of it all, you shove him to the ground again. You grab his chest and put all your weight onto him as you ride out your orgasm, moaning like a bitch in heat as you chase your highs to oblivion.
Gain holds your hips enough to mark them, forcing you down into his cock— but then he looks at you in all your glory on top of him. Sweating rivulets down your reddening skin, singing for him as you take his cock like it was made just for you. He pulls you we close as he can and lets out a strangled scream as he orgasms hard.
Tears stream down your face as you feel your pussy clamp down onto him afterwards, whining with glee we his cock throbs within you. You exhale hard, and you can feel your heart jump over the moon.
All before you collapse off of him, and lay down beside him in the grass. Both of you are dirty, exhausted, and covered in sweat— and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Somehow, you manage the strength to plant a kiss on his cheek.
“You’re amazing.”
He grins, surprised he has enough energy to laugh. “And you are the most beautiful creature to exist.”
You laugh through a blush, and snuggle into his strong arms as he pulls you into his chest.
“I think I should train you more often!”
213 notes · View notes
asunshinepuff · 3 years
Text
Secrets of the Darkened Seas
Tumblr media
🧜🏻‍♀️ Hello! Welcome to chapter eleven! Please please please give a like and follow to my co-author and best friend Luna ( @ladynightmare913 ) because this story would not be where it’s at without her help!
Just a small reminder that the next chapter will be posted on Luna’s blog!
The included lore for this tale has been written under the guise of Fantastic Nautical Creatures by Newt Scamander. As always it will be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose, while still having my own twist.
Here’s the link to the previous chapter, and if you’ve missed any chapters here’s the link to the masterlist of this story.
This chapter features two very important songs, but I won’t be linking them here. The key words are melodious and mermaid. If you want the ambiance and the most from your reading, trust me, click the links when you come across them. 🧜🏻‍♀️
.
Chapter 11: Stop Trying to Rescue Me!
The Dragon’s Pearl had been sailing for nearly three weeks now, Remus for once was a lot quieter than usual Sirius had to note. It was almost unnerving, it was as if he had turned into a completely different person. Sirius often found himself blinking, because he swore that Remus’ eyes glowed amber at times. But no one ever mentioned anything, so he decided to keep his observations to himself.
Remus gave Sirius a list, a bloody long list, of chores for Sirius to do that would last him four days.
“Your wrist,” Remus ordered.
Sirius stared at him skeptically, “What?”
Remus slowly blinked, as if it pained him to be in the idiotic presence that is Sirius Black. Instead of dignifying the pirate with an answer, he simply grabbed the pirate's left wrist, firmly clasping his hand and gripping his forearm with the other.
Sirius tried to free himself of his hold but to no avail. Rather, it seemed Remus was much stronger than he appears.
Dúi hǎi, well the gold snakelet part of him, slithered over from Remus' hand, and onto Sirius' arm, coiling around his wrist and becoming inanimate once more. Its emerald eyes gleaming at Sirius.
Sirius wanted to die right then and there.
If he wasn’t a prisoner on the ship before, he most certainly was one now. Remus only glared at the pirate, as if telling him, stop being dramatic.
“Behave.” That was all Remus said as he pointed to the snakelet before he walked below deck.
And that was the last Sirius saw of Remus in two days.
Two days of pure hell.
Sirius had, rather reluctantly, done his chores, but only because every time he attempted to forgo his tasks, the snakelet would animate to life and hiss at the pirate in warning. Captain Hua would smirk in amusement. First Mate Scamander nearly fell overboard as he laughed.
And Sirius suspected that if he even so much as stepped one foot off the ship, the snakelet would not hesitate to bite him. But after the last two incidents, the first being bitten by a metallic sword snake, and the second being a head attached to a mermaid, Sirius wasn’t so tempted to jump into the open ocean. Especially since he felt his hair on the nape of his neck stand on end, as if someone was watching him from beneath the waves.
Sirius had searched for the unusually quiet second mate of the ship, but to no avail. He did try to talk to Regulus, but the terrible head refused to let the pirate see the boy because Regulus didn’t want to see him. So, Sirius spent an unusual amount of time in the ship library. Sleeping.
And Sirius was in the library asleep when he awoke in the middle of the night to someone shaking him awake. And whispering his name. Sirius nearly fell off the chair.
“James?! What are you doing here?!” Sirius whispered loudly, rising to his feet.
“Rescuing you! What’s it look like!” The unruly-haired pirate grinned. “Now let’s go before someone catches us.”
“Wait James-” Sirius tried, but James was already dragging him out of the library, and onto the deck. There Sirius could see his ship, the Star Weaver, and Lily, Frank, Alice, Peter, Marlene, and Dorcas all waving them over.
James jumped onto the railing, grabbing a rope, Sirius dug his heels onto the deck.
“James, stop! I can’t leave the ship!”
“And why the bloody hell not?” James glanced around in the unexpected delay, an unceremonious splash silenced them.
They held their breath, staring at where they heard the source of the splash. After a few seconds, Sirius turned back to James and whispered.
“Because the second I take so much as a step off of this ship, I will die.” In emphasis, Sirius held up his left wrist, to show the very much awake and angry-looking snakelet that hissed at James.
James stared at it with very wide eyes and gulped. Sirius moved the snakelet down. “Do you want me to die, James?!”
“Just take it off!”
“I can’t! It’s enchanted! It’s alive or something!” Sirius winced, the snakelet coiling around his wrist tighter as it tried to strike James in the eye.
“What?!” James looked at the Snakelet. Terror on his face.
“Aww, you listened in class!” A familiar male voice interjects, “I’m so touched.”
Quinn stood at the deck, leaning against the base wall below the stern of the ship. He pushed off the wall nonchalantly, as he slowly walked towards the two pirates. “And the award for idiotic pirate of the year goes to…” Placing a hand upon the hilt of his sword, he leans forward, grinning madly. “None other than James Potter.”
Ropes snatched up the pirates one by one from the Star Weaver and tied them all up on the beam of the mast in the center of the ship.
“Congratulations. There is no prize.” Opal chuckles as she hops down from the cargo nets, pretending to wipe the dust from her hands.
All of the pirates glared at Captain Hua and First Mate Scamander. Sirius was spared from being tied up. Peter glared, or at least, he attempted to look like he was glaring, he mostly looked sick to his stomach.
“How come he doesn’t get tied up?”
“Because your Captain wasn’t actively trying to escape. This time.” Captain Hua answered smoothly.
Sirius’ crew could say what they wanted about the White Sea Serpent, but after spending nearly two weeks on The Dragon’s Pearl, Sirius knew the Captain was more than fair. And Sirius most definitely had been behaving.
Sirius almost preened at that. Someone like Captain Hua, The White Sea Serpent, acknowledged Sirius as a fellow Captain, even if it was to an inexperienced crew. Sirius hated it. He loathed it, because it was a feeling he wished he would feel if his own family acknowledged him, bothered to even look at him. He buried the feeling.
“How kind of you to join us, I don’t believe we had the chance to meet.” Captain Hua looked down to James and the rest of the crew.
“Though I suppose now isn’t the best time to exchange pleasantries.” Quinn commented, “A shame really.”
Lily, a bright red-haired young lady with bright green eyes glared silently at the older men. “If you’re going to kill us just get on with it.”
“Sweetie, you’d already be dead if we planned to kill you.” Opal cannot help but roll her eyes.
“Not to mention our Captain doesn’t kill children,” Quin added, looking over the young pirates. The pirate seethed in silent rage at the term. “When was the last time you even had a proper meal? And not just biscuits. You’re skinnier than a gull.”
“We are not children!” James retorted.
“Oh? You’re not?” Opal tilts her head. “How old are you?”
“17 summers.”
“Oh forgive me, 17 summers, practically grown men and women then,” Quinn responded sarcastically.
“If you are grown, then I see no reason as to why the captain shouldn’t kill you. After all, you trespassed onto his ship twice, and the first was a warning.” Opal crossed her arms.
Captain Hua remained as stoic as ever, simply watching the young pirates realize that they threw away the small mercy bestowed on them. Sirius couldn’t help but grimace.
The whispers of a singular melodious voice broke the eerie silence which had fallen upon the deck at the realization. Growing ever more vociferous in each passing second, the song reached the deck and the sailors who stood upon it. One by one, more voices began to accompany the harmony. Until there was no escape from the source. The deep blue waves seemed to carry the ship forward at the whims of the melody, as if being willed on command.
It was hypnotic, powerful— heavenly even, and yet something seemed entirely wrong.
Quinn doubled over, his hands clutching his head, an agonizing wail of pain fell from his lips.
“Quinn!” Opal quickly reached for him.
Sirius, James, Frank, and every man’s eyes on the ship, became cloudy as if in a daze. Opal looked across the deck, the women were unaffected by the sound. Opal’s eyes widened. She knew what this was. Captain Hua looked to the greek woman before they both ran off in different directions. Captain Hua went for his men, Opal released Lily, Alice, Marlene, and Dorcas.
“What are you-” Lily began to ask, but Opal interrupted her.
“Tie Sirius and everyone else up!” Opal ordered, rushing back to Quinn’s side, his wails grew louder each second he heard the song.
Captain Hua would stop each one of his men who attempted to fall overboard, knocking them unconscious.
“Why isn’t he being tied up?!” Alice shouted over the song.
“He’s unaffected! Just stop them if they try to remove the ropes.”
“Then what about him?!” Marlene, a blonde-haired young lady with bright green eyes, motioned to Quinn.
“He’s resisting it! To him, the song is a horrible screeching in his head, but to the others, it’s heavenly!” Opal yelled as she wrapped her arms around Quinn’s torso, keeping him from falling overboard as he tried to escape the noise.
The sound of snapping wood caught everyone’s attention, turning to look at the ship the pirates sailed on. The Sea Weaver was sinking. Fast.
“No!” Lily shouted, rushing to the railing. Captain Hua grabbed her by her waist. “Leave it! It’s beyond repair, there is nothing you can do!”
Lily tried to push the Captain off, “No! We can fight them off!”
“Those Sirens will kill you before you ever make it across.”
Lily only screamed in frustration, Min-Jun let her drop to the deck, rushing to the railing as he saw a clawed hand reach up. The Captain of the Dragon’s Pearl struck the climbing siren down. Opal, once certain that the wailing man wasn’t in danger of falling, began to do the same. Alice, Marlene, and Dorcas followed her lead.
Again, and again, and again the sirens climbed up the ship, and there was only so much rope to hold the sailors from their watery deaths.
“There’s too many! We have to abandon ship!” Dorcas, a young lady with chin-length dark hair and bright blue eyes, shouted.
“We’d sooner die out in open water!” Lily answered as she slashed another siren down, not without receiving a scratch on her forearm.
“Do they ever stop singing?!” Opal looked to Min-Jun, who was fighting off multiple sirens at once.
“No!” Min-Jun kicked one siren right in its face, pushing it back into the water, he looked back to Opal as she shielded Quinn. “They will only continue to sing louder until they start their feeding frenzy.”
“Feeding Frenzy?!” Alice screeched.
“Oh, how wonderful.” Opal sneered as she stabbed another siren, with pleasure.
“We just need to hold them off a little longer!” Min-Jun gritted out.
“For what?! For them to eat us alive!?” Alice yelled out.
The singing only grew louder until a new melody broke through the haunting melodious song and hissing with a single voice. Min-Jun visibly relaxed. “For that.”
A distance away, were two mers. One was a female with a white tail with faint blue spots, the other a male with an amber tail which complimented his glowing amber eyes. And they were quickly rushing to the ship.
“Oh great! More of them!” Lily sneered, looking back to the siren in front of her.
“Those aren’t sirens!” Opal smiled in relief.
“They’re mermaids.” Captain Hua finished.
“What’s the difference?!” Marlene demanded, grunting as her blade slashed another siren.
The female mermaid stopped a distance away from the ship.
“Watch.” Min-Jun stopped fighting the sea creatures off.
Opal knocked one last siren back into the sea, before she stopped fighting the rest off.
The mermaid floated on the surface of the water, and began to sing. The sirens’ song came to an abrupt halt, then hissed in the direction of the singing mermaid. Some sirens began to clutch their webbed ears, diving back into the water.
“They’re retreating,” Lily watched in awe, “But why?”
“A Siren’s voice is beautiful, yes, it puts men into a hypnotic trance. Their songs are used for hunting, and have malintent for those who are misfortunate enough to fall victim to it. A mermaid’s voice has different purposes for different things. And a single mermaid’s song is far more complex and superior than a whole pod of sirens singing.” The Captain explained.
The mermaid continued to sing, scaring off the few remaining sirens, then swam to the ship.
Opal caught Quinn before he could collapse, whispering for a moment in concern before helping him to the infirmary, his ears had traces of blood. Sirius was one of the first to break free of the siren’s spell.
Min-Jun left the young pirates to mourn their sunken ship. Sirius didn’t seem too sad to see it go. James, on the other hand, wasn’t taking it well.
“Now how are we going to get off this bloody ship?” James lamented.
Sirius sighed. “If you find a way, just go without me,” he holds up his wrist, “I’d really like to not have another near-death experience thank you.”
“I’m actually surprised you didn’t die,” Remus said from behind the pirates. His arms were crossed. “I was hoping you would.”
“And here I thought you’d actually prefer me alive to get your bracelet off of me.” Sirius held out his left hand. “Please, get it off.”
“Now what made you think that?” Remus tilted his head, then lowered his arms as he walked over to the pirate. “But, since you actually behaved, I’ll take him back.”
“You’re supposed to pry information off of me aren’t you? I’m no use to you as a corpse.” Sirius retorted. “Where have you been anyway?”
Remus decided not to answer, frankly not in the mood to argue.
He reached out and took hold of the pirate's left wrist once again, clasping his hand and gripping his forearm with the other. Dúi hǎi, slithered over from Sirius’ wrist hand, and back onto Remus’ hand. Coiling and becoming inanimate once more. Its emerald eyes gleaming in what might have been the equivalent of happiness.
“Funny, I didn't think you particularly cared.” Remus comments with a small smile, “I’ve been busy.”
James, Lily, Alice, Frank, Marlene, and Dorcas all stared at the moving snake.
“WHAT IS THAT THING?!” They shouted.
“It’s a Spirit Sword.” Sirius and Remus both said in exasperation.
.
Links:
Previous Chapter: Dúi Hai and Shou
Masterlist: Secrets of the Darkened Seas
Moodboards: SOTDS, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Quinn Sandoval
Fantastic Nautical Creatures: Entry 1
Tag List: (Let me know if you wish to be added!)
@whataboutmyfries
@sunflowerfox87
@spookypotato
@wonder-womans-ex
@waltzintherain
@madsholland
@fleetingpieces
@heyitssmiller
@moonofthenight
@peggyrose19
18 notes · View notes
virgojeons · 3 years
Text
true love (jjk)
Tumblr media
summary: you and jungkook spend your first christmas together. 
alternatively, a merry love story based on the lyrics of true love by ariana grande.
genre: fluff, humor, college au, established relationship, holiday series, jeon jungkook x reader
word count: 4.6k
warnings: cursing, implied sexual content, excessive use of pet names
wattpad version here, ao3 version here
a/n: well, here i am!! pls be gentle with me, this is the first time ive ever posted my writing on here and ive been debating it for months lmao. i truly truly hope u enjoy!!
Tumblr media
on the first day of christmas when you gave me all them kisses, boy you showed me things, come hold me please and never let me go.
Tumblr media
"Five days until Christmas and you're still decorating the tree?"
You yelped at the sudden sound of your boyfriend's voice, dropping your over-accessorized ornament and watching helplessly as it shattered against the floor.
Immediately, you whined. "Jungkook!"
Jungkook suppressed a grin at the furrow of your eyebrows and the pout of your lips, kicking his shoes off and tossing his coat onto the couch. He didn't mean to scare you, really. You even knew he was coming over. It's just that you left the front door unlocked (as you always did when he was on his way, despite him constantly scolding you for it) and there was no way you would've heard him come in over the sound of Jingle Bell Rock blaring through the house.
"Sorry, baby," He chuckled, bending down beside you to help pick up the remnants of your best ornament. "I didn't mean to scare you."
You glared at him in between collecting the shards of glass in your hand. "I spent hours making that."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Hot glue gun burns, sparkles stuck on my face and everything."
Jungkook took the pieces of glass from you with an amused look on his face, standing from his kneeling position to toss them in the trash can you had earlier moved to the living room for easy access. "I'm sorry. I'll make you another one."
"It's not the same." You sulked, finding fun in being stubborn and giving him a hard time. It was getting increasingly difficult though, with his rosy nose and ears and that little gleam in his eyes.
It was then that he made his first move of the night, tugging you by your oversized Rudolph sweater so quickly that you had to latch onto his shoulders for leverage with a squeal. His grin only seemed to grow once you were officially in his space, taking notice of your lack of pants and the snowflake stockings that appeared to be in their place instead.
"You don't look too sorry," You chuckled, heart stuttering at the way he was gazing down at you in such close proximity.
Jungkook shrugged, nudging his nose with yours. "I'm just happy."
They were such simple words, but it was the way he said them, the way he looked at you when he said them. You couldn’t lie, the excitement of spending your first Christmas together, completely alone, was incredibly infectious. It was gross and it was corny and everything else you swore you would never be, but you were in love with Jungkook. Devastatingly so. You from nine months ago probably wouldn’t even recognize the present you; a fact that friends, family, and even Jungkook alike loved to tease you about. Cracking the so-called ice queen was a feat to be celebrated, apparently. Whatever. He was yours and you were his so you didn’t quite care about the technicalities of it. Even if the story went a bit differently, in your opinion. 
Tumblr media
The brutal snow and temperatures of February were beginning to fade into spring when you met Jungkook. 
You and Jimin had been attempting to finish your economics homework together in your favorite coffee shop; a hidden treasure that was a ten minute walk from campus and ticked all your aesthetic boxes. You two were sipping from your respective hot drinks, neglecting your heaps of bookwork in favor of discussing the new season of Stranger Things. Jimin was deep into his theory of Hopper still being alive when his eyes flickered to the door at the sound of the bell, widening slightly in recognition before a bright smile took over his face.
"Jungkook!" Jimin called, waving whoever it was over.
You followed his gaze and turned your head in the direction of the entrance, growing curious when the boy walking towards your table wasn't familiar to you. It took you less than five seconds to realize that the boy in question was attractive. 
Like, extremely attractive. The kind of attractive that should not be subjected to the way you look right now. 
It took you even less time to whip your head back around, glaring at Jimin with wide eyes and a panicked expression.
He met your glare with a confused scrunch of his eyebrows before it slowly transformed into a smirk, quickly catching on to what your pointed look was for. The night before had been a late one. You, like any other normal millennial, had impulse bought a pretty yellow Nintendo Switch solely for the new Animal Crossing game. As soon as it arrived on your doorstep you were retreating into your room, tearing the package open with squeals of excitement.
Maybe you completely lost track of time and played until your eyes were bloodshot and you heard birds chirping outside. Maybe you got an astounding two hours of sleep. And maybe you had fallen asleep without setting an alarm and woke up thirty minutes later than usual. 
The details were insignificant though, because you were throwing on a pair of leggings and the first sweatshirt you saw, brushing your hair and your teeth, and hastily sprinting to your car all in record time.
No sleep. No makeup. No breakfast. And worst of all, no coffee.
And so, it was blatantly clear you had no desire to let a boy that beautiful even glance at you in that state, let alone introduce himself. But it didn't look like you had a choice in the matter, because moments later he was towering over your table with a stupidly handsome smile.
Jungkook grinned, reaching out to do that Weird Bro Handshake with Jimin. "Hey, Chim."
You were already plotting various methods of painful revenge in your head.
"Hey, Kook. What are you doing here?"
"I kind of work here," He chuckled. "Well, as of like, yesterday. Today's my first day."
"Oh, so this is the new job you were telling me about," Jimin nodded in realization, then his eyes flickered mischievously to yours. You’re rapidly shaking your head. "You know, this is my friend ___'s favorite coffee spot."
A scowl immediately takes over your face, only to be wiped off and replaced by a sickeningly sweet smile when Jungkook turns his head to look your way. The instant your eyes meet his you quite literally want to melt into the floor. 
Jungkook smiles at you. Like, really smiles. "Hey, that's cool. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other then, right?"
Across the table, Jimin snorts, which only adds to the way your cheeks are absolutely flaming. You send a harsh kick to Jimin's leg as inconspicuously as you can, all while batting your eyelashes at Jungkook.
"Uh, yeah! We probably... will."
Jungkook looks positively amused, but if he notices Jimin rushing to clutch his leg, he doesn't say anything.
"Sweet," He grins again. There's a brief few seconds where you two are just gazing at each other, stupid and shy, until Jimin loudly clears his throat. "Right, well, I should probably go clock in. Let's chill sometime this week, Chim."
"Sure thing." Jimin sings, smugness plastered all over his face.
Jungkook waves, already backing away from the table with his eyes on you. "Nice meeting you."
You feel yourself flush again and you absolutely hate it. "Nice meeting you too."
With a final smile, Jungkook disappears behind the employee doors. The moment he leaves your eyes are screwed shut and you're slamming your head against the table. The silence speaks for itself. You don't even need to see Jimin's face to know that he's either smirking or stifling his laughter.
"Don't." You warn.
"You just blushed," He says anyway. "Like, four times."
"I most definitely did not blush."
"You did. You still are."
"I'm embarrassed!" You wail. "That's literally the only reason why. I look like I got ran over and dragged for three blocks."
"Jungkook sure doesn't seem to think so," Jimin hums, snickering as he sips his coffee.
"Stop."
"He likes you." He insists.
"He was just being polite." You defend.
"That is literally my childhood best friend. I think I would know."
This makes you pause. Then you sigh. "He doesn't even know me."
He doesn’t disagree. But then again, "Not yet."
"Stop trying to play matchmaker, Jimin. He said five words to me," You spoke firmly, exasperated as you downed the final sip of your latte. "Plus, I'm just focusing on me and my degree right now. No distractions."
Jimin knew that you were already worn out, and even though he was mostly joking around, he wouldn’t want to push you any further. He’d drop it.
"Fine. We'll see who's right in the end, though."
For now.
"I will dump that hot coffee over your head."
As it turns out, Jimin was kind of right.
It takes a grand total of four visits to your favorite coffee shop before Jungkook asks you out. The first time you were by yourself, nose buried in a book as Jungkook was clocking in. He wasn't able to speak to you until about an hour later, when the morning rush had passed and you had finally lifted your head from whatever was in that book. 
You were honestly dreading facing him again, but you were prepared and actually presentable this time. Also you were kind of starving. And so, you hesitantly approached the counter. Jungkook took your order, both of you all fidgeting hands and sheepish smiles. You mentally patted yourself on the back when you spoke without any real mess-ups, and prayed that the cool girl aura you always tried so desperately to maintain was being transmitted. 
Not like you were trying to leave a lasting impression, or anything.
He hand delivered you your coffee and muffin with a beaming grin, all while his new boss glared at him from behind the counter. He didn't have to know that you knew cashiers weren't supposed to serve the food.
The second visit was a few days after. You were with Jimin again, shooting down every jab he made about you only wearing a pretty dress because you knew you would be coming here. Jungkook joined you both during his break. As soon as he untied his apron and sat himself directly across from you, it struck. You knew you were screwed. You just couldn't stop staring at him. The chin in the palm of your hands and sparkles in your eyes type of staring. You would be much more ashamed if you couldn’t see the way he was staring right back. Jimin found this hilarious, of course, and would subtly find ways to connect you two in conversation. You weren't sure if you loved or hated him for it.
It was that visit that Jungkook insisted on sharing his slice of strawberry cake with you, claiming he wasn't that hungry. The both of you were embarrassed, whacking his arm and dismissing him as Jimin complained about being the third wheel. By the end of his break, Jungkook was positively smitten, you were begrudgingly infatuated, and Jimin was awfully smug. He reluctantly said bye to you both, and you were slouching forward with your head in your hands the moment he disappeared from visibility.
Jimin looked extremely pleased. "Believe me now?"
"Focusing on school," You protested. It was a weak one, but. Well.
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" He mused.
And suddenly, you were frantic. Panicking. This was definitely not a part of the plan.
Quickly packing up your things, you groaned loudly. "You. Maybe me. Or both. I can't think in this place anymore."
"You'll be all over each other by next week."
"Shh!" You were childishly covering your ears and speed-walking out of the café.
Try as you might, you couldn't help yourself and returned the very next day after all your classes had finished. Jungkook was already there when you walked in, taking a customer's order but doing a double take and flashing you a smile when you appeared in his line of sight. This visit consisted of nothing but pretending.
Pretending to be studying. Pretending you weren't listening to him take orders just to hear his voice. Pretending you weren't sneaking glances at him. Pretending that the way your eyes kept meeting wasn't making your skin prickle. And you were just fine pretending, until suddenly he was in the seat across from with you his apron off and a steaming hot chocolate in hand. You tried your hardest to remain indifferent, you really did. But then he was pushing the beverage towards you with gentle eyes and his smile hopeful, telling you it was his treat because he noticed how hard you were studying. And then you were melting right along with the marshmallows in that mug.
The two of you talked about your majors, your families, your favorite shows, even Jimin. You asked about his tattoos and he explained them with ease. You also may have pulled out one of the oldest tricks in the book at the sight of his knuckle tattoos, gasping in feigned wonder when you pulled his hand against yours to measure the size difference. 
His hand could swallow yours whole and still have some leftover, you discovered. It was a very rewarding experiment.
You made each other laugh and blush down to the very last second of his break. Scarily enough, being in each other's presence was so annoyingly addictive that you found yourself hesitant to watch him leave. You could tell Jungkook felt the same by the way he dragged out his goodbyes. I work again on Thursday, maybe I'll see you then? Your fingers brushed as he softly took the mug from you. It was really fun talking to you. You were biting your lip to keep from smiling embarrassingly big. You look really pretty today, by the way. And then he was off.
You made a strangled noise the second you were outside with your fingers frantically beginning to type a message to Jimin.
promise not to say i told you so :///
Jungkook asked you out on your fourth visit. As soon as you approached the counter, he just blurted it out. As if it was something he couldn't hold on his tongue any longer. You couldn't hear yourself say yes over your brain malfunctioning and the powerful thumping of your heart, but you knew you did. His heartbreakingly gorgeous grin told you so.
On his break, Jungkook brought you a latte with a heart carved in the cream. You just couldn't conceal the coo that escaped you, which quickly resulted in his cheeks reddening. 
Cute, you thought. 
He quizzed you on your personality and the type of activities you liked to do, admitting that he would use the information to conjure up the best date you would ever go on. Six days later, Jungkook stayed true to his word. Not only was it the best date you had ever been on, but you were completely certain it would ruin any other dates for you moving forward, unless they were with him. Much to your annoyance and also utter delight, you were so sure of Jeon Jungkook and your brief but striking time together that you kissed him. Right on the swings of your favorite childhood playground, first date rules tossed aside.
He was so caught off guard that his eyes expanded to twice their normal size and your teeth banged together. You drew back, slightly mortified and ready to jump to your death from the tallest slide on the playground, but Jungkook was huffing a laugh onto your lips and grabbing your face like it was nothing. Then you two got it just right, and something clicked. The earth fell off its axis and you were rendered breathless and all that nauseating cliché shit you chastised as a myth. And from that day forward, you two were completely, tooth-rottingly, inseparable.
Tumblr media
"Easy," Jungkook proclaimed, pecking your lips. "We finished the tree."
He set you back on the floor gently, releasing a dramatic breath of air as if lifting you to place the star on top of the tree had actually winded him. As if he wasn't a muscle pig. You rolled your eyes and told him as much.
"Don't be a baby, muscle pig," You shoved at his bicep, only proving your point further when he didn't move an inch. ‘And I finished the tree.”
Instead, he caught the hand that you nudged him with and pulled your back to his chest, caging you between his arms. "Muscle pig, huh? That's what you think of me, baby?"
You flushed at the teasing lilt in his voice, suddenly very eager to escape his hold. But try as you might, he just wouldn't budge. A loud laugh left your throat as you flailed in his grasp, his muscled arms bulging in the turtleneck you bought him for his birthday a few months ago. Suddenly, you decided that you would be returning it for your own personal peace.
A high pitched whine left your mouth, one that lost all its seriousness once it was drowned out by your giggles. "Jungkook, let go of me!"
You would just not stop wiggling, and Jungkook could not stop laughing. He could live the rest of his life like this, his brain pauses to think. He's so happy.
And when you're thrashing so violently that your heel kicks his pocket with a force that has an object clattering onto the floor, Jungkook has never reacted faster in his life. Instantly your imprisonment is gone, and Jungkook is on your floor in a flash. Your eyebrows draw together at the sight of him scrambling for whatever it is, and all you're able to see is a sleek black case before he's quickly stuffing it back in his pocket.
You're eyeing him when he rises back on his feet. "Feel like sharing?"
Jungkook whistles noncommittally. "Not particularly, no."
There's a drawn-out beat of silence where you're just gazing at each other, neither one of you backing down. And then you're crossing your arms, and he's looking at your nose and your forehead and anywhere but your eyes, and then you're arching an eyebrow. He looks at you and breaks. Defeat.
"It's your present," He lets out a heavy sigh. "Well, the main one anyway."
You positively squeal. "Ooh! Can I see? Please?"
"Baby, it's the 20th."
"Can I have a hint?"
Jungkook blinks. "No, you cannot have a hint."
You're instantly pouting, but Jungkook expects that, because he knows you better than anyone else. Which is why he knows that you're a little spoiled, with a bit of a bratty streak, with just a dash of calculated charm that you use to your advantage to get just about anything you want. He's never seen it as a bad thing. In fact, he finds it cute. A little hot, too, if he's being truthful.
Anyway, he came prepared. Just as you're opening your mouth to no doubt make him spill the surprise, he's hushing you with a bruising kiss to your lips. The kind of kiss that makes you go pliant against him, the kind that makes you make a little noise in the back of your throat. The kind you've been waiting for all night. 
It’s the trick that never truly runs its course. 
And Jungkook is melting, too. Melting, turning to mush at your very feet, until you're moving backwards and clutching at his shoulders, ready to push him onto the couch.
"Mmm," He's humming against you, before he reluctantly draws back. He lets you chase his lips once, twice, before he chuckles lowly. "Hold on, angel."
You're suddenly feeling warm all over after his kisses, wanting nothing more than to cuddle into him into the couch and feel him next to you. Or maybe above you. With that chain you always tugged on dangling in your face. You really weren't picky.
You watched Jungkook break away from you and rummage through his bag with a frown and a newfound heat at the pit of your belly. "It can't wait?"
Like he said, he knows you, which means he knew kisses alone wouldn’t be able to satiate you nor get you to stop asking questions for the entire week. No matter how mind-numbing they may be.
"One second," He promised, and you definitely counted at least five, but he quickly found what he was looking for all the same. "I brought a surprise. Well, two surprises."
He was holding both of his hands behind his back with this stupid grin on his face. You squinted for a few seconds, suspicious, before breathing out a laugh. "Are you ever gonna show me?"
Jungkook looked way too happy with himself.
"The most important surprise is mistletoe, obviously. Gonna have to find a way to glue it on to the ceiling above your bed." And there was that mischievous little smile that told you he had every intention of carrying that out.
You folded your arms over your body and scoffed. Even if you were trying and failing to keep your lips from quirking up and possibly, maybe finding it a little harder to breathe all of a sudden. "You're unbelievable, Jeon."
He just winked and held up his other hand, pulling a gasp from your lips the second you realized what it was.
"The Polar Express!"
"I had to check like, four different stores in the mall to find it. That's why I got here a little late, by the way. But I thought we could make some hot chocolate like in the movie and watch it together and," Jungkook pauses to think, licking his lips. "There's a 'ride my train' joke in here somewhere but I don't know how to say it."
He's snorting at his own delivery before you are, and once your giggles permeate the air he's invading your space again with a lovesick smile.
"You are the sweetest boy," You praise, holding his pretty face with both hands and peppering small kisses all over it the way he secretly likes. "But you make me sick to my stomach sometimes."
If anything, this makes him smile even wider. "I love you too, baby."
Tumblr media
You and Jungkook are in complete darkness besides the light coming from the TV in your room playing Polar Express. His head is on your shoulder with his arm strewn across your waist, and his entire leg slotted between yours. He's soft. He smells like the lavender body soap you keep in your shower. His gentle breaths hit your neck every time he exhales and you're now cliché enough to believe that the heart underneath you beats in tandem with yours. 
Both of your stomachs are filled from the takeout he ordered for dinner and the peppermint hot chocolate you made while he was in the shower. You're still mentally replaying the moment he stepped back in your room, towel wrapped around his waist with droplets of water cascading down his body. His prominent abs and tattoos and wet hair had you scrambling to sit up, clearing your throat as you tasked yourself with handing him his mug. If he noticed you ogling him, he surely didn’t react to it.
Made us some cocoa, you said.
He brought the beverage to his nose and sniffed once, twice, before his entire face bunched up. Peppermint is nasty. Then he was gulping it down.
I thought it was nasty, you laughed in disbelief.
Nothing you make me can be nasty. Thank you, baby.
And now you’re thoroughly warm from the tips of your fingertips down to your toes, and you figure it has less to do with the cocoa and more with the way Jungkook so obviously loves you. The way you love him.
Feeling a tugging at your shirt, you look down to see him peering up at you with a dazed twinkle in his eye. "You're not hot in this?"
You purse your lips and pause, knowing what was coming. "No. Are you?"
He has the decency to look a little clueless. He was always doing that, in a playfully childish way you grew to love.
"Actually, yeah I am," Jungkook furrows his brows, like it was something he was just now realizing. And then he's sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head, and you're instantly staring at his back and remembering the way it feels to rake your fingers up and down it, and he's turning back to you with a lazy smirk. "You don't wanna take yours off, angel?"
You swallow. "I'm okay."
Jungkook starts to laugh, that cocky laugh that is equal parts douchebag-ish and sexy. He's most definitely turning you on and he most definitely knows this, which is why you're glaring at him until he reaches over you and picks up the mistletoe from your bedside desk. He dangles it over your heads, makes sure to wriggle his eyebrows suggestively when he does it, and you want to laugh, you really do. You would probably roll your eyes and call him a nerd too while you were at it, if it weren't for the way he was changing his position and starting to lean over you. Crowding your space in your favorite way. 
Jungkook hears your breathing pick up once you're directly under him, watches the way your lips part and your eyes change for him, and decides to go for the kill.
Nothing about the kiss was soft or gentle. Jungkook clearly had a point to prove and knew how he wanted to do it. The dangling mistletoe was soon forgotten in favor of holding your face by your chin, landing with a chime on your wooden floors. He worked your mouth open in that sloppy, messy, dirty way he only exhibited when he was feeling particularly desperate. Saliva pooled at the corners of your mouth and you were trembling underneath him, clutching at the warm skin of his back. It was nasty, absolutely obscene the way his tongue was in your mouth like his life depended on it. And you loved it. You couldn't stop making these little sounds, and Jungkook was groaning into your mouth right along with you. You were seconds away from pleading for him to do anything he wanted, to make you his, when he's abruptly pulling from you with a wet pop and a string of saliva between you.
Your ragged breaths fill the air, both of your chests heaving as you take a second to attempt to drag yourself out of the haze he's built around you two.
The asshole has the audacity to laugh. "Hot yet?"
"You don't have to bring out the mistletoe to kiss me, you know." You eventually say instead.
"I know," He pants, still smiling like the all-consuming beauty he is. "But you love Christmas. And it's our first. Wanna do it right."
You feel the need to close your eyes, let his words sink in, and so you do. You let the statement blanket over you until you're positively beaming, and when you open your eyes, he is the same. You are so irreversibly in love and you think he might be perfect. You tell him as much.
"You're perfect," You say, all soft and starry eyed. You're nodding when he starts shaking his head, and when the tips of his ears begin to turn red and he's putting his head down, you're giggling and putting both hands on either side of his head to get his eyes back on yours. "I love you a lot."
Jungkook is so happy. "Love you most."
And then he's leaning down again. This kiss is much less frantic, more steady, but still passionate and still with Jungkook, which means it fills your body with heat all the same. Your head is floating and you're squirming under his hold again when you break apart for air.
There's no point in trying to resist him anymore. You never can.
"I'm gonna take my sweater off now."
Jungkook scrunches his nose, and grins. "Okay."
Tumblr media
read part two here!
95 notes · View notes
oxygenforthewicked · 3 years
Text
The Promise - Chapter 4: Reality
Rating: Mature Pairing: M!Solavellan CW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Tags: Soulmate AU
Read on AO3
When he had closed the rift beneath the Breach, Saeris had blacked out. They brought him back to Haven and it took several days for the shock of everything to wear off. They had named him the Herald of some god he didn’t know, and inducted him into an organization that he didn’t care about. But he didn’t have a choice. Returning to the clan would put them in danger – and he didn’t know if he could face his father.
Dead. Taelan and Lana were both dead, and he hadn’t stopped it from happening. Saeris held his head in his hands as he sat on his bed in the cabin they had assigned to him in Haven. He partly blamed himself. If he hadn’t gone into the temple alone, if he had only brought them with him, maybe they would still be alive.
He shouldn’t have let them go off on their own.
The days blurred together as the Inquisition established itself, reaching out to all the potential allies they could find so they could find a way to close the Breach. Saeris, as their religious figurehead, was sent on missions to help the people affected by the rifts and meet with said allies. Why they had chosen him to go on their behalf was beyond him.
Mages, templars, shemlen priests… he knew he was in over his head. But it was a welcome distraction, however trivial it felt. He was completely baffled at how many people viewed the threat of the Breach as a political issue – especially since it meant he would need to attempt to navigate the politics of it all as well.
He was a fighter, a hunter – not a politician. That much had been obvious after his failed attempt at convincing anyone of anything when they had gone to Val Royeaux. When he returned, they had already arranged plans for him to meet with other allies, a choice that he vehemently disagreed with.
“It is a necessary evil,” Josephine told him during the war meeting after he’d returned from meeting with the clerics. “We need the strength of allies if we are ever to close the Breach. An alliance with the templars would be quite beneficial.”
Her brown eyes were kind, and he could hear the sympathy in her voice. He hated it. The sympathy from others only reminded him of what had been lost, and he didn’t need another reminder. His dreams did that well enough already.
“She is right,” Leliana said. “Lack of support from allies will leave us vulnerable and we will lack necessary resources to help our people.”
“Sending me won’t earn you any favors with allies,” Saeris replied. “Val Royeaux proved that.”
“As the Herald, you carry much more weight than any of the rest of us,” Josephine said. “Though many have denounced you as a heretic, you are a curiosity to many. That curiosity could be used to sway their opinion. With the help of some noble houses, we could help bring the Templar Order into the fold.”
Saeris shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like being a puppet for the shemlen, but he could understand the need for it. “Fine. Just tell me where to go and I’ll do it.”
Josephine assessed him for a moment. “Very good,” she said finally.
As he left the war council, he made his way back to his cabin that they had set him up in. He’d wanted to find a place to stay away from all the people, but Josephine insisted that to avoid potential assassination, he needed to stay within the walls of Haven.
He felt like a caged animal.
Saeris let himself into his cabin, the calm silence settling over him. But in that silence, he realized all at once that there was nothing left to distract him. He supposed he could sleep – but his dreams had gotten worse since the Breach opened. It felt like something was calling out to him, ready to drag him down that dark pit from his memories.
A knock came at the door, making him jump. He stared at the door for a moment, debating if he should just pretend that he wasn’t there. But he sighed and stood up, crossing the room and opening it.
Varric stood in the doorway. “Grumpy! We’re having a few drinks in the tavern. Want to join?”
“I’m not really in the mood,” he replied.
Varric looked sad. “Look, kid, I know you’ve been through hell – but it might do you some good to see people, have a drink, make conversation. Get your mind off of things. Just one drink?”
“Fine,” he said. One drink to satisfy the dwarf. He could manage that. Maybe.
“Great. Come on, I think they’ve already started breaking out the cards for Wicked Grace.”
Saeris followed him, shrinking beneath the gazes of all the people that passed them by as they crossed the village to the tavern.
He followed Varric to a larger table in the back, where several other people were sitting. Iron Bull, Sera, and a few of the Chargers were chatting when he and Varric approached. Their eyes all lifted up to him as he sat.
“Boss! Good to see you,” Bull said, clapping him on the back. He flinched, but didn’t say anything.
Varric pushed a tankard of ale in front of him and he took a long drink.
“So are we playing or what?” Sera said.
“You got somewhere better to be, Buttercup?” Varric smirked.
She snorted. “Probably. Only if we don’t start playing soon.”
Varric chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll deal.”
“No friggin’ way. You’re going to cheat again,” Sera said.
“I’m offended that you think I would need to cheat to win at this game,” Varric said.
The game went on for a while, Saeris barely paying attention as he lost hand after hand.
“You know, you’re supposed to at least try to bluff,” Iron Bull said to him. “Takes the fun out otherwise.”
Saeris’ jaw tightened, and he stood up, laying his cards down. “I think I’m done for the night. Thank you for the drink, Varric,” he said as he turned to leave the tavern, not bothering to listen to the protests of his companions. Perhaps trying to socialize was a bad idea.
Saeris slipped out of the main gate and pulled his hood up. He needed to get out for a bit, clear his head. The quiet snowfall around Haven wasn’t quite what he was used to, but it was better than the incessant chatter of conversation and endless noise.
He walked to a dry ledge overlooking the frozen lake and sat.
Nothing had really settled yet. It didn’t feel real. The worst part was, he hadn’t even written to his clan, yet. His father would be losing his mind, believing that all three of his children had died on that mountain.
Perhaps it would have been better if we did. Or if he’d sent them inside instead of him.
He rubbed his eyes. It was pointless to speculate.
“Do you mind if I join you?” a voice said beside him.
He looked up to see Solas standing above him. He pressed his lips together but nodded, motioning to the space beside him.
“It is quiet here,” Solas said as he sat down. “I enjoy coming here at night, as well.”
“You could almost forget about that thing in the sky,” Saeris said.
“Indeed,” the mage said. “How is your hand faring?”
Saeris shifted. “It’s fine.”
“Is it truly fine?” Solas tilted his head to the side.
He sighed. “It’s fine most of the time.”
Solas said nothing as he looked back up at the Breach.
“How do you think that thing was created?” Saeris asked. “I’ve never seen magic do something like that.”
“It is likely the mage responsible used some kind of magical artifact,” Solas replied. “Or, perhaps, there were several mages involved.”
A flash of eyes flickered in Saeris’s mind – a woman’s cry, the clatter of metal, a flash of light. He winced, rubbing his head.
“What is wrong?” Solas asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Sometimes I think I can remember what happened,” Saeris replied. “And then, nothing. Like it’s being pulled away from me. Then I get these headaches, and...” He stopped himself, realizing all at once that he was talking too much to someone who was no better than a stranger.
“May I?” Solas asked, lifting his hand to Saeris’s temple.
He looked over at the mage and nodded. His fingertips glowed with magic as he touched both sides of Saeris’s head. He closed his eyes as the cool magic dulled the pain from his growing headache. When it was gone, he looked up, and their eyes met. Saeris felt a strange sort of tingle running across his skin, and for a moment he swore he could feel – something. An emotion he couldn’t quite name curled around him: a mix of uncertainty, caution, grief… wonder? There was a strange sort of pregnant silence between them before Solas pulled back a little too quickly, and looked away.
Saeris almost wanted to ask if he’d felt it, too, but he pushed the thought away. It was probably all in his head - as most things were, these days. 
“When I was studying the mark after the creation of the Breach,” Solas said, “you woke for a moment. You asked me not to make you go back – to not let ‘them’ take you. Do you remember that?”
“No,” Saeris said. “I don’t know why I said that.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but not quite a lie. He did not know who the person he was afraid of was – but he knew that whoever they were, they haunted his dreams.
“Do you often have bad dreams?” Solas asked.
“Every now and then,” Saeris said. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
Solas looked away from him. “Very well. Regardless, if you ever have need of it, I can assist you with the headaches.”
“Ma serannas,” Saeris said quietly.
“It is no trouble,” Solas replied. “In any event, it is getting late. I should return… and you should as well. We leave early in the morning.”
Saeris huffed. “Ma nuvenin, hah’ren.”
Solas shot him an unamused look, earning a strange, small laugh from Saeris. The mage’s features softened, and he chuckled as well as he stood up and held out his hand. Saeris took it, and he started slightly as their skin touched. He didn’t look at Solas as they both returned to the gates of the village.
                                                        ***
Solas shut himself in his cabin and rubbed his face. He had not expected the one he’d dreamt about – his nas’falon – to not only be here, but to also be the one who had obtained the mark. He had been foolish to seek Saeris out alone, and even more foolish for reaching out with his aura. Saeris had recognized the change immediately, but likely wasn’t sure what to make of it.
It had surprised him when he could feel Saeris’ aura. It was so faint, so weak, but it was there. He was real – the one real thing in a world that was stagnant and gray in comparison to the world he knew. But even the reality of his existence would not be enough. It was dangerous to even entertain the notion of knowing his own nas’falon, no matter his curiosity. The world was an abomination, and he would not let it stand.
Yet he felt the fear of something inside Saeris. There was a threat he wouldn’t speak of, and Solas was determined to find answers. When Saeris had woken up in the dungeon with him after the formation of Breach, he’d felt a burst of panic and immense fear from him. Solas had wondered if perhaps the mark had amplified his aura in such a way that it was easier to read him, but after that, it was no stronger than a faint whisper. Normally, he would be able to seek out his memories in dreams, but finding him in his dreams had proven to be difficult. Some nights he could reach him without much effort, others it felt like there was a wall between them that he could not pierce no matter how hard he tried. He’d never encountered a mind that he could not penetrate as a Dreamer.
Whatever haunted Saeris was a mystery that needed to be solved, and it frustrated him that he did not have the ability to find out what it was. But he was not about to give up trying. Even if it meant giving in to his desire to know him. He would need to be careful, lest Saeris discover the truth. Not that he would understand.
No one in this world would ever understand.
11 notes · View notes
spellbound-banshee · 4 years
Text
She Laughs - Adam Sackler
Summary: Adam and you decide to indulge in some sexy times (your first time as a couple), and it’s different with him.
Warnings: fluff, smut (first one on tumblr!), general crackheadedness
Pairing: Adam Sackler (HBO Girls) x Reader
A/N: this is my first smut on here and i haven’t written one since the 8th grade so i might be a bit rusty, also it’s lighthearted so... i guess enjoy?
Tumblr media
“Sorry, did that hurt?” “Are you sure?” “Show me how you like to be touched.”  “Say it again.” “God I love your hands.” “You have no idea how much I want you right now.” “What do you mean not yet? You can’t expect me not to cum when you’re fucking me so good.” “Oh god, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?”
-
Adam had spontaneously called you as he was spending another day alone at his apartment. He’d been attempting to learn how to use his phone just so he could talk to you every day, and he finally realized that he was tired of being alone. 
So here you were, on a normal Tuesday sitting on his couch as you searched his fridge for anything good to eat. He’ll never admit that he looked at your ass every time you bent down to get something at the bottom. “Man, you’re really healthy.” You teased as you pulled out two apples and threw one in his direction. He fumbled a bit to catch it but still managed to watch the way your body moved as you sat down.
You hadn’t had sex as a couple yet. You’d only been dating for a couple weeks and he definitely respected your request to take it slow, anything to be with you. Even after a couple of weeks, he swore he was falling for you. You smiled at him with a tiny nose scrunch and he felt his heart flutter a bit, the apple completely forgotten as he just wanted to ravish you.
You bit into the apple and a bit of juice escaped from the area of the bite, so you swiped your finger along the bottom and licked it off your finger - quite innocently. He groaned playfully, slamming his head back against the end of the couch and smiling. “What?” You teased, shoving his shoulder a bit as you took another bite of the apple.
“Oh god,” He groaned again and picked his head up to look you up and down, “how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?” You nearly choked on your apple at this kind of talk, swallowing and finding yourself blushing at the compliment. You saw his eyes widen at the comment, “sorry, was that too forward?”
You couldn’t help yourself, you put the apple on the couch and launched at him to kiss him. He gasped slightly at the sudden action but nonetheless let his lips mold to yours, his wandering hands brushing against your waist. Feeling bold, you picked your leg up and straddled his lap, inching further towards him as you could feel him tense up. “Sorry.” You suddenly said, pulling away.
“God, don’t be.” He replied, placing gentle hands on your waist to steady you. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.” Your initial shock surprised him more than you - how could he not want you? He thought about you every day, he practically worshipped the ground you walked, and you were surprised that he wanted to ravish every inch of your body?
“I... uh...” He thought you were going to reject him, that you were going to say you wanted to take it slow and things would be awkward from now on. All of the worst case scenarios flooded his head, until he heard you say those magical words. “Yeah... me too, actually.” You chuckled nervously, running your fingers through your hair while one hand remained on his shoulder.
“Are you sure?” He asked sweetly, both of his hands coming up to cup your face, and you couldn’t help but kiss his palms.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” You nodded, taking a deep breath. It’s not like you were a virgin, but your ex was an asshole when it came to sex - he was pressuring and demanding, and never gave any time to you. You really liked Adam, he didn’t deserve your sexual baggage, but now you were ready to let go.
“Fuck yes.” You heard him whisper, and you didn’t have time to giggle as he kissed you with a new hunger. He pulled you closer by your face and held you there, as if he never wanted to let you go, and you responded by wrapping your arms around his neck.
He found an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, and your soft moan caused a flash of heat in his stomach. Suddenly he was desperate, wanting to hold you close and clawing at your shirt like a rabid animal. You pulled his hair accidentally as you tried to grab his face, but from the groan he let out you could tell he didn’t not like it. All of the feelings you’d both held inside for each other came spilling out, and neither of you were in control of your bodies.
Suddenly, he grabbed the bottom of your thighs and lifted you up like you were paper, causing you to squeal into his mouth. The brief separation just made him more desperate as he tried to navigate his apartment still connected to your lips. As he finally found the bedroom - out of habit - he threw you onto his bed, causing you to make a noise that resembled a bit of pain.
“Fuck!” He quickly ran over to kneel by your side, “sorry, did that hurt?” The worry in his voice was quickly replaced by relief as he heard your muffled giggles.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You waved him off, covering your mouth a bit as you continued to giggle. He laughed a bit with you, softly crawling onto the bed and leaning over you to kiss you. Your giggled subsided as you kissed him back, running your nails down his back - feeling bold once again, you nibbled on his lower lip and pulled his out a bit while you were kissing. 
“Fuck.” He growled, pulling away and leaning down to kiss your exposed shoulders, biting just a bit to leave some marks. “You’re so hot.” He whispered, making you blush once again. He felt himself wanting to lose control, to just pin you to the bed and fuck you into next Wednesday, but he wanted to take it slow with you at first. The fucking could wait.
“Can I... please take your shirt off?” His hands tugged desperately at the button of your loose t-shirt, begging for it to be removed.
“Since you asked so nicely.” You teased, and he giggled as he raised the shirt up and off your head. “The bra is a front clasp so...” You laughed once again as you saw his confused face, so you reached down with trembling fingers to undo the clasp.
As it fell off, you watched his expression of confusion melt into one of awe and adoration. “Holy shit.” He breathed, staring at your tits like they were the eighth wonder of the world, “you’re so... you’re so fucking breathtaking.”
The atmosphere in the room changed as he leaned down slowly to kiss you gently, his warm and calloused hands resting on your stomach. You could cry at how loved you felt in that moment, so gently held by such a strong man above you. God, you wanted to treat him right.
The mood shifted once again as his large hands came to fondle with your breasts, and you let out a gentle moan. He wanted to hear that moan again, he made it his life goal to make you moan his name until you couldn’t remember your own. You bit your lip as his thumbs circled your nipples, arching into his touch - it startled him how sensitive you were. “God I love your hands.” You moaned as he continued his work, the praise making his pace falter a bit.
“Say it again.” He growled, placing his head in between your breasts and kissing the cleavage. 
“I fucking love your hands.” You repeated, taking one of them off your chest and kissing the tips of his fingers. Your words caused him to moan a bit, and even though you heard it his pride would never admit it. He started to kiss down your body and started to fiddle with the hem of your sweatpants, silently asking for them to come off. “Please.” You nodded and he practically ripped them off, grabbing one of your thighs and kissing down your calves until he almost reached the promised land.
“Please don’t make me beg.” You whined and he chuckled, shaking his head against your stomach.
“But you’re so cute when you do.” He protested, causing you to giggle and reach down to take off your underwear.
“Just touch me, pretty boy.” You whispered, kicking the panties off your legs and noticing the way he stared at your pussy and moaned at the nickname. “You like being called pretty boy?” You asked, running your hand through his hair as he couldn’t take his eyes off your pussy.
“How are you even real?” He asked genuinely, looking up into your eyes and you couldn’t help but giggle at him, shoving his face away playfully. “Can I eat you out?” He asked, and you felt your face get hot at the question - you also felt your heart flutter, nobody had ever asked how you felt. The way you nodded made him laugh, but he quickly grabbed your thighs and spread you out for him. “Tell me how it feels.” He whispered, and before you could respond he dove right in.
His tongue instantly latched onto your clit, swirling his tongue around the nub a bit before taking the flat of his tongue and licking up your entire mound. “Fuck!” You moaned - you haven’t been eaten out in a very long time, and Adam took notice to how sensitive you were. He moaned gently around your clit, once again swirling his tongue around the nub and causing you to let out the same moan. He could feel the electricity shoot up and down his entire body at just the sound of you, he could only imagine what this pussy felt like. 
“Fuck, Adam!” You mewled, finding yourself grinding against his mouth, already feeling the coil tighten in your stomach. He moaned around you at the cry of his name, pulling you closed by your ass and suffocating himself on your skin. He could be buried in your pussy for days if his body would allow him. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” 
“Wasn’t planning on it.” He sarcastically mumbled as your hands came down to cart through his hair, messing it up and making it stick upwards. You seemed to like the vibrations against your clit, so he moaned again and he could feel your body tightening. Your moans became closer together and louder, your hands became fists in his hair and you pushed your mound against his mouth. With one final suck to your clit, you came gloriously on his mouth - your thighs closed around his head and he actually thought he would suffocate against you. What a way to die.
“Fuck...” You breathed when you finally came down from your amazing high, staring down at the flushed man below you. You bit your lip and ran your fingers through his hair to put it back into place, pulling him back up to your face to kiss you.
“You are... so, so beautiful.” He sighed against your cheek, kissing it gently and nibbling on your ear, causing you to giggle. “I like the way you laugh.” He smiled, kissing your ear and traveling to your jawline. “It takes the pressure off, I feel like I can be myself around you. It’s so freeing.” Once again, you felt so loved, being held in this context, knowing you both had this effect on each other. You wanted to say you loved him, but you didn’t want to scare him away - but he felt the same.
“I wanna touch you.” You whined, grabbing him by the shoulders and attempting to flip him over, but he was too heavy. He laughed and pushed his head against your stomach, loosening his stature and moving with you as you once again attempted to flip him over. You looked so beautiful on top of him, he could feel the urge under his belt get harder and harder to ignore. “Can I take your pants off?” You asked, and he just blushed from the innocent look you were giving him.
“Go crazy.” He teased, tucking a small strand of hair behind your ear just to adore your face for a second. His heart stopped when you smiled again, pulling his jeans down and he helped you kick them off his legs. He felt bad, this should be more about you - you told him about your asshole ex, so he should be giving you all the pleasure, not the other way around. “Kid, as much as I would love- oh, fuck, okay....”
He was about to protest, but knowing what was coming you started to kiss the bulge in his briefs. You knew he felt bad, but you wanted to give as much to him as he was giving to you, and you wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Can I suck you off?” You asked, and he laughed at the sheer brazenness of your words, but he didn’t protest or complain.
“Show me how you like to be touched.” You whispered as you took off his underwear, his dick instantly standing at attention above you. It was big and intimidating, the tip already red with veins decorating the shaft.
“Woahhhh...” He breathed, “that was crazy hot. You can’t do that.” He shook his head, whipping his hair out of his face a bit - and once again, you laughed that gorgeous laugh of yours. You kissed his thighs with the same amount of worship he did to yours, caressing his strong stomach and kissing up and down his chest. He whimpered before he could catch himself, and you bit your lip at the sound - you made it your life goal to hear that sound again.
“Do you want me to suck you off?” You teased, testing the boundaries and determining his preference in positioning, particularly dom-ing. 
“God, yes. Please.” He nodded, his pride hurting a bit for begging but he would do anything you wanted him to do, that’s the kind of power you held over him. He would walk into oncoming traffic for you, he would do anything you wanted and all you had to do was ask.
You started slow, licking up his entire shaft and stopping to suck at the tip for a few seconds. He seemed to like that, shaking a bit the further you got to the tip and the longer you sucked on it. “Fuck, keep doing that.” He encouraged, reaching a tentative hand down to push your hair out of your face. You appreciated the ability to see again and decided to work your way down his cock, taking as much into your throat as you could. He let out a whimper-y growl and threw his head back into the pillows, lifting his hips gently to get further into your mouth.
“God feels so good, kid.” You moaned around his dick, sucking up and down in slow motions to tease him a bit. He wasn’t being rough with you like he normally would, but he liked the freedom of having you take control and work at your own pace - it was sexy. He felt so close already, normally coming from a blowjob would take a little longer but with you below him, he couldn’t help himself. “Fuck, stop. I’m gonna cum.” You obliged and he let out a sigh of relief, but immediately found himself missing the warmth of contact.
He made teasing grabby hands at you, and you giggled while wiping your mouth, coming above him and kissing him sweetly. “You’re so beautiful, Adam.” You sighed, kissing down his chin and across his neck, deciding to leave a couple of marks there. He felt his face heat up at your words, placing a gentle hand in your hair and massaging your scalp as you worked.
“Can I ride you?” You asked sweetly, nibbling on his ear as you said the words.
“Fuck.” He groaned, covering his flushed face with his hands and laughing lightly against them. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Is that a yes?” You questioned, kissing his cheekbone and running your fingers through his long hair to get it out of his face. You noticed some beauty marks that spotted his skin, and you traced your thumb over them, connecting them with non-existent lines.
“That’s a fuck yes, whatever you want.” He nodded and leaned his body up a bit to kiss you on the lips, gently biting onto them and pulling it back. You moaned into his mouth and kissed him with hunger, that fire in your belly re-lighting. “Wait, do you have protection?”
“We don’t need it, I’m on the pill.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” He said genuinely, pressing his forehead against yours.
“I’m sure.” You whispered, crawling down his body and kissing his toned chest on the way down. You lifted your body above his, squeezing his already sensitive dick and lining it up with your entrance. He hissed and grabbed your hips as you started to move down on the tip, his head lulling back and his body already needing more. “Fuck, Adam.”
“Please...” You really had him wrapped around your finger if you had him begging for you like this. His mind was fuzzy with pleasure, his toes curled and his back arched into your pussy - he swore it felt like the first time. Not the mechanics of the first time, not messy or confusing or awkward - you were meant for each other, and he’d never felt pleasure like this before.
“God Adam, you’re so fucking sexy.” You grit out, attempting to adjust to his reasonably sized length; it wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable at first.
“Say it again.” He begged again, and you noticed this time that he actually liked to be praised, possibly because he was insecure but this wasn’t the time to get into that.
You leaned down and connected your forehead with his, the new pressure on his dick causing him to moan, biting his lip in anticipation. “You’re,” you kissed the top of his forehead, “so,” you kissed his cheek, “fucking,” you kissed him hard on the lips, fisting your hands in his hair and pulling him upwards to connect further. He groaned as you pulled away, whispering, “sexy,” against his mouth as you roughly bit his lip.
“Fuck me.” He breathed, grabbing both sides of your head and pulling you back into him for a searing kiss, pushing up into your hips as he couldn’t help himself. You both moaned from the contact, grinding back against his hips as you started to get a rhythm. “Fuck!” Adam groaned as you pulled back a bit to splay your hands over his chest, continuing to grind against his dick.
As you found what worked for you and found a set rhythm, your moans started to become more consistent and melodic. It was almost embarrassing how flushed Adam was becoming, his face and his chest were covered in splotchy red marks. “Shit, yeah.” You moaned and started to bounce on his dick, to which he moaned loudly and threw his head back, nearly hitting the headboard. “We’re gonna... get a noise complaint,” you moaned and put your hands by his thighs to grind against him better, “and it’s not going to be... because of me.” You teased him, throwing your head back and displaying your perfect tits for him to reach out and grab.
“Fuck... I wish I could come up with a good comeback... but you’re probably right.” He shot back, panting and trying his best to last longer, he was biting his lip so hard he was sure it would start bleeding. “Shit, I think I’m gonna cum soon...”
“Not yet, wait...” You begged, bouncing harder on his dick which didn’t help to slow down the process.
“What do you mean not yet?” He stared at you as if you had four heads, “you can’t expect me not to... cum when you’re... fucking me so, so good.” You laughed at his complaint, once again leaning down to kiss him on the lips. “Shit, can we switch real quick?”
“’Course.” You replied, still grinding on him to continue the motion, “whatever you want.”
He nodded, letting out another moan before grabbing your thighs and holding you close, flipping you around as to not lose the connection. You landed on your back with a bit of a squeal, and he lied his head against your stomach to laugh a bit. You ruffled his hair and he looked up at you with that sweet smile, nothing but love and adoration filling those honey brown eyes. “My god, you have no right being that damn cute.”
At the compliment, he started slowly moving against your walls again, and since you were already sensitive, your giggles morphed into moans. “You like the way I look?” He asked, his voice strained as he began to pick up the pace, resting on one elbow while his other hand found itself on your hand.
“Fuck, yes!” You replied, grinding back against him and sticking with his rhythm.
“Oh yeah, fuck me back.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against yours and biting his lip. “You really like me?” He asked, half to help you get closer and half to confirm that a goddess like you could actually like someone like him.
“Fuck, Adam!” You yelled as his hips started snapping against yours harder and harder, you couldn’t keep up with his pace. He wrapped your legs around his waist and you clung onto him for dear life, he could feel the scratches forming on his back and he couldn’t help but let out a carnal growl.
“Answer me.” He was sweating now, his moans becoming more frequent and closer together. He reached his other hand down to rub against your clit, and he could tell he was hitting a special spot inside of you from the way you were practically screaming. “Do you really like me?”
“Fuck, Adam. I love you!” You couldn’t comprehend the words coming out of your mouth since you were on another planet, but the words made his heart and his pace stutter. Your words set off something deep within him, and now he made it his only goal in life to made you cum, to make you feel otherworldly pleasure.
He was fucking you so good, the pleasure was starting to build up inside of you at such a rapid pace it almost burned. Your mouth was glued open and you couldn’t stop the flow of moans echoing from your mouth, your nails that dug into his back were sure to leave marks that would last a while. “Adam, don’t stop don’t fucking stop please please please.” The hand that was holding himself up reached up to grab your hand, pinning it above your head and holding it sweetly. “Make me cum, make me cum please, please.” You definitely didn’t have any control of what you were saying - and my God he would do anything to please you. He felt his body swell with pride, knowing he could make you feel this good.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.” He strained, his senses overloaded, surrounded by the godliness of you and this mind-blowing pleasure flooding his veins.
“Please, fuck, inside of me.” You nodded, wanting to kiss him but you were so close and you couldn’t stop your moans.
Just those three words sent him over the edge, pushing his dick deep inside of you as he came harder than he ever had before. The feeling of him still pumping and rubbing at your clit send you over the edge in a way you never experienced before, it felt different, and so much better than anything you’ve ever felt. Your moans mixed together in a somewhat off-kilter but gorgeous harmony, and it went on for a while. Even after the orgasms had subsided, you were both still whimpering, holding each other close and never wanting to let go.
He was shaking against you, wrapping his arms underneath your body and holding you impossibly closer against him. It took a few moments of sub-space bliss before your vision cleared and realized he was crying. “Hey...” You whispered, your voice still a bit shaky and raw, “what’s wrong?” You pulled his head from out of your shoulder, and his eyes were teary and red-rimmed, but he didn’t look sad. He was smiling slightly, not crying enough for tears to fall down his cheeks but enough to blur his vision a bit. You pushed his hair out of his face, trying to read him, and he could tell, so he leaned down to kiss you. Of course, you couldn’t resist kissing him back, but the concern still remained. “Adam... baby... what’s wrong?”
He smiled against your lips, “nothing’s wrong. I’m just moved.” That didn’t answer any concern you previously had and didn’t work to soothe your concern now. In fact, it left you more curious.
“Moved? Moved how?” He seemed to like your confusion, pressing his forehead against yours and nuzzling his nose against yours.
“I love you too.” He confessed, and your eyes briefly widened at the admission - you could tell he started to regret saying it from the way his eyes changed. You hadn’t realized you said that out loud in your haze of pleasure, and although it was something you actually felt for him, that probably wasn’t the best time for it to come out.
“Did I say that out loud?” You asked genuinely, and while he laughed lightly, it still sounded pained. He kissed your lips and looked down, guiding himself out of you with a soft groan, and shifting off the bed to move away.
“I really love you, kid. I know it’s... early or cheesy to say it or whatever, and it’s not just because of the sex, even though the sex was fucking...” He blew out a breath and scratched the back of his neck, causing you to giggle, tears beginning to fill your eyes. “Yeah... you don’t have to... say it back but I just wanted you to know that I mean it.” He gave you a smile, but inside he just really wanted you to say it back, even if it wasn’t true - just for the validation
Adam had always been insecure in a relationship when it came to mutual love, Hannah had fucked him up a bit and even though she was out of the picture, he still held that pain. He really loved you, and when he really loved someone, really felt that connection with someone, he was all in. With these thoughts in mind, the dread and insecurity began to set in, and you could see the sudden change in his face.
“Hey.” Your voice soothed, grabbing his wrist and stopping him carefully in his tracks, he could feel his heart skip a beat before he looked back down at you. His body pulled him towards you, like his brain didn’t have control and it was just you... all he could ever do or see or think about... was you.
“I do love you, by the way. I just didn’t want it to come out... then.” The joy that filled his heart caused his chest to swell at the confession, his mind immediately shaking off the insecurity that so easily plagued his mind.
But you weren’t satisfied, he still seemed to hold onto the pain, so you pulled him back down to the bed. You lifted your weak body up and planted a firm kiss on his lips, he moaned briefly at the surprise. “Adam Sackler.” You soothed, cupping his face with your small hand, your other coming to connect with his large one. “I’ve loved you since the moment you sat down in that restaurant, the moment you talked about your love of acting, the moment you opened up so we could communicate better, the moment I sat on your couch and we ate yoghurt in silence. Every moment with you, has made me love you so much more. Please, believe me when I say you are one of the best people I’ve ever met.”
He just shook his head and smiled, his mind immediately shaking off the insecurity. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, kid.” He was hiding his emotions a bit, truthfully he could start crying and lie in your arms all day and night, being reassured of your love over and over again.
“I like the way you call me kid.” You smiled, kissing the tip of his nose and he scrunched it a bit in response, pushing his forehead against yours until you were lying on the bed. “I’m trying to think of something for you, I’ll come up with it when I’m actually on Earth.”
He chuckled as he got up off the bed, kissing your hand and walking to the bathroom. You were going to protest, but you felt your body become heavier the longer he was gone, and you began to drift in and out of sleep. 
Suddenly, you were met with a warm sensation around your sensitive pussy, causing you to jerk backwards in surprise. “Sorry! Didn’t want to bother you.” He whispered, cleaning you and himself up, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.
“It’s okay, I should probably pee anyway.” You shrugged, hoisting yourself out of the bed and giving him a small kiss on the neck before walking to the bathroom.
“The bed’s getting cold.” He whined as you began to come back, washing your hands in the bathroom. You giggled at his neediness and dried your hands before walking back to the bedroom area. He smiled when you came in, and you swore you would never leave just by the adoration in his eyes when he saw you. You promised you’d marry him. And have his probably freakishly large children.
“Better?” You asked as you cuddled against his chest, kissing his collarbones and making your way back up to his face.
“Much.” He whispered, before sweetly kissing you on the lips. And you lied there in comfortable silence as the functions in your brain began to quiet, and your bodies became heavier with the weight of sleep.
And in that moment, he promised he would marry you.
-
391 notes · View notes
lvlyhao · 3 years
Text
「PART TWO: FEAR」
HUMANITY SERIES; Q.K
A/N: took me long enough to post, I know, but thank you to that last anon for reminding me of the series lol with school i tend to forget what i have and haven’t posted but i’ll do better from now on. i hope you like this :)
important: this chapter includes mentions of vomiting and though i’ve already put a warning for violence and gore in the masterlist, i’m saying it again: please don’t read this if you are not okay with that!!!!
word count: 2.1K
pairing: qian kun x reader
disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.
previous chapter || next chapter
*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:*✧・゚: *✧・゚:
“I’m heading out”, your hands fondly squeeze Taeyong’s shoulders from behind him. He does not look up from his task for a few seconds, counting rolls of gauze. Then, upon processing your words, he twirls to face you. His eyes trail up and down your figure, making a mental checklist of everything you need to be safe. Apparently, one thing is missing.
“Take Jaehyun with you”, he asks, “or maybe Yuta. Johnny is always good to have around, and so is Renjun. Those swords of his are no joke”, he rambles, losing focus. The way he places his hands on his hips and sighs tells you he’s absolutely drained. “Or maybe I should go with you—”
Shaking your head fervently, you pat his cheek for his attention, observing the streaks of noon sunlight across his face. He stares at you with concern and shifts his weight.
“You’re staying right here and so are the boys, Tyong. We haven’t found a survivor in weeks, and taking one of them is always more stressful than anything”, you reason. Recollections of how the boys attract trouble wherever they go cloud your mind, far too many to count. The air suddenly feels too chilly, with shivers running down your spine. 
“Just stay here and maybe find a way to rest. You know Doyoung won’t mind keeping track of the supply for you.”
At this point, he knows it’s no use arguing. 
“Just be careful… and get back before dawn”, he adjusts the collar of your jacket, thinking back to the weather outside of the grey walls of the dorms. “All I’m saying is you never know what you’re gonna find.” Giving you a tight-lipped smile and a nod, he resumes his job, and you leave him. Headed to the heavily locked iron doors guarded by the towering figures of Shotaro and Sungchan, you ask yourself if there was any hidden depth to Taeyong's words.
“You never know what you’re gonna find, huh", you mutter.
Now, roaming the deserted streets on your own and basking in the orange glow of the afternoon, you just think he was wrong. 
It’s already been a couple of hours since you left: you’ve explored parts of the district you barely even knew before the virus, seeing all kinds of animals scurrying around your path. You’ve also eaten the rice balls Jaemin packed for you, and you’ve gawked at the decaying building that used to be your favourite theatre. It’s all the same as you imagined it would be. Not many walkers litter this part of town—just 7 or 8 you managed to avoid—and no people. No one worth rescuing.
Wandering like this, in silence, brings back memories you're not sure you like. Weekly game nights with your friends, attending Jisung’s dance presentations, playing in the park’s playground at night... All of those feel foreign to you, parts of life too good to have ever been yours. Still, the need for a shot of wistfulness takes over, and you sigh. Better now than when it gets late, then. With a shake of your head, you pick a destination and start moving.
You’re conscious of your surroundings as you keep one hand on the bow and make your way across the square. Dry, fiery leaves crunch under your boots, being the only sound you pick up. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, either. The same old abandoned stores seem to look down at you, their busted windows moaning in the wind. But, right then, something jabs at your gut. It's a silent alert to a threat you can't see. 
Damnit. You better pick up the pace.
As soon as you make a turn to the left, spying the pizza place you used to visit, you freeze. Walkers, maybe 10 of them, whimper and try to get past the debris to reach something inside a pharmacy.
How could you not notice them earlier? They’re not a quiet horde, and the awful stench is not something you should have missed either. Have you been that lost in your nostalgia?
Whatever happened, you don't have much time. If the undead are making that much effort to get around the rubble, there has to be someone inside. A fellow human being—hopefully, a nice one. Someone you can help.
Acting out of instincts, you drink in your surroundings. Having your back hastily pressed against a tree trunk is not ideal, but it's what comes to you. While you can't call yourself a strategy master, jumping right into action is not the right plan when someone else's life is in danger. 
Mind racing, you know you need a better shooting spot now if you want to make a move. Drawing them out to an alley is not a totally bad idea either. They wouldn't be able to escape, and maybe then they could flee.
As soon as you found a perfect corner for that, the screech of old door hinges catches your attention. A second later, shattering glass.
Shit. They broke in.
With no more time to assess the situation, you quickly climb up a rotting picnic table. The zombies, some missing a limb, slowly drag their feet towards a man in a plaid, blue shirt. 
He's petrified, head lashing from side to side, looking for a way out. You know very well there is none, and soon enough it will be too late. He’ll be just at reach for those disgusting, putrid fingers. If they get a bite in, it's over for you, and it's over for him.
That’s when you take the stupidest decision of your life.
Screaming.
“YO, YOU POINTLESS MEAT SACK! WHY DON’T YOU LOOK OVER HERE?”
The boy might just get whiplash from how fast his eyes find yours. His are dark and desperate, but there is something else to them—to him. Something you will never find it in you to explain. 
It could have been the way the stares right at your soul, or how his face displays every emotion from relief to terror. You could even say it was how his knees buckled under his weight or his fluttering hair in the wind. You can blame your reaction on a lot of things, but none of them startles you as much as yourself. 
A cold hand grasps at your heart, squeezing it tightly in your chest. Blood drains from your face, and your frame shakes in the wind. You know this sensation all too well to have doubts, although it is what you swore never to feel again. Fear. Not for yourself, no, even when the undead start walking towards you instead. You don't—can't— care enough about your life, and you know it. It is all for him, the beautiful stranger you are going to save.
The first two arrows find their aim, speeding right through the undead’s skulls, but something shifts in your arms. The rest of your arrows now seem to swerve a bit to the sides, lodging themselves on necks or shoulders. In other words, not where they are supposed to. 
Oh, how much you hate that the walkers will only die if you damage their brains.
“Annoying bastards, I swear—”
Falling into a state of near panic, you drop to the floor unceremoniously and race to the horde. If your bow won't do the trick, your other weapons will.
Momentarily thankful for their lack of agility, you pull out the knives hidden on the sides of your shoes. In a flurry of drive, you slash and stab everything around you. While throwing some hand-to-hand-combat here and there, your eyes start to burn. The walkers smell even worse from up close, you bitterly recall from past encounters. It's one of the things that make fighting harder—the urge to run away from them at every second.
The more daring among them clutch at your clothes, keeping your movement limited, but you manage to cut off their hands. The slick sound it makes is enough to make bile rise up your throat, but you swallow it back.
“C’mon, Y/N”, you pant, kicking what had once been an adult woman in the chest to send her down to the asphalt. “You’ve had tougher battles than this." With a breath as deep as you can manage, your knife cuts at another zombie.
It is true, you know. It's impossible to count the times you’ve been up against groups of 20 or more. You were always fine. Right now, though, wincing from multiple wounds scattered around your skin, you question how the hell did you do it.
Hurriedly glancing to your right, you notice 5 are already dead—well, dead-er than they had previously been. The lady you kicked struggles to get up, giving you a gap to spin and bury your knife into her scalp. She goes limp right away, and you stare. 4 more to go.
Just as you retrieve your blade and turn to face the other walkers, something bites your dominant hand. Hard.
With your knife tumbling down in a metallic clunk, fire shoots up your arm. The first thing you do is wiggle your hand back and forth. Some part of you thinks it was going to let go like it’s some sort of dog. You realize you were wrong when darkened saliva flows into the cuts, your mind going blank with agony.
You figure it was one of the undead you had pushed down before, only to lose sight of him later. And, yes, wiggling was a poor attempt at getting him to drop you, but you did it out of pure alarm. Fear is gradually taking over you now, freezing cold and impossible to fight.
With only your non-dominant hand free, you sloppily sink your blade down however many times it takes for the corpse to stop moving. The pain you feel is sharp, travelling through your veins like blue fire. As his grip slackens, the body slumps to the ground, a wet thud echoing. Despite the agony that threatens to blind you, you're aware of the other 3 walkers you have yet to take down.
One is easy enough, with an arrow embedded deep on one side of her neck, and another coming down on her brow bone. Repugnance swirls in your gut, and you have to look away. Their skulls are incredibly soft.
Your remaining enemies pace at either side of you, circling you with dead eyes and faltering strides. You keep your wounded hand close to you while the other clutches the leather grip of your weapon. It's time to put an end to this.
Choosing to go for the right first, you slash at his chest, grimacing at the black blood that oozes. It taints his shredded red hoodie and sprinkles at your front. The shudders that course through you in silent rage give you the strength to finish it off.
In one clean, powerful strike, your knife goes through an eyeball, but he collapses a bit too fast. You can't recover your blade.
Having no weapons on your hands, even for a second, is critical. The walkers are borderline sluggish, but it was easy to lose track of them: your severed hand was proof.
To your relief—or mild disgust—, hasty strides bounce at the pavement behind you, followed by heavy thuds on a slimy surface. It takes no more than 3 seconds for the last body to tumble by your feet, face down. 
It's only then you see the skull, or better, what is left of it. Blood and brain flow over a gaping crack, done by something sharp. You could guess it was the heavy, black rock that you find before you, held in the hands of the man you are supposed to be saving.
From there, you realize his medium length hair is a faded blue, with dark brown at the roots. A grey university hoodie hugs his slim figure under the plaids, matching his cargo pants and busted sneakers. His face is all sharp angles and soft edges, but his gaze is nothing short of magnetic.
Wide, chocolate eyes glare at the body with such horror your own throat tightens. Then, with no words shared, he lets go of the rock and stumbles back like he cannot believe what he did. Your own eyes divert to the cloudless sky, hearing him vomiting on the concrete in a matter of seconds. Poor dude.
Pity, combined with the reminiscents of adrenaline and dread, settle in you. Your thoughts boil down to one small detail: the Sun is setting.
The throbbing on your hand momentarily vanishes, lost in the memory of Taeyong very clearly telling you to be back before dawn. Aside from that, the memory of what you did to get the walkers' attention still burns at your mind. That goddamned shout. Having a sense of hearing as acute as they did, you are sure any other zombies around you are coming your way.
You have fucked up big time.
-------
final notes: ik chapter one wasn’t all that exciting but i’m hoping this one is better wheeze two more to come, stay tuned <3
16 notes · View notes
Text
My OC Universe: Rowan 126
Chapter 126 Summary: William learns very quickly that Peter isn’t going to let him get away with talking as much as Rowan did. (Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)
Trigger Warnings: PTSD whumpee, reference to previous abuse, threats, violence
Rowan was asleep when Peter gently propped open the door and glanced in, he did as he promised and left a bowl by the wall, on top of a flat stone he had pulled from the fireplace that would make sure it hopefully wasn’t cold when he woke up.
He sat with his back against the dining table, facing the creature he swore to watch. Common sense told him the food wasn’t bad, but it felt like sediment crushing between his teeth and mud sliding down his throat. Even looking at William was an effort. Depictions of the King had always been regal and dignified, but looking at him now, he looked like a leper so diseased no one would even risk tossing him a coin.
William woke up before midnight, sadly Peter was beginning to nod off and the sound of a man grunting awake startled him out of any sleep he could have ever hoped to achieve. He watched as William’s head bobbed weakly, face obscured by tendrils of dirty and oily hair, he was waiting for proof that the captive was truly awake.
“Argh…fucking bitch,” The gravelly voice seemed to whisper in the large space of the room and Peter’s eyes narrowed at the clear anger towards Rowan.
“Your head hurt?” He spat. “You feeling a little sore after getting cracked in the skull?” William forced his gaze up and blinked a few times to clear them of the bleary film blocking Peter’s face from him. He certainly thought Rowan sounded weird when he spoke. But of course he recognised the stern face of the hunter that choked him unconscious and knocked him out soon after.
“Oh, fantastic,” He groaned. “You’re back so soon? And I thought Rowan and I could talk more.” He smirked at the furious reaction his comment earned and winced at the effort.
“If I had the stomach I’d torture you the same way you tortured him, but I only kill animals, I don’t abuse them.”
“Oh, how clever, I suppose I’m the animal?” William mocked. “That must be where Rowan got that eloquence from. He sounded like an idiot every time he spoke in my presence.”
“I’m not in the mood to listen to any more of your poison than I have to.” Peter scowled, shaking his head softly. “You keep making noise and I’ll gag you with an ember.”
“I thought you didn’t hurt animals.”
Peter pushed himself to his feet and stepped towards William menacingly, he was fully prepared to silence this creature so he didn’t find himself caught in a conversation again. As he loomed over William, the man realised how utterly defenceless he was and attempted to backpedal.
“All right, all right, I’m sorry.” He exclaimed and Peter stopped. The shadow of firelight flickered over his face as he glowered at William’s tightly bound form, he wanted to continue forward and hurt him but, he couldn’t now that the victim had conceded. Part of him hated how weak he was.
“The next unsolicited sound from your mouth will be the last you utter for a long time,” He promised roughly, turning around to sit down again. “And if you speak to Rowan again, I won’t hesitate to break your jaw.”
That was a threat Alexander had not thought to use against him, and the idea of his teeth cracking apart with the force of whatever blow that would be dealt to him thoroughly intimidated William. He knew the hunter would have an axe lying around somewhere, at the very least. There were no doubt many weapons that could fracture bone within the vicinity, even while waiting for Rowan to bring him water he noticed the cast iron pots and cooking utensils, that would do more than enough damage to him.
“I only asked for some water,” 
While he wouldn’t be quite as brazen as before, he still couldn’t help his attempt to defend himself.
“Then why was he in tears when I came home?” Peter snarled, turning on his heel. “I left him alone with you less than an hour and yet you still managed to upset him so much he managed to knock you unconscious!” He shook his head angrily and scrunched up his nose in distaste. “He’s so innocent he can’t even bear to watch me prepare one of my kills, he’s never killed an animal in his life, and yet you managed to enrage him enough to risk killing you. Don’t you dare try and play innocent with me. Because I don’t play well.” He sat down again in his space and glared at William, eyes flashing with hatred.
“Now not another word. Unless you’re ready to be silenced.”
~ The bedroom door creaked open slowly just after dawn and Rowan poked his head out to glance at the room before him. Peter’s head was balanced back on his shoulder as he slept, his hair tousled around his face and supporting his skull, it didn’t look comfortable, but Rowan was afraid of trying to help him and waking him up. He already felt bad enough for making Peter sleep against the dining table as it was, he didn’t want to risk upsetting him.
Olivia grumbling softly from her place on Rowan’s bed and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was all right. She had been really quiet during the night, it was almost as if she suppressed her pain for the sake of Rowan’s wellbeing. She knew that Rowan would get upset if she was in pain.
Rowan slowly shut the door again and rested against it, hugging the bowl of food he found left for him to his chest. It smelled really nice, even though it was beginning to turn cold so he picked up the spoon tucked into the potatoes at the bottom and lifted it to his mouth. He always liked Peter’s food, it wasn’t ever particularly flavoursome, but it was so much nicer than the delicate portions of high-class meals or scraps that the kitchen would begrudgingly give him at the castle.
He had never been one to dream of lavish lifestyles with feather beds and fine wines. Even with William that dream turned to a nightmare. When he was young all he wanted was his father to be kind to him, then when he was on the streets he wished for a safe place to sleep and food, when he was in Lord Borin’s manor he only wanted somewhere to hide, he never wanted anything with Peter, and when he was with the garrison, he just wanted freedom, in whatever form it took. But his entire life all he wanted for his future was somewhere safe to live and a full belly, didn’t matter if the house was small or the food was poor, just some form of consistent safety.
Thinking about how safe he felt now, even with William only one room away from him, Rowan shuddered gently and relaxed against the wall, clutching the bowl tightly. A whole new wave of gratitude swept over him like a gust of wind and he had to push down the needy desire to see Peter and thank him again.
Then the memory of asking for a hug the night before reminded him of the source of his newfound sense of security. He was ashamed that he asked for something like that, that he savoured the feeling of Peter holding him, that he kept mimicking the sensation of Peter’s lips on his skin. He really was a whore. It’s not been more than a few months, and already he’s forgotten how deceptive those touches can be, and already craving more of them. William was right, it doesn’t matter who, he’s always looking for these people to support him.  William, then Cordelia, and now Peter.
Stop it. Please, just stop it. William isn’t right, he’s a bully. Peter’s right, he’s a bully.
Rowan took a deep breath and put down the bowl to run his hands over his hair. He needed another bath, he was dirty. That thought only upset him in another way and he shook it from his skull.
When he managed to clear his head he realised how the ice from outside was creeping into his skin once more and quietly scrambled back into bed, curling up in the residual warmth that the quilts had retained. It was an entertaining thought to imagine William tied against the wall while Rowan was wrapped up in warmth with food and his companion. He wanted to see William be hurt, but he couldn’t bear to risk being caught in another trap.
It was going to be a very long week.
10 notes · View notes
voorheehees · 4 years
Text
the talisman
a little thing I wrote for my slasher oc :p 
The neon lights of the city looked almost muted behind the tinted windows. Red, green, gold, and pink letters spelled ‘Poker’, ‘Lobster Dinner’, ‘Live Nudes’, ‘Dead Nudes’, ‘Girls Girls Girls’. It was beautiful. Jonas watched the lively strip from his top floor suite, like a king watching over his peasants. The view from the top of The Talisman Hotel & Casino could not be beat, depending on who you asked of course. Jonas kept one hand was clasped around a glass of scotch, the other tucked casually into his white pants pocket. He looked like a cliche pornstar, washed up, sleazy, but a decent enough frame to rake in a few bucks. His brown hair was forced back by a thick layer of gel, exposing a pale face with cold, blue eyes. If it wasn’t for the expensive suit and solid gold chain around his neck, one might assume he was nothing more than a busted used car salesman. But busted as he may have been, Jonas Deihl was no cheap bastard. The Talisman Hotel & Casino had been in his family for generations, passed down from father to son. Old, old money. And despite his reckless casanova reputation, Jonas was no fool when it came to running the family business. The Talisman was known for its luxury and top-of-the-line services, attracting all customers from celebrities to billionaires to wasted bachelorettes. It was a sinner’s eutopia. And most everyone knew the devil that ran it. Although the general opinion of Mr. Deihl was that he seemed like a bit of a sociopath, reeked of overpriced cologne, and overall came off as quite off at times, people could in no way deny his sickening charm or the thick wad of cash he kept generously in his breast pocket. And Jonas devoured the attention. It was a rare feat to see him roaming the bar or lobby without a model or drag queen or two wrapped around his arm, and a signature devious smile plastered on his face. He was like the poor man’s Hugh Hefner.
The shrill sound of a meow which could only be compared to the sound of a slow, painful death suddenly tore Jonas’ attention away from the Las Vegas cityscape. He turned to see a tortoiseshell cat sitting perched on the glass coffee table, her orange eyes glaring daggers directly into her master’s chest.
“What’s the matter Camile?” Jonas cooed, approaching the animal.
“Daddy not giving you enough attention?”
He set his glass down on the table and reached out to scratch Camile’s head. Without warning, she hissed loudly, whipping her paw around to sink a set of sharp claws into his hand. The man yelped as he ripped his hand away, unintentionally making the damage of the scratch worse. Camile seemed pleased with herself at the sight of blood dripping down his bejeweled fingers. Jonas swore under his breath and once again lifted his glass, making sure to take one last, large gulp of the liquid. 
“Little bitch.” He grumbled.
The two of them had never particularly gotten along. Yet over time, Jonas had become very attached to Camile, thinking of her more as a baby than a pet, and she liked the free food, catnip, and designer collars. The man pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and pressed it to the wound. It seemed that sharp nails were his only kryptonite. The clear, small but deadly ones of sweet little Camile, and the colorful ones of desperate, panicked fingers attached to soft, trembling hands. He smiled at the thought of them, unconsciously tracing over the pink, fleshy scars on his collarbone. He remembered the woman who had put them there. It was three months ago. Her nails had been green with little gold hearts on each of the ring fingers. They looked cute, different. That’s why he had picked her. He liked the ones that stood out in some way, whether it be their nails, shoes, hair, anything really. He had an eye for unique pieces. 
The images of past conquests dancing in his head reminded him of his latest one, whom he had so rudely left alone in the bathroom. He smiled to himself, tossing the bloodied handkerchief onto the coffee table. 
He could hear muffled whimpers even before he reached the door handle. The sound was music to his ears, an itch to his groin. He opened the door like it was some game show reveal of his million dollar prize. Yet there was no car or all inclusive trip to Aruba waiting there for him. It was so much better.
The woman on the bathroom floor made the best attempt of a scream at the sight of him, which was unfortunately cloaked by the wash cloth stuffed deep in her mouth. Jonas grinned down at her, slowly removing each of his rings as she scooted her bound body towards the bathtub in a trivial effort to escape. He found it sort of amusing, in a sad kind of way. Her legs had been broken, and it took every fiber of his being to not burst into laughter at the sight of her struggle. She had just moved to the city with hopes of becoming a burlesque star. Jonas had smiled at her wide, eager eyes as she told him her plans at the downstairs bar, all the while mentally howling at how pathetic she was. It was no trouble to get this naive little princess up to his suite. 
He slunk towards her before crouching down to her level. She winced as he removed her gag, gasping at the sudden sliver of freedom. Her two front teeth had a large gap, like Pattie Boyd. That’s why he had chosen her.
It was all such an incredible high to him. Better than any drug, liquor, or orgasm could ever give him. The fear in her eyes, the gore of her now useless legs, the thick stench of sweat and adrenaline that filled the windowless room. He got off on the power, the idea that for a short moment in time, he was God. He wiped the mix of tears and mascara from her cheek, hands hot and vile against her cold skin. 
“Why’re you crying baby?” his voice attempted to carry out a sweet tone, which only sounded more bitter. 
The woman’s lower lip quivered, her eyes frantically trying to avoid his own. 
“Please don’t hurt me. Just let me go home.” she choked out. 
Jonas smiled and sucked his teeth, seemingly drinking her words up slowly in contemplation. His ego felt swollen, not dissimilar to how the patrons of his casino must have felt when they won a jackpot or when they knew they were about to get lucky. 
“Sorry beautiful,” he spoke finally, “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
She couldn’t even blink before the man pulled a knife from a holster around his ankle and plunged directly between her still wet eyes. A look of shock and hopelessness remained painted on her face as her body fell onto the tile floor with a thud. Jonas removed the knife and placed it back into the holster. His heart raced, his eyes were wild. It was pure ecstasy and he didn’t want it to end. He slowly rose to his feet, shifting his attention to the sink to wash away the crimson residue. His high was wearing off fast, and the self-loathing and restlessness began to creep back into his mind. He looked into the mirror. His eyes were baggy and dark, pristine white suit now riddled with blood. He looked like shit, to say the least. He splashed cold water onto his face and stripped down, leaving only his chain and weapon on his naked body. A red, silk robe hung on the back of the bathroom door which he slipped into. He felt drained, miserable even, crashing back down to his decrepit existence after such sheer moments of bliss. This was always the worst part of what he did, the aftermath. He plopped down onto the couch with a grunt and propped his feet up next to Camile who hadn’t left her spot on the coffee table. She used his legs as a bridge and climbed over his body to rest on the back of the sofa next to her owner’s sleepy head. 
“Are you ready to be nice now?” Jonas asked her in a condescending tone. 
She mewed in reply, glendly pawing at his hair. Jonas smiled and scratched her chin, his eyes becoming increasingly heavier. He let them close, already dreaming about his next great high. 
66 notes · View notes
creative-type · 4 years
Text
Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire
Summary: Cora had never been very good at telling the truth AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099165 Word Count: ~2300 AN: Written basically in one sitting, with minimal editing, and without referencing canon for accuracy. Basically, I thought it was a cool title for a Cora fic and needed to get the idea out of my system
.
“Are you happy here?”
Rosinante looked up at his father’s tired, defeated eyes. He heard Doffy screaming from the next room over, drowning out Mother’s desperate attempts to calm him as he demanded they return to Mariejois. Rosi didn’t think his brother would hit her like he sometimes hit him when he didn’t get his way, but he wasn’t sure, and that frightened him.
“Rosi?” Father prompted, reeling the boy’s wandering thoughts back to the question at hand.
Rosinante fidgeted, dropping his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at his father’s earnest expression. There were things he did like about living in the North Blue. He didn’t have to wear a bubble when he was outside, or watch the other children laugh as they hurt their slaves, or hear the hateful words their parents hurled as his mother and father.
But this morning they’d had burnt eggs on burnt toast for breakfast, Mother laughing as she told the tale of how she nearly set the kitchen on fire trying to light the stove. Father’s moustache was crooked and there were bits of tissue paper stuck to his face where he’d cut himself shaving. Secretly Rosinante thought that his brother had a point, that their lives would be so much better if Father would let the family purchase a slave or two. Already his mother had ruined an attempt sewing a hole in his favorite stuffed animal, and Rosi had had to bear the indignity of doing household chores.
Quietly, shamefully, Rosi wasn’t sure he wanted to be a human anymore. He squeezed his eyes closed as Father put his hands on his shoulders and lowered himself down to his knees. A Dragon never knelt, and at that moment Rosi felt like screaming, too.
Instead he was forced to face his father. He saw his hopeful smile, strained to the point of breaking, and the bright shine of tears in his eyes. The grip on Rosinante’s shoulders tightened, fingers digging into tender flesh hard enough to bruise.
“Please, Rosi,” his father begged. “Tell me that you’re happy.”
Rosinante swallowed, and somehow managed to smile in return even as Doffy’s tantrum echoed through the mansion’s empty halls. He knew what he had to say, even if it wasn’t true.
“I am.”
Xxx
“Are you sure about this, Rosinante?”
Rosi swallowed hard. He loved Sengoku like a father, but there were times he hated being in the same room as him. People called him the Buddah, but there was no kindness in his expression now, only sharp lines and steep crevices that displayed both his worry and his displeasure. He had reservations about Rosinante’s mission, that much was obvious. What was less clear was why . Did he not trust his adopted son to do what needed to be done? Was he worried that Doflamingo would appeal to the Celestial blood that ran in his veins? Rosinante tapped his fingers in a sharp staccato beat against the arm of his chair. Or was he simply concerned about his safety?
No, that wasn’t it. Rosi had survived from hell and back. There was no pain, no weapon, that could compare to the terror of his childhood. Under Sengoku’s watchful eye he’d grown strong and clever. Clever enough to match wits with his brother, who was already amassing terrible power out of the North Blue.
Cipher Pol had tried and failed to infiltrate his crew. Mariejois had sent their strongest knights, only for them to return in body bags. Vice Admiral Tsuru had made it her personal mission to wipe the scourge of the Heavenly Demon from the seas, and yet not only did Doflamingo live, but thrive.  
Rosinante had known since Father died that he would be the one to end his brother’s madness.
“I have to do this.”
“He’s your brother,” Sengoku said.
Rosi’s grip on his chair tightened. “He’s a monster.”
Doflamingo, the boy who would kill his own father in cold blood. Doflamingo, the boy who swore his revenge on all the world. Doflamingo, who even before their banishment was cruel and hateful to anyone he considered lesser than himself.
Doffy, the boy who had yellow hair that burned like gold in the sunlight and a laugh colder than the glacial waters of the northern sea. Doffy, the boy with the charisma to draw people to him like flies to honey, only to pluck their wings and destroy their dreams with the crushing weight of his own ambition.
Doffy, his brother, who had kept Rosinante alive with nothing but spite and sheer force of will, who had always insisted on dragging him to greater and greater heights, whether Rosi wanted to accompany him or not.
Sengoku’s eyes narrowed, cold and calculating. He was a man used to making hard and difficult choices. But this was his hardest and most difficult yet, and Rosi wasn’t sure if it was because of any genuine attachment or if he was afraid of losing too valuable a chess piece in a rapidly changing world.
“If all goes well, you’ll be in a position to put an end to Doflamingo permanently. When that time comes, are you sure you’ll be able to pull the trigger?”
Rosinante didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir.”
Xxx
There was no doubting that Doflamingo had greatness in him. It cloaked him alike an aura, some vestige of his celestial halo, inspiring  those around him. A threadbear, overstuffed seat became a throne if Doflamingo sat in it, his pink-feathered coat his royal vestments. Though he mingled with the small people of the world, the dirty and the downtrodden, he could never be mistaken for an ordinary person. The blood of kings ran in his veins, and the insatiable desire of his ambition would not be satisfied until he ruled the heavens and used the earth as his footstool.
Rosi wondered sometimes what would have happened if Sengoku had found Doffy instead. He wasn’t sure the wildness of his brother’s spirit could ever be tamed, but thought, maybe, that it could have been directed toward a noble purpose. The world needed good rulers just as much as it needed good soldiers, but as the years went on it became increasingly clear that neither Donquixte brother was able to adequately fulfill the role they’d been given.
“Corazón,” Doffy said, savoring the taste of the word as it rolled off his tongue. He loved using the name he’d trapped Rosi with, the title that told all the world who it was he belonged to. “How are the plans coming along?”
Rosi pointed to the map he had laid out in front of him as Doffy edged closer. His brother brushed away bits of cigarette ash, chuckling, “You’ll burn my plans to nothing if you aren’t careful.”
Cold sweat beaded at Rosi’s forehead, but he kept each breath even and controlled. It was just a turn of the phrase, nothing to get worked up about. There was no way he could suspect that he’d already alerted Tsuru of their position.
Doflamingo traced his finger over the map, mad grin growing madder. “I want you to look after Law.” He lifted a hand as Rosi stiffened. “I know, I know, you don’t like the kids, but this one’s different. He’s already proven he’s going to stick around, and he doesn’t have time to waste hanging in the background with Baby 5 and Buffalo. He needs to get his hands dirty.”
Rosi tilted his head in silent question.
“More dirty,” Doffy allowed. He tapped a knuckle against the map, where their newest mark was circled in blood-red ink. “Do you feel it, Rosi? His potential?”
It was rare for Doflamingo to ask his insight like this. As much as he was able to decipher Rosi’s looks and quirks with uncanny accuracy, they never had much to say to one another. There was too big a gulf between them to ever be bridged.
Doffy trusted him, else he wouldn’t have made him his right hand man. But he didn’t understand Rosi anymore than Rosinante understood the fury and madness that made his brother want to set the world on fire.
Or maybe they understood too well, while standing on different sides.
But Law...Law’s vision matched Doflamingo’s perfectly. His brother saw that, and wanted to steal the boy’s hate and use it to fuel his own ambition.
“Keep him safe, alright?” Doffy said. “I’m gonna need him around when he gets older.”
Even if he dared speak, Rosinante’s mouth went suddenly dry, constricting his throat and strangling what little air he had out of his lungs. He’d suspected already that Doffy was looking for a way around Law’s time limit, and if he succeeded…
Law was smart and he was fearless and he was angry. Oh, so very angry. Rosi saw the same fire burning in his eyes that shone in Doflamingo’s when they hung on the city wall. Once Doffy sunk his hooks into him he would never let go. Already the boy cared for nothing but the next person he could hurt. If his brother was able to channel those destructive instincts on his enemies then he might just succeed in bringing the world to his knees.
Rosi left Doffy to his maps, pausing only to clasp his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Doflamingo’s smile grew. “I knew I could trust you.”
Of course Rosinante couldn’t answer, so he left in search of Law. The knife wound in his side throbbed with every step. He couldn’t let Doffy have the boy; there was too much at stake. But neither had he succeeded in chasing him away. Doflamingo offered Law the one thing he craved, and like an addict looking for his next fix, Law would jump through any hoops to stay by his side. To learn, to grow, to destroy.
Sengoku would have said it was worth doing the hard thing if it meant keeping the world safe. History said his mentor and father-figure had put those words into practice often enough. But Rosi wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do the hard thing, the right thing. There had to be another option.
Except that was a lie. It was always a lie, and not even Rosi could convince himself it was true.
Xxx
“I finally found it! The Op-Op Fruit!”
Even in the cold, spots of fever bloomed on milk-white skin. Between panting breaths, Law rasped, “The building’s on fire...I heard gunshots, I thought...I thought something happened.”
Black stars danced behind Cora’s eyes. The pain of countless wounds needled the edge of his temper. “Knock it off, this is the fruit that’s going to save your life!”
“Even if I eat it, doesn’t mean it’s gonna save me.”
There wasn’t time to argue, for him or for Law. Cora forced the fruit down Law’s throat before the strength left his legs completely. Blood trickled down his cheek and stained the white snow red. He didn’t care. They’d won, it was over. He could take Law...and run...and be free of Doflamingo forever…
Cora almost laughed. He’d always been a liar, but even so. He usually he stuck to stories that were believable. His pulse thundered impossibly loud in his ears, almost drowning out Law’s hysterics at the sight of his wounds.
But Law...Law needed help. He needed someone to show him there was another way, that he didn’t have to fall into Doffy’s madness. And to do that Cora needed to survive, and his brother needed to be taken somewhere far away where his poison could never hurt anyone every again.
It was ironic, in a way, that just as Cora resolved himself to live that Law unwittingly sealed his doom. Perhaps it was inevitable. After all, People of D were God’s natural enemy. The same blood in Doffy’s veins ran in his, just as terrible, just as evil. Though he’d renounced his title long ago, there was a time that Cora had lived as a god. Delayed as it was, his punishment was just.
For some reason, Cora was okay with that.
“What’s going to happen to you?” Law asked. He settled down into the empty treasure chest, naked fear in his eyes. Cora didn’t think he’d have the strength to stop him if he did something foolish, so he smiled.
“Doffy wants you and the fruit. I’m his blood brother. He might be furious, but he won’t kill me.”
It was worth it to see the hopeful grin spread across his face. For all that he’d suffered, there was still an innocence in Law. He believed what Cora said, because it’s what he wanted to believe, even if it wasn’t true.
“I’m sorry for lying.”
There was a certain magic in those words, a panacea stronger than anything the Op-Op Fruit had to offer. For just a moment every hard line on Law’s face softened, and he looked like a boy again instead of the sick, angry man Doflamingo wanted him to become.
“I didn’t want you to hate me.”
Cora felt Law’s fists pounding against the rough wooden box. He had to hang on just a little bit longer now, and it would all be over. The sting of regret hurt more than the bullet wounds, guilt crushing him more than the blows of the Doflamingo Family. He was a good for nothing, sorry klutz of a man who made a disaster out of everything he touched. Even now, with everything all on the line, he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.
“I didn’t want you to hate me.”
The darkness was coming in, enveloping him like the sable feathers of his cloak. His arms too cold and heavy to even lift his gun, but still he hung on. For Law’s sake, he would stave off Death for as long as he could.  
His breathing slowed, eyes too heavy to keep open. Time was running out. He’d told so many lies, he could only hope that Law would believe him when for once he spoke the truth.
“I love you.”
61 notes · View notes
cicada-bones · 3 years
Text
The Warrior and the Embers
Chapter 11: The Bite
Tumblr media
Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter
The next week passed slowly, agonizingly.
Two more dead demi-Fae were found, both following the same strange patterns as the first, and yet Rowan was still no closer to identifying who- or what-ever was responsible. It infuriated him. And the princess certainly wasn’t helping.
Each day Rowan awoke before dawn, shaken abruptly from sleep by vivid, intense nightmares. He then spent his mornings pouring over papers, flying out to view the sites of the three dead bodies, or on fruitless searches for the dark creature he had seen with the princess.
As time passed, he was becoming more and more convinced that the two were one and the same, but without proof he was unwilling to commit to such a claim. And though he had combed through the record-keeping books held by the fortress, and had racked his brain for any memory, any mention of such a creature, he had come up with nothing.
He even sent letters out to his fellow blood-sworn, asking if they had ever seen or heard of anything that could possibly assist in his search. But it was unlikely that he would hear back from any of them any time soon, if ever. All Rowan could do was inform those nearby of the threat, while Malakai told the rest of the fortress. Attempting to keep them on their guard until the danger passed, or was defeated.
At noon each day, Rowan would go down the kitchens, collect the princess and lead her to the ruins on the ridge, where they sat. Pointlessly. For hours.
Time that Rowan could be spending in a myriad of other, more productive ways. Finding the creature that was killing the demi-Fae, for one. But no, he had to sit and babysit the brat while she refused, point-blank, to even try to shift.
It was infuriating.
While the hostility between them didn’t escalate into anything physical, the girl seemed to get more and more irritating with each day, each hour, that he was in her presence.
Just because Rowan was beginning to understand why she behaved the way she did, it did not mean for one second that her behavior was any less maddening. And he had dealt with grating personalities before – he’d trained Fenrys, for crying out loud – but none of them, absolutely none of them, had anything on this princess.
He’d gotten used to the others, and each had become familiar annoyances – hardly enough to prick his hide. Definitely not enough to pierce though his icy armor. But this girl, this child, always managed to find a new route of attack, a new way to surprise and infuriate him.
And through it all, those iron bars of fear in her head never swayed an inch. Nor did she find a way around them. The girl let her emotions rule her, control her, and yet no matter how he taunted, no matter how he snarled and sneered and hissed, she remained determinedly, resolutely human.
Always, with every other soldier placed in his charge, anger worked. The soldiers would break, would find the fight within them, if Rowan made them angry enough. Rage would turn even the most sniveling coward into someone who could stand and fight.
But not with this girl.
No matter how much they snarled and spat at each other, she refused to shift. And Rowan did not yet know what else to try. Of course, it didn’t hurt that her very presence made him angry enough to raze the whole mountain.
So, they exchanged insults, had silent arguments, and generally pissed each other off. Whenever she was particularly nasty, he made the princess chop wood until she could no longer feel her arms, saying that if she was going to waste his time, then she might as well be useful in some way.
Once, he even threatened to take her back to the barrow-fields, as it was the only time that she had even come close to making the shift, but she had snarled so viciously in response that he was forced backed off.
She said that she would slit her own throat before she went back there, and while having the girl dead and out of his life would certainly be a relief, the image of her lying on the ground, bleeding out from a ragged wound to her throat, didn’t sit well.
After they reappeared at the fortress each evening, Rowan would fly above the woodlands, letting the spring rains clear the girl’s blistering scent from his lungs. Then he would find his way to the kitchens, drawn by the soothing, familiar sound of Emrys’ stories.
The princess was there every night, along with every other unoccupied member of the fortress, due to the rains keeping them all indoors. She always ate on the shadowed steps, keeping well away from everyone, including Rowan. And he certainly wasn’t going to argue with that. Outside of training, there was no reason for them to have anything to do with each other.  
But then, on the eighth day after their arrival at Mistward, the aggravating pattern finally broke.
That morning, Rowan had discovered the third demi-Fae body. A female. She had been young, and utterly defenseless. Her body had been carelessly dumped in a ditch, her limbs splayed at odd angles and her face contorted in fear and agony.
She had not died well. And Rowan couldn’t do anything to prevent it from happening again. He was useless, utterly useless. And murderously enraged.
And the fury followed him through the rest of the morning, pounding in the background as talked with Malakai, sharpened his blades, stared at maps, and collected the princess from the kitchens.
But they were only partway through their hike when the girl suddenly stopped and said, “I have a request.”
Rowan turned to face her, regarding her flatly. Her black eye had only just started to fade, her frail body still weak and thin and pale – like she was recovering from a sickness. “I want to see you shift.”
Rowan blinked, the command in her voice familiar and infuriating. That superior tone grated on him more than anything else about her, more than even her arrogance, or her cowardice. Rowan took orders from his queen, and no other. That alone was hard enough already.
His voice was stormy as he said, “You don’t have the privilege of giving orders.”
She disregarded his provocation, and instead became almost earnest, persuasive. “Show me how you do it.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, skeptical. And though his fury did not sway one inch, and giving the girl anything she wanted only aggravated him further, Rowan supposed that nothing could be lost by showing her his shift. Particularly as she had already seen his animal form.
So Rowan stared back at her, silently saying, Just this once.
And he shifted with a flash of light, flying over to the nearest tree branch to perch and gauge her reaction. Her mouth was hanging open, her eyes carefully tracking him, and something like wonder emanated from her. She stared at him like he was some kind of zoo animal, or a plaything.
He clicked his beak, choking down that now all-too-familiar fury. Then when she looked away, scanning the ground distractedly, he lunged.
Rowan slashed his talons at her eyes, then shifted back in another flash of light and was once again clothed and armed and growling, inches from the princess’ face. “Your turn.”
She flinched back automatically, but didn’t react in any other way to his sudden attack. Which only angered him further.
“Where do your clothes go?”
“Between, somewhere. I don’t particularly care.”
She clenched her jaw, her eyes stony as she reacted to his hostile tone with her own irritation. Satisfaction washed through Rowan at the sight, and he bared his teeth at the girl, but she just held his stare evenly, breathing deep, steeling herself.
“Sometimes I wonder whether this is a punishment for you,” she snarled at him through her teeth, “But what could you have done to piss off her Immortal Majesty?”
“Don’t use that tone when you talk about her.”
This close to the princess, her scent coated his throat, enveloping his every sense in her flames, and her sweet, citrusy brightness. Her scent was intoxicating, and inescapable. He choked on it.
“Oh, I can use whatever tone I want. And you can taunt and snarl at me and make me chop wood all day, but short of ripping out my tongue, you can’t – ”
Without thinking, without any consideration for what he was doing, Rowan shot his hand out and grabbed her tongue. She gagged, and bit down on his fingers, but he refused to let go, her mortal teeth not enough to dig into his skin.
But still, the action echoed the Fae gesture, the claiming bite that he had not experienced for two centuries. And it intensified his rage from the pit of lava slowly bubbling in his stomach to a fiery torrent of pure, untarnished fury.
“Say that again,” Rowan purred.
The girl choked, desperately reaching for the daggers at his hips while simultaneously slamming her knee between his legs. But Rowan just shoved his body against hers, trapping her against a tree trunk and preventing her from making any other move to escalate their fight.
The girl’s eyes widened, the scent of her fear and shame coating his tongue with its awful copper tang. But he just growled in satisfaction, taking it for the submission that it was. The princess knew how outmatched she was, and she hated it. Detested how she was forced to yield to his strength.
Rowan released her tongue, but then immediately regretted it as she spat on his feet, gasping for air. And then she swore at him. A filthy name – a foul, hateful curse.
An insult that he could not stand for.
For the first time, Rowan lost all control. He was utterly overwhelmed by his fury and her scent and the feel of her body against his. And as he surrendered to the primal, purely Fae part of him, he bit her.
His canines sunk into the curve of skin between her neck and collarbone, and he didn’t even hear as the princess shrieked in rage and pain. He could feel her frantic pulse pounding in his own body as his every sense, every thought, was turned towards the taste of the female’s blood currently streaming into his mouth.
It tasted of her, of her fire and her flickering embers. Of her bright, sweet scent of jasmine and lemon verbena. Which was now so intense that he lost sight of his surroundings, could no longer sense them around him. There was only her.
He pushed harder against her, pressing them into the tree trunk until he could feel every curve, every bone of her body against his. Her fire burned through him, passing through his icy armor as if it didn’t exist, batting away his wind like cobwebs or dust motes.
He could taste who she was, could feel her very essence crackling over his tongue. Her role as the Heir of Terrasen, her identity as the Heir of Mab – a tiny, glittering raindrop. The power to heal and to manipulate water, hidden underneath the weight of all that flame.
He could taste her immense, roiling grief; a flavor so familiar it could have even belonged to him. Her anger and fear and shame and every other emotion coursing through her blood at that moment. And the scent of a male – no, a man – her lover?
Cold fury tore through him once again, icing over his limbs and taking him as much by surprise as the bite had. She belonged to someone else. Even this girl, this insufferable child who was worthy of no one, had someone. She wasn’t alone.
But before he could even begin to process that thought, the girl growled and shoved him roughly away. Rowan staggered back, his teeth ripping her skin, temporarily blinded by a flash of light and a ripple of color as the girl shifted, and roared, dominant and immortal and purely Fae.
“There you are.”
Rowan’s face split into a satisfied grin, pushing away that quick flash of anger. He spat her blood out, wanting to rid himself of the all-consuming taste, to clear his head of the feel of her. To try to think around it.
She bared her canines at him, her eyes burning bright with fury. She moved to lunge at him, but then paused, taking in the world around her as if it was different – fresh and new and clear in this immortal form.
The girl panted, breathless, as she adjusted. The wound at her neck quickly knitted itself back together, leaving only a faint line along her collarbone and a large bloodstain down her chest where the wound had gushed and spurted under Rowan’s teeth. He hadn’t even noticed.
Rowan tensed, wrestling with the primal part of him, fighting the urge to lunge and bite her again, and make the mark stick. The impulse unnerved him, but he just ignored it, locking it away behind walls of ice.
Then he felt it, brighter and stronger than ever before: wildfire.
The girl’s power was a maelstrom beneath her skin, and while Rowan could always feel its crackling fingers, now that she inhabited her Fae body the fire could not be ignored. It rose up within her, a great wave, begging to be released, and he tensed, ready to batter it back if she lost control. But then the girl was tensing as well, her body stiff as rawhide as she pushed down the magic with a barrage of pure fear and hatred.
Rowan stepped closer to the girl, hesitant. She needed to release the power, needed to learn to let it go, or it would consume her. “Let it out. Don’t fight it.” His voice was as soft as it had ever been in her presence.
She breathed, quick and fast as a bird, almost hyperventilating.
And her magic reacted to her fear, cocooning her, swaddling her, reaching out towards Rowan to protect her. And as her magic brushed over him, like a cat against his legs, Rowan felt his own magic shift in response, reaching out to brush against hers, arching to her touch.
He cast a tendril of power to her elbow, sending her falling back against the tree. And as Rowan recklessly sent another whorl of power to her cheek, he realized that his magic wanted to play, was playing, with the girl and her blazing flames.
But before Rowan could decide whether he wanted to stop, or continue, or get angry, the girl finally let go of her tight hold on her power, and a great wave of blue wildfire rushed towards him. It engulfed the trees, the path, the whole world in flames –
Without thinking, Rowan sucked the air out of the space, choking the blaze into nothing.
The girl dropped to her knees, clutching at her throat as if she could claw open her blocked airway with her bare hands. Rowan stepped right in front of her, peering down to make sure that she wasn’t going to burst into flames again the second he gave the girl her breath back.
Satisfied that she wouldn’t, Rowan let go of his hold on her lungs and air flowed down her throat in a rush. She pulled it down in great gulps, blind to the world as a white light flashed and she relaxed back into her mortal form, those iron bars solid and unyielding once more.
Rowan frowned in irritation. So much for progress.
Now that the girl was mortal again, the scent of her fire was much less potent. But still, he could taste it on his teeth, taste her grief and her throne and her fire and the man she loved.
That cold anger washed through him once more, the taste of the man’s scent a faint, pale tang of steel and cotton and birchwood. It was uncomfortable on his tongue. Repellant. For the first time, he noticed the amethyst ring shining dully on her left hand.
Almost against his will, Rowan found himself asking, “Does your lover know what you are?”
The girl lifted her head up, seeming completely unsurprised by the question. “He knows everything.”
Rowan pursed his lips, sensing the half-truth. Regardless, he wouldn’t bite her again, even if it had managed to push her into her Fae form.
It wasn’t worth it. The feel of her power, of her fire coursing through his limbs…he almost shuddered. And she belonged to another, the undeniable proof of their connection resting in her very blood and bones.
The quick flash of anger tapped once again against his icy walls. But he ignored it, and instead said, “I won’t be biting you again.”
She growled, weak and fangless this time. “Even if it’s the only way to get me to shift?”
He was icy and empty, all the fight taken out of him. So he didn’t react to the fiery challenge in the girl’s voice, instead turning to walk up the hill and towards the ridge, choosing to pretend that whatever just occurred between them hadn’t happened.
But he still answered her. “You don’t bite the women of other males.”
She hesitated. “We’re not – together,” something in her voice had shifted, was dulled. “Not anymore. I let him go before I came here.”
Rowan found himself looking back at her over his shoulder, curiosity breaking through his tight hold on his emotions. “Why?”
“Because he’s safer if he’s as repulsed by me as you are.”
Rowan cocked his head. Though the words were small, quiet things, they spoke of a pure, unadulterated self-loathing. The kind that dug down into you and nestled there, a permanent fixture. Her words touched something deep and broken and familiar within Rowan.
And as the screaming began to echo in his skull Rowan found himself saying, “At least you’ve already learned one lesson.” Her brow furrowed, and he elaborated, “The people you love are just weapons that will be used against you.”
His voice was cold and hard and full of his ancient grief. Whether she heard it or not, he knew she understood. He’d tasted it in her blood. This spineless princess had much to learn, but he didn’t need to teach her about loss.
Rowan pushed through the familiar pain, shoving it deep down inside him with a battering ram of ice and wind, erasing Lyria’s screams from his mind. Not registering the scent of grief wafting from the girl through the feeling of his own agony.
“Shift again,” he ordered, jerking his chin at her. “This time, try to remain in control, and don’t let yourself be overwhelmed by your magic, allow it to breathe, don’t release – ”
But she was turned inwards, eyes blank and unseeing. Letting her emotions spiral in the air around her, allowing them to become a storm that she could not escape. Coward. She wasn’t dealing with her pain, couldn’t face it. Weak and pathetic and spineless. Unworthy.
Rowan gripped her by the shoulders and snarled at her, “Are you listening?”
She came back to earth and stared at him, plainly exhausted. “Why don’t you just bite me again?”
Rowan clenched his jaw, clamping down on the strange mix of emotions that rushed through him at the words. Unable to deal with any of them. Instead he went back to his purpose, to his reason for being here in the first place. Rowan was here to train her, on the orders of his queen and master. And that was all.
So Rowan turned to anger, to the only tool he knew for breaking cowards from their fear, to make them stand and fight. He clenched her shoulders tighter between his fingers as he snarled, “Why don’t I give you the lashing you deserve?”
It was an attempt to pull her back from within her miserable, self-pitying shell. But it didn’t work as he intended. Instead of snarling, or retorting with one of her usual vicious insults, the girl stiffened, and blinked.
Something in her shifted, turned from weak exhaustion to a boundless, unyielding determination. “If you ever take a whip to me, I will skin you alive.”
Rowan’s eyes narrowed at the hard look in her eyes, and he let go of her shoulders roughly, turning to pace around the small clearing. As he stalked, he reassessed, needing to find another way through her armor.
“If you don’t shift again, you’re pulling double duty in the kitchens for the next week.”
“Fine.”
His fingers twitched at the clipped answer, anger pulsing though him.
“You’re worthless.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You would probably have been more useful to the world if you’d actually died ten years ago.”
She just looked back at him, her body unnaturally still.
“I’m leaving.”
Rowan watched as she turned and strode back to the fortress, impassive. He should have been thrilled, should have been overjoyed that the girl was finally departing, finally abandoning her deal with Maeve and going back to whatever gods-forsaken place she had come from.
But he was just annoyed with her. Annoyed that the girl was running again, annoyed that she was allowing the fear to win, to control her. Annoyed that she would never be worthy of her name, her title, or her power. Of the hopes that were so unwittingly pinned on her.
Rowan transformed into his hawk, and swooped after her, moving to wait between two oak trees directly in the path she would be forced to take back from the fortress.
Though so much had happened already today, barely any time had passed since Rowan had collected the girl from the kitchens. The sun was still high in the sky, and they had only made it a short distance away from the walls of the fortress.
So, the girl soon reappeared, her satchel slung over her shoulder and her eyes solid bricks of gold, hard and cold.
“Is this what you do? Run away when things get hard?”
She brushed past him.
“You’re free of your obligation to train me, so I have nothing more to say to you, and you have nothing more to say to me. Do us both a favor and go to hell.”
Rowan growled viciously. “Have you ever had to fight for anything in your life?”
A low, bitter laugh came up from deep in her chest, but she just kept walking, heading west. He kept up easily, still pushing for the answers he sought. “You’re proving me right with every step you take.”
“I don’t care.”
The words grated on him. Particularly because he knew that she did care, not about his opinion of her, but about whatever knowledge she had been so desperate to get from his queen. “I don’t know what you want from Maeve – what answers you’re looking for, but you – ”
“You don’t know what I want from her?” she interrupted, shouting back at him, “How about saving the world from the King of Adarlan?”
That had perhaps been the last thing he expected to hear from the selfish girl. Not only because she seemed to have no interest in anyone but herself, but because she believed that Maeve would help her with such an endeavor.
Caught off guard, and wanting to understand despite himself, he just replied, “Why bother? Maybe the world’s not worth saving.”
Her voice was furious and loud and completely unguarded as she shot right back, “Because I made a promise. A promise to my friend that I would see her kingdom freed.” She shoved her right palm into his face, where two long scars lay. The marks of a blood oath. “I made an unbreakable vow. And you and Maeve – all you gods-damned bastards – are getting in the way of that.”
He narrowed his eyes as he continued to follow her down the hillside. “And what of your own people? What of your own kingdom?”
“They are better off without me, just as you said.”
Rowan snarled, fury momentarily breaking over the skeptical disbelief. “So you’d save another land, but not yours. Why can’t your friend save her own kingdom?”
“Because she is dead!” The last word tore from her throat in a desperate scream. “Because she is dead, and I am left with my worthless life!”
He looked back at her for a moment, her eyes meeting his while her fractured, tortured words reached down deep inside of him and tugged.
Her eyes were a mirror, a reflection of his own as she turned away and strode down the hillside, as far away from the fortress and the demi-Fae and Maeve and him as she could get.
And Rowan just stood there, stunned. Her words burrowed into him, tenaciously digging up his insides. And they hurt. Not much, but still a shocking, unanticipated amount. She hurt him with his own pain, stabbing him with a blade made from the words he shouted at himself in his dreams each night.
The ache was familiar, and yet completely different. Lyria’s screams weren’t echoing in his head, there were no visions flashing before his eyes. Just Aelin, tearing down the hillside before him, carrying his words on her lips. Forging into the woodland alone.
He stood, staring at the path she had made in the undergrowth, as the spring rains began to fall. Without the girl’s crackling fire surrounding him, Rowan felt colder, emptier, and very, very alone.
···
Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter
14 notes · View notes