#advice in general always just sounds like white noise to me but somehow some of their tips got thru to me

[rpd-rookie]

Under Her Extra-Large Umbrella - Chris Redfield x Reader (Final Part)

Summary: Umbrella is about to send Nemesis to hunt and kill the surviving members of the S.T.A.R.S. You must warn Chris before it’s too late.

Author’s note: This is the last chapter. It’s very angsty but I like how it came out. Hope you’ll like it as much as I liked writing it. 

Part 1 is available here / Part 2 is here 

Warnings: Angst, Death, Violence, Language.

                 Horror struck you. It froze each and every limb of your body, making you unable to move even an eyelash as a cold eerie sensation crawled down your spine. You couldn’t look away from it and it seemed like it couldn’t look away from you either. That face, deformed and scraggy, barely covered in a thin layer of shredded pale skin, staring at you with a single veiled white eye in which no emotion could be read. It was terrifying. An atrocity. And you had made it. And yet, it seemed that your impression was far from unanimous as every scientist around you was looking at the corpse-like creature caged in a pod of amniotic liquid with a bloodcurdling fascination, their eyes gleaming with joy and admiration.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present you the new generation of Tyrant, the Nemesis T-Type.”                 Loud applause accompanied by a torrent of compliments instantly made Doctor Rochois smile with pride. “This new Bio Organic Weapon will revolutionize combat in ways our previous Tyrants would have never been able to. Capable of intelligence and self-awareness, the Nemesis T-type is programmed to obey every command and adapt itself as well as his tactics to the conditions surrounding him and he won’t abandon until his task is completed. He is completely infallible and, let’s say it, indestructible.” People started whispering their awe after this latest remark. Certainly were they already imagining the six zeros on their future pay check. It disgusted you. “And as I’m speaking, this specimen that you’re looking at right now is about to be deployed in Raccoon City.”

Your eyes widened in shock and you stared at the creature once again, completely petrified. “Chris.” You whispered as worry tied your stomach in a painful knot.                 “Ladies and Gentlemen, as you must all know by now, in July our lab in the Arklay Mountains was breached, causing a small viral outbreak in the region of Raccoon City that we managed to control, not to worry. But we cannot allow the secrets that escaped with the virus to be revealed to the public eye. We cannot let the S.T.A.R.S unit compromising our future. As our founder Oswell E. Spencer once said, Umbrella is God! We are gods creating a new world with an advanced race of human beings! Evolution is in our hands. The future of mankind in his our hands and we cannot let the hubris of a stupid unit of police sabotage all this. In Greek mythology, the Gods sent the goddess Nemesis to punish arrogant humans. Now it’s our turn to send our Nemesis to destroy the S.T.A.R.S!” His speech was like a powerful and belligerent war cry, followed by a thunderous applause that rumbled as loudly as his words in the lab and yet that sounded like a mere murmur when Nemesis growled in his pod like an enraged beast, showing his sharp long teeth. “STAAAAAARRRRS!”           God, what have you done?

                 His watch had just stricken 10pm when Chris put down his pen on the desk of his hotel room, reading the letter he had just finished to write. He had hoped he would have found a certain catharsis in writing down his feelings. But apparently there was no way of extricating the pain out of him just yet.

                                                     “Dear Jill,                

                 Perhaps it is a bit risky to send you this letter but I don’t know anyone else I could write this to. You’re the only one who’s not afraid to kick my ass and tell me the truth when needed.                     I screwed up, Jill. Completely fucked up. And I think I lost myself too. I lied to this girl, used her to my own benefits and did things that are so unlike me. Sure my plan worked in the end, just not the way I intended (not so surprising I know). And now that I’m that close to obtain what I wanted, I’m not so sure I want it anymore. At least not like that. And I feel awful.                        It’s tearing me apart because I know that finishing what I started could bring closure and peace to what happened to us but, at the same time, I would hate myself forever for it.                   If he were here, I know my father would tell me to do what’s right. But I don’t know what’s right anymore.                   What should I do, Jill? Tell me, please.

                 Love,

                 Chris”

Chris folded the letter and placed it in an envelope addressed to Jill and Jill only. If only he could place all his sorrow in it as well. He was sure his best friend would be able to find a way to get rid of it all instead of letting it grow the way he was letting it grow each time his eyes were laying upon the badge on the table before him, this ridiculous thing that had caused so much pain and an awful betrayal. All this for that?               “Fuck!!” He growled as he impulsively grabbed the object to throw it across the room.                   It slammed against the wall and fell onto the ground, closely followed by a glass of whisky - that exploded in a thousand of tiny pieces the second it touched the wall - and his wooden chair that smashed against the cast iron radiator, almost breaking the gas pipe in the process.                   Chris always had a temper. Even he couldn’t deny it. It actually had caused him some trouble in his short career especially in the Air Force. “Mind your temper, son.” He had been told him more than once. But that was a piece of advice Chris had never followed. And maybe that’s why his career in the military had been short, why he had resigned.                   Because yes, Chris knew how to resign. He knew how and when to quit. He knew nothing in the world was worth his integrity and honour. So why hadn’t he be able to stop this manipulation? Had he really sunk that low? Had he truly become what he had always hated?                

                 A loud knock at the door echoed in the room. Chris sighed and went to open it, expecting the manager of the hotel and his permanent sulk to be waiting on the doormat, ready to scold him for making so much noise. As he opened the door, he couldn’t be more wrong or more surprised. “Y/N?”           Dressed in your work clothes, you were standing before him trying to keep the composure you had somehow successfully managed to gain on your way here. “Now is a bad time?” You quickly glanced inside the room, spotting all the mess Chris had done. Guess that explained the noises you had heard from the corridor. “No. No. Absolutely not. Come in.” He stepped aside to let you in and you entered his room, rubbing you hands together in discomfort. A gesture Chris noticed immediately but couldn’t blame you for. The situation was indeed more than awkward. “If I knew you would come I would have …”         “Clean?” You asked, almost with a mocking smile. “Come on Chris, we both know it’s not your forte.” The man chuckled breathlessly unsure if the rebuke was meant to hurt or to be funny. Maybe both.         “I wasn’t expecting you. That’s it.” He rushed to quickly pick up his chair for you to sit on it but as soon as he placed it back next to his desk it crumbled onto the floor like a mere stack of wood. “Yep. That’s definitely broken. Why don’t you sit on the bed?”   “I’m not staying.” You announced and a single disappointed ‘oh’ escaped Chris’ lips. Clearly you weren’t here to fix things between the two of you. “I just came here to give you this.”

You opened your handbag and slowly handed him a notebook that Chris immediately recognized. It was your diary, the one he had read in secret, the one that contained all the information about your work and about what was going on in Umbrella’s French lab. And here you were, willingly giving it to him without hesitation or second thought. “Why?” Chris frowned, not understanding what was happening.       “Umbrella is planning something bad.” Your words made the young man shiver in fear. He could feel the familiar sensation crawling in his entire body, freezing it, paralysing it as nightmarish memories flashed back in his head, memories from the mansion, memories of his fallen colleagues and friends. Not again. “They’re planning on releasing their new creation in Raccoon City to hunt your friends from the S.T.A.R.S.” “Nemesis?” Chris asked to make sure that the new creation you were talking about was the one he had read about in your notebook. When you nodded, he took a deep breath to keep his heart from exploding in fear and rage in his chest.                   “And it won’t stop until they’re all dead. That’s what it has been programmed for.” You added and noticed Chris’s grip furiously tighten around your notebook. An understandable reaction you had been expecting since the moment you had decided to come here to tell him all about Umbrella’s latest plans.       “When are they going to do that?” He calmly asked through his gritted teeth that showed that the composure he was desperately trying to keep was on the verge of bursting.                   “I don’t know but very soon and we won’t be able to stop them. But there is something in this diary that might help you or your friends. I gathered every single piece of information about Nemesis in this notebook including his weaknesses. Plus it contains enough evidence to bring Umbrella down. I’m sure you’ll know what to do with it.”

Chris’ eyes widened, shocked yet amazed by your decision. He had never expected you to do this, not for him, not after everything that had happened between the two of you, not after what he had done. But despite the unconditional thankfulness he was feeling right now, he couldn’t help but worry about you as he dared imagine the consequences of your selfless act.  “But you …”     “I’m ready to take my responsibilities. I always was. Despite what you may think.” The rebuke hurt and Chris was sure that was its purpose. After all, the last time you two had talked he had said terrible things and had accused you of horrors that were not all necessarily true.     “ Y/N, I …” He sighed and you briefly looked down, refusing to see a pity you did not deserve veiling his beautiful brown eyes. Things were already hard enough.                                   “No, Chris. You were right.” You admitted. “I created a monster. And I can’t live with myself knowing that what I did might endanger people …or worse. I trust you and I know you’ll do the right thing.”                   You cupped his cheek, letting go to a surge of affection - probably the last – for this man who, despite his many wrongs and the heartbreak he had caused you, had enchanted your life in ways no other man would have.                 Chris welcomed your touch, accepting the tender caress as his heart broke. He hadn’t behaved like the most righteous man lately. He had betrayed you, lied to you, abused your trust and still you were here, telling him you were trusting him to do the right thing, giving him a sort of second chance he was certain he didn’t deserve. And yet, only one answer came to his mind.                   “I will.” He promised.

You had a brief sad smile before pressing your lips of his cheek, right in the corner of his pink lips. This was a goodbye kiss and it lingered on his face as long as it could just to be sure you would remember the taste and the woody perfume of his skin. “Take care of yourself, Chris.” You whispered, still close to him, your hand on his strong jaw.       “You too, Y/N.” Chris murmured back, squeezing your hand so tenderly it made you smile. And you managed to let go of him happy to leave knowing there was no resentment between the two of you, but also and mostly relieved. You had done the right thing and that felt so good, like a heavy pain lifted off your chest.     You turned around and headed towards the door, feeling Chris’ gaze on you. “Y/N?” He called out and you stopped on your tracks to look at him one last time over your shoulder. He seemed sad, almost guilty and it crushed you. You didn’t want him to be hurt. He was a good man and he had suffered enough. “My feelings for you were real.” He confessed.               Was it an attempt to make you stay? An attempt to make you run to his arms and kiss him with all the love you had for him? Or simply a desire to part on something real and true and forget all the lies and the treachery? You didn’t ask. You couldn’t ask just like you couldn’t rush into his arms. You knew you would never leave if you did. “I know.” You put your hand on the knob, ready to leave, mixed feelings of happiness and sadness tightening your stomach. It would soon disappear. At least that’s what you dared to hope.

But all hopes flew away when you suddenly felt the door tremble in its frame. The latch clinked in the deadbolt, again and again you let go of the knob to take a step back. You looked back at Chris who was staring at you in incomprehension but as soon as he saw the fear in your eyes he rushed towards his bed to take the gun he had hidden under the mattress. “Stand back.” He ordered as he pushed you behind him to shield you from whatever was coming.         The tremor became louder as if it was getting closer. And it was. It started echoing in the entire room, making the crystal pearls of the chandelier above your head jingle loudly and the walls shake all around you. Whatever was approaching was big and it was coming for him, or maybe for you both. That’s the only thing Chris was sure of and that was enough to make him aim his gun at the door and wait, ready to shoot. “That won’t work.” You declared, knowing full well what was in this hotel right now. “We need to leave or it will kill us.”       Chris glanced at you, keeping his guard up. Running away was not in his nature. “What is it?”                 You didn’t have time to reply as a growl shook the entire room. “STAAAAAARRRRS!” The door broke from its hinges as if it was made of cardboard and it flew over your head, deadly propelled by a monster Chris had never seen before. You both miraculously managed to dodge it and you screamed as you fell down onto the floor, Chris knelt in front of you, still trying to protect you as the door shattered the window behind you in a million of tiny pieces. “Son of a bitch! What the hell is that thing?” Chris harrumphed as he began shooting at the head of the creature. It looked like a tyrant but it was way bigger and definitely way more powerful since the magnum bullets barely made him flinch. “Nemesis!”            

The gigantic BOW entered the room slowly but with a heavy self-assured gait that made Chris’ eyes widened in terror. So that’s what was about to be sent in Raccoon City to hunt his friends. Holy shit! Nemesis approached you both, his veiled pale eye fixed upon Chris. “STARS!” He growled as he raised his muscular arm up in the air to punch you both with all the strength it had. The young man pushed you away to protect you, dropping his weapon in the process. You rolled onto the wooden floor and briefly got time to scream when the monster’s fist grazed Chris’ chest. “Chris!”     “Run! Get out!” Chris shouted at you as he quickly crawled to pick up his gun, still determined to defend himself against that beast.

You couldn’t run away, nor could you sit here and watch Chris get killed by the monster you had helped creating. You looked around you, panicked-stricken and terrified for the life of the man you loved, searching for something, anything that might help you neutralising Nemesis for a while and give you enough time to run away.         But the only idea that came to your head was dangerous, highly dangerous, suicidal even. But there was no time to think about something else.   And so you rushed towards Chris who was on the ground to pull him towards you before the Tyrant could crack his head open with a simple punch and helped him stand up. “I told you to run.” Chris screamed, terrified for you as much as you were terrified for him.         You glanced at Nemesis whose hand was stuck in the wooden floor “You’re not the only one who’s stubborn, Chris.” And you kissed him, quickly but hard and passionately, not caring for a second about the monster struggling to free himself right beside you.           Chris frowned, not understanding why you were doing this until he realised his magnum was not in is hand anymore. Instead he had a small notebook, your notebook and you had his weapon. His eyes widened in alarm as everything finally made sense to him “My feelings were real as well.” You confessed. “No!” He shouted, trying to take his gun back but you pushed him with all the strength you got through the broken window behind him, knowing full well that the fall would not kill him.           Chris tumbled over the railing, unable to resist the push and he fell into the void, screaming until his body dived into the trash-filled dumpster under the window. You smiled knowing he would be fine and turned around to see Nemesis going back up on its feet. “Alright. It’s you and I now, you fucker.”

You never held a gun in your life but you knew you didn’t need much training or precision to do what you intended to do. All you needed was to know how to pull a trigger and hope that your sacrifice would not be in vain. “Take that one with you to hell.” You curled your index and instinctively closed your eyes the second you heard the bullet escape the barrel with a loud bang to fly towards the creature.            

It’s true what they say about guns. They’re quick, awfully quick, so quick you realise you pulled the trigger only after the bullet lodge itself in your target. But it’s also true what they say about death. You see it coming. You see it coming accompanied by all the moments of your life that led you to your very ending. Death comes in slow motion, even when you shoot a bullet.                 You weren’t sure how you felt when you saw the small piece of lead hitting the radiator behind Nemesis. Relief? Satisfaction? Pride? Maybe all those emotions tinted with a bit of fear? A fear of what’s waiting for you on the other side (if there’s one)? A fear of what’s going to happen to Chris after you’re gone? But what you were sure of was that you had just done right by him.               And so you embraced your death, welcomed it with opened arms as the flames went burning your body, killing you instantly and swiftly. A beautiful painless death. A good death.

                 Chris woke up days later, alone in a room at the Hôtel-Dieu Hospital, with a nasty headache and his chest tightly wrapped in white bandages. Fuzzy, wondering where he was and what had happened to him, it took him a few seconds to remember it all. The hotel. The beast. How you both had been attacked. “Y/N” He whispered your name and his eyes widened in fear and worry. Where were you?           Without thinking, he quickly got up from his bed with a wince of pain and started removing all the electrodes stuck to his chest as well as the needle deeply inserted in his arm. The machines around him started beeping furiously. But he couldn’t care less. He had to find you. He had to see if you were okay. He barely had time to take an unsteady step - his legs too shaky and weak to support his weight - before a nurse, alarmed by the long beep of the electrocardiogram, brutally entered the room. “Oh mon dieu, mais que faites-vous debout?” She screamed in French as she urged Chris to lie back on his bed. “Y/N” He just said and the woman frowned. “I need to find her.”                 “Find who?” She asked, thinking Chris was maybe rambling because of all the painkillers in his system. “Y/N. The woman who was with me. In the hotel.”                 The nurse barely listened to him as she was doing all she could to make him sit down. Luckily for her, Chris was still too fragile to resist her. Dizzy, he softly yet reluctantly laid back on his bed and the woman gently grabbed his hands in an attempt to reassure him and calm him down. “Sir, you fell from the second floor. You suffered a serious head injury, not counting your broken ribs. You must rest.”     “Not before I find Y/N. She was with me, in the hotel.” He repeated, struggling to leave his bed again. His brain couldn’t focus on anything else but you and the nurse understood she would not be able to keep Chris in the room if he continued writhing on his bed like that. “I need back up in room 126. It’s urgent.” She said through the phone without taking her eyes off Chris.   “No, you don’t understand! She’s maybe in danger.” He growled as loud as he could as he seized the handset from the nurse’s hand to place it back on the base unit. “Alright. Alright. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll …”                   “Where is Y/N?” Chris insisted, desperately begging for an answer.   “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m afraid you’re the only patient who was brought here after the hotel explosion.” She confessed with a confusion that proved her honestly.

Chris felt a sudden weight crushing his shoulder and chest. “Explosion?” Chris repeated. “What explosion? What are you talking about?”                 “You don’t remember?” Chris stopped moving. His eyebrows furrowed, he tried to remember an explosion or anything that could have resembled one. But he had no memory of that. All he could remember was the monstrous creature trying to kill him. And so for a second he dared imagine many different scenarios that all came to the same conclusion. If there had been an explosion then Umbrella was behind it. “What explosion?” He asked again through his gritted teeth and the door suddenly slammed open.        

Chris turned around to see a couple of nurses and a white-haired old man entering the room. Judging by his suit and his undeniable charisma, he was certainly no regular police officer or some local inspector. “Mister Redfield? My name is Adam Benford. I work for the US government. I’ll ask you to calm down.” Chris glared at him. Like hell he would, old fool.   “Not until you tell me where is Y/N Y/LN.” That probably looked like blackmail but he didn’t care. He wanted answer and he had the feeling that man had them.  “Leave us. Mister Redfield and I need to discuss about a classified matter” Benford declared and the  nurses left the room.                

From his bed, Chris watched the old man standing in the middle of his room, still like marble. “Miss Y/LN is dead.” Chris didn't know if it was the way Benford had dropped that terrible news, so cold and insensitive, or the news itself that muted him and paralysed him to the spot. But Chris could barely believe what he had just heard. You were dead? No. No. You couldn’t. You … A couple of tears escaped his brown eyes and went rolling along his cheeks as he felt his heart shatter in his chest. “How?” He dared ask, fearing it was his fault. “Killed in the hotel explosion four days ago. Gas leak. The heater in your room appeared to have exploded. At least that is the version Umbrella paid the French police to reveal. But you and I both know something else happened. Right, Mr Redfield?”         Chris didn’t answer, still trying to process the fact he had lost you, that you had certainly died because of him. And that guilt was too heavy for him to bear. He already had to carry the loss of his fellow S.T.A.R.S. members over his young shoulders. He wasn’t sure he would be able to carry yours as well.                     “Umbrella sent Nemesis after me. They gave it the order to chase and kill all the S.T.A.R.S members who had survived the mansion incident. It attacked me and Y/N.” And it killed her. “We need to call the RPD and warn them” The fact that Benford didn’t look surprised by the news or even a tiny bit astonished made Chris realise he knew all too well about Nemesis and its task.               “ No need. Nemesis was sent after Miss Valentine and Mister Vickers 3 days ago in Raccoon City.” Chris’s heart skipped a beat and forgot how to breathe for a while.               “ Are they …?” He couldn’t finish the question and he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear the answer either. He had felt enough death and pain for today.   “ Miss Valentine managed to survive. But Mister Vickers didn’t make it.”           “ Oh no.” Chris looked down. He could feel guilt growing inside of him and slowly drowning him. “I should have warn then. I should have done something.” And with guilt came anger and rage.         “You were unconscious. Plus it would have been impossible for you to reach Raccoon City in time.” Chris frowned, unsure what Benford meant by that and when he saw the man sit by his side he understood something extremely bad had happened. “Raccoon City was destroyed a couple of days ago.” What? “Nuclear strike ordered by the President in order to sanitize the city after a T-virus escaped and contaminated most of the inhabitants.”                

Horror and anger struck Chris like thunderbolt and he clenched his fists, digging his short nails in his skin as strongly as he could. The rage he was feeling right now was nothing in comparison to the one he had felt before. He hated Umbrella, now more than ever. He hated that fucking company so much he could a powerful thirst for vendetta eating him up from within. They had taken so much from him. His friends. His city. The woman he loved. They needed to pay.     “I know it’s a lot to take in as I know Umbrella is responsible for everything that happened to you, to your colleagues and to Raccoon City. Trust me I’ll make sure they won’t get away with it.” Benford looked convinced and pretty confident but that wasn’t enough to persuade Chris who didn’t know if he could trust the American Government any longer. After all, they had financed Umbrella’s research for years. The T-virus was made to serve their military purposes. “I’m started an Anti-Umbrella unit within the US.STRAT.COM and I’ve been collecting information among the Raccoon City survivors, Miss Valentine included, since the viral outbreak. But I need to know, Mister Redfield. Do you have any sort of information that would help us bring Umbrella to justice?”

But what choice did he have right now if not trusting that man? Chris had no way to fight a giant like Umbrella. He couldn’t do anything against them, not on his own. He was not strong enough. And as he noticed the red notebook on the nightstand beside him, he took a decision. “ Y/N left this notebook to take Umbrella down. I’m willing to give its entire content if, and only if, this notebook remains in my possession.” “You don’t trust me with that notebook, do you?” Benford frowned, trying to hide how vexed he was. Jill Valentine and Leon Kennedy had shown themselves more cooperative.                   “No, I don’t. But it’s not because you work for the Government. It’s because it’s the only thing I have left from Y/N and I want to keep it.” The old man sighed knowing he would not get anything else from Chris. The things you do for love.                   “ Well. I guess we have a deal. Mister Redfield. Now tell me. What’s you’re story?”

Y/N Y/LN’s notebook was used as strong evidence in the Raccoon Trials of 1998 that recognized the Umbrella Corporation guilty of all charges led against them. Even today, the notebook is still considered as a major source of information in the fighting against Tyrant-type BOWs. A commemorative plaque in Y/N’s honour can be found in the BSAA Headquarters in America. Chris Redfield puts flowers on it each time he can and he still owns Y/N's diary in his office. When he is asked about Y/N, he says he’ll “always remember as a hero, as a woman I loved, as the girl under her extra-large umbrella”.

#Chris Redfield #chris redfield x reader #resident evil #fan fiction

[ancientechos]

Hallow’s Eve

Emet-Selch/Arianna ♡ 3281 words ♡ eldritch au [modern au]

Did I...write even more...for eldritch AU...? Yes, yes I did. Proper fic coming...who knows when. My superpower is to write a lot about nothing.

Random little Halloween-themed fic! And another example of how I cannot do titles.

Has an appearance from @windup-dragoon Kiri and Hien.

Despite herself she --

Admittedly, very often, wonders if she’s too boring for her...very strange and impromptu roommate. Lover...? She supposes they are technically thus, at this point...

Though that is besides the, well, point.

It’s not as if they’re always home, though she admits they are...more often than not. Thus Arianna has taken to worrying she’s exceptionally dull to the eldritch creature...he’s simply too polite to say it.

(There is, of course, inherently something wrong with this assumption, but alas.)

“H-have you ever been to a party...?” The second the question finishes making its way past her lips, she regrets it -- it’s banal, not specific enough, absurd. Her suspicions are confirmed as Hades fixes her with a quiet, unimpressed stare. He plucks a grape from the fruit bowl before answering.

“Depends what sort of party, I suppose.”

Absentmindedly, she wonders what sort of “parties” he might have been privy to in the past...the only thing her mind can conjure is strangely fantastical images of odd creatures, one less humanoid than the next, eerie music --

She has to stop her mind from running off into the imaginary. Perhaps she’ll ask him later.

“Um -- w-what I mean is -- a -- ” The woman finds herself growing ever more anxious when she realises she doesn’t -- really -- have any point of comparison for what she wants to ask. For a moment, she fidgets her fingers together, then brushes a hand through a few strands of her hair. Her green gaze glances from her companion, still leaning casually against her kitchen counter, to the calendar on the wall in the hopes it might give her answers.

Unfortunately, it does not.

Somewhat blessedly, he does not interrupt her nervous fumblings as she struggles for words.This does not, however, stop her mind from being dangerously on the edge of wondering just how exasperated he must be --

“A-a p-party...?” Almost desperate to say anything at all, she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Yes?” She can practically see one of his eyebrows quirk without actually looking at him. “You mentioned a party already. I asked what kind.”

Never mind that the question had been decidedly implicit.

He sounds far more patient than she ever deserves, and she presses her palms to her face, hard enough that colours dance behind her eyelids. “Ah...” Why is she getting so worked up about this, in any case...?

“There’s nothing to be upset about.” Hades’ voice cuts through the fog and white noise threatening to overcome her. “We have all the time in the world. no?”

-- He’s completely right. She truly has not an inkling of an idea as to why this has made her so on edge. Is it the subject matter itself?

“Unless there was a party happening within the hour...”

“N-no, that’s not -- ” She’s responded before she can fully realise, with the wryness of his tone, that he’s being sarcastic. Of course she wouldn’t have asked him about something like this on such short notice. Slowly, she lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, her shoulders lowering from where they’d nearly surpassed the tips of her ears. What she wants to ask...

“What I mean is...a c-costume party...” She trails off as she pulls her thoughts together. “Some people...like to d-dress up as...strange creatures, o-or book characters...for parties. A-at this time of year.”

Not that she’s ever really gone to one. Twining a strand of curled hair about her right index finger, she finally turns to look at him curiously. Already, she can feel the strange, harsh energy from earlier dissipating simply from being able to speak properly.

“Mm. I suppose I’ve been to one of those before. Though not really any in the mortal realm, of course...” There’s a pause as he regards her. “I suppose that means there would be a great deal of people there...and you wanted to go regardless?”

She has to bite her lip before she can mumble a reflexive no. “I-I just thought...perhaps...you would be interested...”

“Hmm.” The sigh he exhales almost has her thinking he wants to reject her offer. But -- “You said people like to dress up? Maybe I could go as my true form...or something close to it.” There’s an almost malicious smirk that curls his lip, his head tilting slightly to the side. Arianna tries to ignore the way her heart thunders treacherously in her chest and absently prays the lighting is too dark to notice her nonsensical blush.

“I-I don’t think it would be a good idea to go in your...ah...o-other form...” She pauses, teeth sinking into her lower lip. “Wouldn’t you simply scare everyone away...?” She doesn’t need to be told twice to remember that...incident from before.

“That’s the point, is it not? You could enjoy yourself.”

She is not quite sure whether she’s meant to be touched or concerned, and thus settles for wavering uncertainly between the two.

“W-well, regardless...” She exhales nervously. “I think...if you wanted to go, it might be...best to go in...ah, c-costumes...?”

“Oh?” The smirk hasn’t faded for even a moment. “And what do you propose we’d go as?”

The we has her heart fluttering stupidly again, for no reason, as she brushes her fingers through her hair once more. “Um...that...” Blinking and shaking her head to try to clear it, she regards him with what is meant to be a critical eye, but simply gets caught up in his gaze again. “Ah...”

-- Now that she isn’t an anxiously flustered mess, he seems perfectly content with simply flustering her further. Pushing himself away from the counter, he approaches her to smirk fondly down at her. When she simply proves all the more wordless, he brushes a finger gently along her cheek.

“How about an angel and a demon?”

To say she would have expected a suggestion from him would be a lie...not to mention...the suggestion itself...? It’s enough to have her blinking up at him blankly, her nervousness for the moment forgotten.

“I-I suppose...but...h-how do you know what an angel looks like, anyway...?” Curiously, she eyes him. She can’t imagine he’s ever done much...mortal reading. Or maybe he has? Well, she isn’t home -- or even awake -- the entire time. She supposes it’s perfectly possible and within his abilities for him to have picked up any of the numerous books she has, or to even have perused the titles elsewhere. But something so specific as an angel and a demon? It’s an odd thing to think about...

“Hmm? Oh, that’s easy.” There’s a smirk on his lips as he casually slings an arm about her shoulders, leaning in close. Somehow, she manages not to turn away despite the blush threatening to overtake her yet again. “There’s one right in front of me, isn’t there?”

It takes a moment for the words to process, and even longer for the precise meaning to dawn upon her. But when they do --

She wouldn’t be surprised if the heat that radiates from her face could run a generator.

“Y-you -- !” she stammers uselessly, turning away from him and smacking a hand to her face. Her fingers feel cold. Though she attempts to pull from him entirely, he holds her fast against him, amused.

“Yes? What about me?”

She ducks underneath his arm to avoid answering him, rubbing her palms against her cheeks as if she could simply push the sensation out of them.

“Am I to take it that you agree with my idea, then?”

“N-no -- ! Definitely not!”

________

Well -- that was what she had said...

But clearly her conviction had not been strong enough, given her current...predicament.

It had taken a concerning amount of time to find an angel costume that simply...wasn’t too short, but finally she’d managed to find one with a skirt that went at the very least past her knees, while Hades had loitered about the rest of the costumes shop, occasionally remarking this or that or giving extraordinarily unhelpful advice.

“What about this one?”

He, of course, goes ignored.

The house they’re standing in front of now seems tall and imposing, though doubtless only to her. Various decorations and a myriad of lights are strung up about it. The owners had had no qualms to spare coin for making the place fit for Halloween. There’s even a fog machine, judging by the mist blowing across the front yard and obscuring the door.

She’s already not very enthused about entering. Alas, the same cannot be said for her companion.

Whilst Arianna is dressed mainly in white -- with gold accents and, of all things, gold glitter littering the skirt portion of her dress -- and a black headband to allow her halo to blend with her hair, her date (?) wears a mainly black suit with dark red horns. She can’t see his headband from this angle, which leads her to believe he must have simply...willed the outfit into existence, or something. She can’t remember him throwing any such thing into her cart, either.

-- She supposes he looks nice.

Apparently sensing whatever discomfort she exudes, Hades’ grip upon her hand tightens slightly, and he draws her closer to him.

“You are aware we don’t have to go, yes?”

“I am, but -- I thought...you might want to go, so...”

Certainly, as he’s fond of reminding her over their telepathic link, there’s no especial reason they need to be going. They could just as easily turn and go home...and yet she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t giving him enough of what he deserves. Surely he would like for more than to simply lounge about her apartment, or...whatever it is he does when she’s away.

And perhaps a part of her is curious if she truly can do this.

Arianna allows him to lead her past the gate, up into the odourless pale fog that masks the door, and then through it. The closer they get to the doorway, the more loudly the music reverberates against her ears. Ah -- her least favourite sort of “party”, then...

Not that she’s really been to many --

Inside are all sorts of people, most dressed in costumes with a few occasional individuals apparently left out, or simply not wishing to invest the time in their get up. There’s clearly food and drink available further within, and the decorations from without continue on in inside the house. Fake cobwebs with tiny plastic spiders, glowing pumpkins and skulls...and a bit of the fog from outside.

And of course there’s hardly any shortage of dramatic and multi-coloured lighting.

Most of the guests are milling about, some far too close for Arianna’s comfort Unfortunately, her already clear awkwardness isn’t especially evident to the more inebriated partygoers.

“Hey pretty lady.” A young man in a some sort of zombie mask apparently isn’t discouraged by the presence of the even taller man next to her. “Wanna go grab a drink?”

As soon as she focuses on him, her gaze snaps to his shoes, then away; he’s about to try to say something else, though with one derisive stare from Hades and he instantaneously shuts his mouth and slinks away like a defeated pup.

“Hmph. They’re like animals.”

Arianna doesn’t really want to ask him precisely what he means, focused on trying to regain her toppled equilibrium. The sudden approach and the already crowded atmosphere is doing little to quell her flickering anxiety. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here after all.

Her other free hand lifts to grasp at his wrist, her gaze firmly upon the ground as she hunches in on herself, entire body tense.

“Are you sure you don’t want to leave? Perhaps -- ”

“Oh, Arianna! You came!”

The other masculine voice cuts through the white noise and Hades’ words; she recognises it immediately. She glances nervously at Hien’s boots as he comes to a halt a little ways away; there’s cloth beside his, like a robe, or -- 

“I didn’t expect -- I see Hades is here, as well...” Hien trails off a little, perhaps noticing the dire state of the dark-haired woman. “Shall we go somewhere a little quieter? I know a spot -- the hallway’s not as crowded.”

She doesn’t need any other amount of convincing; Hades leads her as Hien and Kirishimi direct the two of them into a darkly lit hallway. Whilst the music here is somewhat muted, the decorations continue along the ceiling, winding over the doors.

It feels far less claustrophobic, however. Perhaps most of it is to do with being surrounded by friends instead. Or Hades standing in the entranceway to the larger room, blocking out most of the rabble.

Leaning against the wall, her death grip upon him slowly lessens as she exhales. Her shoulders slump as some of the sickly tension evaporates. Whilst she’s not entirely in her element yet, things feel -- slightly better. At least better enough that she can try to look up.

She’s somewhat tempted to ask Hien if something is wrong with his eye, until she recalls that they’re all wearing costumes. His appears to be something of a pirate, complete with an eyepatch; though the lighting is dim if not entirely coloured, his outfit seems to be composed of yellows, or perhaps orange. As for Kirishimi --

The woman looks so natural in the -- kimono? -- that for a second it hadn’t even registered that she’s wearing a “costume” at all. She still isn’t really certain it looks like a costume --

And the tails are certainly not a fabrication. Though she supposes she can get away with it at a party.

Hades chooses that moment to gesture with a sigh.

“And you wouldn’t even let me come like that.”

“Your case is a little bit...different...”

Hien’s expression is friendly once he notices Arianna looking up at him.

“Feeling any better? I could get you a drink, if you like...?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the woman gives a small nod. Whilst she feels bad for monopolising the man’s time, her throat undeniably feels a little parched. Once he slips past Hades, the kitsune takes the opportunity to speak.

“Yer lookin’ cute, Ari!”

Feeling her face heat up, Arianna directs her gaze away, glancing toward the ground; after a few seconds, she takes a peek to the wider room, then the other side. With no one else -- really in earshot, perhaps she can manage --

“Ah...tha-thank you...you...too...”

Pressing her fingers to her cheek, she closes her eyes as she tries to calm herself, feeling stupidly childish for no real reason. Though she supposes, perhaps, this is childish; what sort of person can’t even converse...?

“But yer looking as slimy as ever.”

“And I can tell you hardly put any effort into your ‘costume’. You’ve just gone as yourself.”

“Ya tellin’ me yer not some kinda demon? As if I’d believe that. And that suit’s just what ya always wear.”

“Not at all, the cut and style are entirely different. But I wouldn’t expect anything more of a mutt.”

Paradoxically, their hissing argument somehow manages to put her at further ease. Perhaps because it’s a norm of what those two always do when they’re forced together in a single room; no matter the occasion or the reason, they’ve never seemed to be able to get along for longer than a few minutes at a time, and even that is being generous...

See? Everything is normal. That is what she tries to tell herself.

Except for, well, everything else about the situation, but if she just focuses on Hades’ shoulders, perhaps she can pretend nothing is too out of the ordinary about this.

Hien returns a few minutes later with a clear glass of water in his hand; he gives it to Arianna with an encouraging smile, and she takes it gratefully. The glass is cool in her hand, and for a moment she wishes she had something warmer, but it’ll do. Lifting it to her lips, she begins to sip as her companions break out into quiet conversation and half-hearted jabs --

A loud sound, like a foghorn, sheers through even the music; a few people scream. Arianna full-on nearly jumps in place, her vaguely settled nerves fraying like unravelling threads. The blood in her veins turns to ice along with the coldness of the water spilling down her front, and she lets go entirely of Hades’ hand to press her palm to her ear. It’s a wonder she doesn’t let go of the glass entirely -- or that her grip doesn’t simply break it. Instead, she presses it to her other ear as she curls away from the entranceway, her mind struggling at a mile a minute.

There’s few things she’s consciously afraid of. Loud, sudden noises are one such thing.

The tiny noise that had managed to spill from her lips earlier dies, her throat constricting painfully. The dimly lit hallway seems to flicker and swim before her eyes; she squeezes them shut as she tries to calm herself.

“Ari? You okay?”

Their voices sound far away, as if they speak to her from under water or glass. She can’t respond, not even with a movement; her head spins like a kaleidoscope and, dimly, she thinks to herself yet again how stupidly childlike she must look to them all. Especially...

“I am afraid everyone here has overstayed their welcome...”

If there’s one voice that cuts through the noise, it’s his, always his.

But what is he...?

“ -- Ha -- ” Her voice falters in her throat the moment she tries to speak out and grasp at his arm; he easily slips from her and into the crowd of giggling and chatting partygoers, their volume spiraling into a crescendo. She still feels ill, and his sudden disappearance does a poor job of calming her. Was he talking about her...?

There’s a sudden scream; the entire crowd stops stock still. Then pandemonium erupts as chaos consumes the whole house, a thundering of voices and footsteps as the guests throw themselves out whatever doors and windows they can reach.

It’s not difficult to see why. In the centre of the room -- and taking up more space with every second -- is...Hades, in his eldritch form of course, the same one she’d seen when she’d first met him.

The house is deserted in less than a minute; only Arianna, Kirishimi, and Hien remain. The kitsune’s ears are instinctively flattened to her head, tails stiff, her arms unconsciously thrown out in front of her companion. Arianna thinks she can hear something like a growl from within her throat. The devourer of souls seems to have no issue with his current appearance, arms spanning the whole living area.

“Will ya put that away already? Ya stink like the damn void.”

“And you smell like wet dog. Nothing new about that, however.”

With a sigh, the eldritch’s limbs and size retreats; shadows envelop him, and finally he stands in the middle of the abandoned glasses and shattered plates in his humanoid flesh.

“Much better now, eh? I said you’d finally be able to enjoy yourself.”

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #emet selch #emet selch x wol #emet selch x arianna #arianna rowen #arianna #hien #kirishimi #fanfic #my writing #mine #other verses #eldritch horror au #w: the dreamer and the architect #did i just write over 1k words of them discussing the semantics of a party? #yes yes i did #i have problems #sorry for murdering kirien #tw: panic attack

[im-fairly-whitty]

The Witcher Wolf 2: Geralt’s POV

It's been two weeks since Geralt drove Jaskier away from him on that mountain top and Geralt's been doing his best not to think about it by accepting every contract he comes across. But when a job goes badly he find himself cursed into the form of an injured wolf and is then saved by none other than Jaskier himself, who has no idea that the animal he's taken under his wing is his own witcher.

Geralt must now try to alert Jaskier to his real situation and adjust to his new life traveling with the bard, learning several hard but very much needed lessons along the way.

Thank you all for your lovely support and comments on [Part One]! I was going to make part two another oneshot but it keeps getting longer and it feel right to break it into two chapters so here you are, extra content for you all. :)

I wanted to try to focus on scenes that happened in between the ones in Jaskier’s POV so be sure to go back and read that one if you haven't already so you can see where the timelines weave through each other.

Chapter 1

“Good girl Roach, good girl.” Geralt said, panting as he patted the horse’s neck, leaning heavily against her side.

The mare tossed her head, ears still twitching nervously toward the massive carcass toppled in the middle of their camp. Geralt’s eyes stung as the cat elixir slowly wore off, but he could still see faint wisps of steam rising from the hot spilt blood into the cold night air.

Geralt heaved another deep breath and pushed himself off Roach, straightening his back with a crack as he tiredly made his way to the felled creature to get a closer look now that the ugly thing wasn't lunging for his jugular.

And it really was quite ugly, some twisted amalgamation that could have been part boar judging by the tusks, part griffon by the sleek winged body, perhaps even part spider by the dozens of glossy jet-black eyes scattered across its face. At first glance in the dark he’d thought it might have been a fiend, but that assumption hadn’t lasted more than an instant.

At Geralt’s age it was very rare for him to see a creature he didn’t know the name of and even rarer for it to ambush him in his own campsite. He didn’t like to think how close a call it had really been this time, he was lucky he’d already been preparing for the hunt or else it might have been him lying on the ground. Geralt had been accepting any contract he saw for the last two weeks ever since the dragon hunt, eager to get his mind off...things...but with this one he’d assumed the villager’s descriptions had been laced with exaggeration.

They quite clearly hadn’t.

“It reeks of magic.” Geralt said to Roach, placing a boot on the monster’s side and heaving it over with a hefty shove. “Whatever it is, it didn’t come about naturally, that’s for sure. But not something that’s been cursed either I think. I’d wager this was some lunatic’s pet project, magically bred from the start.”

“More pet than project, I can assure you.”

Geralt spun, his sword unsheathed and leveled in an instant, his sword tip pointed at the man who’d appeared at the edge of the clearing behind him. And he must have literally appeared out of thin air, otherwise Geralt’s heightened witcher senses would have detected him a mile off in this state, the dregs of his hunting potions still flowing through him.

“Care to elaborate?” Geralt asked warily, shifting his stance slightly as Roach wisely startled away from them, taking cover in the thick trees beyond the clearing.

The man wore what looked like two expensive outfits of very different and clashing styles mixed into one ensemble, all useless ornamentation and rich textures in swathes of periwinkle and burnt orange. Laced in between were chains dripping with bones, trinkets, and what looked suspiciously like human fingers. Geralt wasn’t sure at all how the man managed even to move in such a cluttered get-up, but his frantically humming medallion was more than enough to let him know that the man wouldn’t have to move at all in order to pose a deadly threat. That and the fact that the man’s scent matched the slain creature’s.

“I’d say the time for elaboration is far past.” The man said, something between anger and grief coloring his voice.

Geralt blinked and the man was kneeling beside the creature, stroking its bristly gold hide as if it were a beloved housecat. Geralt’s too-slow heartbeat picked up a bit at that show of speed, he hadn’t even seen the man move at all.

“You a mage?” Geralt asked, trying to cast his mind back to if he’d ever seen Yennifer display the same ability, but each mage’s favorite tricks seemed to be determined more by their personal style rather than any one curriculum.

“Don’t be crass.” The man said, squinting hatefully at Geralt. “I have far too much self respect to be counted among those political chess players. I much prefer caring for my pets, like poor Truskawka here who you’ve slaughtered. Do you have any idea how many generations it’s taken to perfect her bloodline? And now look at my poor strawberry, cut down in cold blood, just before she was about to have a litter too.”

“Your poor strawberry weighs four tons and has been disemboweling travelers for weeks now.” Geralt said dryly. “Should have kept her on a shorter leash if you really cared for her.”

“I’m not about to take advice on caring from you White Wolf.” The man said, looking Geralt right in the eyes in a way that made a sticky cold feeling drip down his spine. “Your kind only know how to harm.”

With a certain collection of songs ragingly popular across the continent it wasn’t unusual for Geralt to be recognized by his medallion and white hair alone, but he had a creeping feeling that somehow this man didn’t know his moniker because of a tavern tune. He also had the feeling that he somehow knew more about him than just his title.

“So if you’re not a mage then what are you?” Geralt asked, raising his sword a bit, quickly tiring of this increasingly unsettling conversation.

“Angry.” The man said, glaring at Geralt and snapping his fingers in a blinding flash of white light.

***

Geralt was no stranger to passing out in battle—it was something you got used to when you made a profession of competing with monsters to see who could lose the most blood last—but he had never woken up running before.

At first he thought he was dreaming as he slowly filtered back to consciousness, his senses gradually coming back to him as air whipped past him, a dirt road under his feet, but suddenly everything clicked back into place and he skidded to a stop. His chest heaved as he looked around, blinking hard to try and get the last tendrils of grogginess out of his mind.

The sorcerer. He growled as he scented the air, remembering what had knocked him unconscious.

The first rays of sunlight were starting to scrape up across the grey clouds on the horizon, signaling a dawn that meant he must have been wandering blindly for hours by now. The blasted magician must have hit him with some unusually strong spell to disorient him like that, most magic simply rolled off a witcher, but the man had seemed extremely upset at his “pet” having been dispatched. Geralt just had to hurry his way back before he-

Geralt stumbled as he took a step forward, his legs suddenly feeling strangely uncoordinated. He fell on his face, rolling onto his shoulder with a growl that suddenly sounded entirely different than his usual ones.

He looked at his hands and blinked in shock at the large white paws he found instead. He twisted around to get a look at the rest of him...

...only to see the massive white furred body of a wolf.

Geralt sat frozen in the middle of the dirt road, feeling his ears swivel back in canine shock as he struggled to process his discovery.

Well. He’d been right about it being a strong spell he’d been hit with.

A very strong spell.

Geralt got to his (four) feet and shook himself, wincing only momentarily at how disarmingly full bodied the shake was. He was a witcher, he’d seen hundreds of transformations far more gruesome and unsettling than this. He could handle a sorcerer with a sense of irony, he just had to find him and either barter or threaten his way to a cure.  

He sniffed the air, nose...er...snout scrunching at how different it felt. He seemed to still have his unnaturally sharp witcher senses, which was a relief, but it still felt different. Somehow. Like...like when he had to buy a new riding saddle. It was still technically a saddle, but different feeling all the same.

He snorted at his own metaphor, the noise coming out in a huffing sneeze. He could practically feel Jaskier’s laughter at both his metaphor clumsiness and at him discovering in that moment that wolves did not roll their eyes, his head instead tipping up and to the side a bit when he tried.

Leave the metaphors to me Geralt, can’t have you putting me out of business with your unprecedented lexical brilliance.  

Geralt huffed again, ears flicking back at imaginary Jaskier’s teasing. He scented the air again, searching for the sorcerer’s scent as he did his best not to think about the bard, where he was, or if he was safe. Something he’d gotten in the habit of trying very hard not to think about for the last two weeks.

Besides, he told himself yet again as he trotted down the road, following his own scent trail back the way he’d come, in the end it really was for the best that they’d split up. Jaskier was always annoying him and getting in the way, and...playing that lute incessantly...and...and getting hurt...and...

Geralt’s ear flicked as he heard footsteps approach and he lifted his head to see several men emerge from the woods. They were laughing and chatting amongst themselves, armed with bows and arrows, one had a brace of rabbits slung over his shoulder. An early morning hunting party returning from a successful forage no doubt.

They seemed harmless enough. Being a witcher meant Geralt had built up a sense for what people would end up causing him trouble or not, and with these men he could easily just-

Wait. No.

Geralt remembered the vitally important and brand-new piece of his daily social puzzle an instant too late, and one of the men spotted him.

“Wolf!” The man shouted, knocking an arrow at his bow with expert speed.

Geralt threw himself sideways into the bushes, hearing the whistling hiss and thwack of an arrow lancing into the dirt where he’d stood. He gathered up his limbs as quickly as he could and dashed into the undergrowth, pelting away from the road and the hunters.

He bared his teeth at himself as he ran. Stupid stupid stupid. He was a wolf, an animal. Had he really subconsciously assumed the men might simply ignore him with uneasy sideways glances like they did normally?

People barely tolerated him when he could speak, there was going to be no thin mercy or stiff civility extended to him in this state. He didn’t even have weapons to fight back with. No elixirs or magic signs or even opposable thumbs to save him now. If he didn’t find the sorcerer soon he was going to-

A white hot pain slammed into his shoulder, sending him tumbling into the bushes and sliding haphazardly down a rocky embankment. He gritted down a yelp of pain as he slammed against boulders at the bottom of the dry streambed, decades of training pushing him down and close to the deepest shadows of the boulders as he forced his frantic breathing quieter.

“I think I hit ‘em!” A voice shouted from above. “Dunno where the bastard went, but I swear I hit ‘em.”

“You? Hitting a running wolf?” Another voice guffawed, the bushes rustling. “Your head’s gotten too big from your flask.”

“Shove off, didn’t I get two rabbits this morning?”

“Only because one was old enough to practically roll over on your boots.”

Geralt’s ears twitched as the laughing voices slowly moved away, the sound of crashing brush receding as the hunters took their conversation back to the main road.

As his adrenaline started to ebb Geralt could feel the pain in his shoulder far more clearly, the burning ache creeping across him as he turned to get his first look at it in the growing light of the morning. He knew it was an arrow, had had arrows in him before, but it still didn’t make it much easier to see the blasted thing sprouting from his shoulder.

Especially since he was realizing with a sinking feeling that he had no idea how he was going to get it out.

He could feel a doggish whine spring to his lips as he pushed himself to his feet and accidentally put weight on his bad foreleg, but he choked it back out of habit. He was still in the middle of nowhere with enemies nearby, he couldn’t do anything to further expose himself to danger until he was somewhere safe.

Geralt felt his tail tuck between his legs a little as he looked around, scenting the unfamiliar air. There was certainly no chance of him getting back up the steep embankment, it was going to be enough of a chore to even walk at all across even the uneven rocky stream bed.

He had no way to get back to the sorcerer, no medical supplies, no equipment or way to get to a town where he would be able to find any of those things. Not in this state.

He grit his teeth as he forced himself to take an unsteady step forward. He was a witcher, he could do this. He’d survived this long, hadn’t he? All he had to do was focus on surviving one more hour, and then one more hour after that. That’s how he was going to get through this.  

It took some doing to figure out walking on three legs after only having just managed with four, but soon Geralt had picked up an unsteady pace that was getting him across the riverbed in search of cover. He was going to survive this, he was going to be fine.

***

Geralt had now gone three days with that bloody arrow in his shoulder and had long since stopped pretending that things were going to be fine.

He’d managed to wander his way out of the stream bed, had managed to narrowly avoid some drowners he normally could have dispatched without breaking a sweat, and had managed to chew off half the arrow shaft in his exhausted frustration at not being able to treat his own stupid wound which had definitely only made things worse for himself.

Not that he really cared too much anymore though, because at this point he’d logically thought through his situation and had begun coming to terms with the fact that this was was how it ended for Geralt of Rivia. As a wolf he was completely cut off from both outside help and being able to help himself. No one would come looking for a witcher who had last been seen two weeks ago, he’d gone long months before without seeing acquaintances.

He curled up a little tighter in the clearing he’d settled in a few hours ago, the never-ending pain in his shoulder dully pulsing along with his heartbeat. He knew his witcher mutagens were valiantly fighting back infection as well as they could, but he wasn’t invincible. After three days with a wound that kept opening and bleeding around the arrow shaft he knew it was probably only a matter of hours before something deep and deadly finally set in, and that would be the end of it.

The only silver lining he’d been able to find was that as a wolf four days without food or water hadn’t taken the same toll it normally would have. Not that it kept him from forlornly scenting the prey animals that trailed through the brush around him, maddeningly close and completely out of reach.

Geralt stared at the ground, head resting on his useless wolf paws.

He missed Roach, having been unable to stop worrying about her being left alone in the woods with the psychopath who’d cursed him. Hopefully she’d at least stayed far enough away that he’d ignored her.

And he missed Jaskier.

Geralt let out a long whine, having given up being quiet a day or two ago. He never liked to admit it to himself, but as the years had gone by Geralt had come to enjoy his times traveling alone less and less.

As gruffly as he treated his bard sometimes he always felt more lonely than usual whenever they parted ways, somehow missing the man’s incessant prattling and singing and bothering and smiling and interfering. There was no way to count how many wounds Jaskier had stitched up for Geralt over the last twenty-two years too. His careful, even stitching and gentle chastising left far less of a scar than Geralt’s rough and hasty work always did.

And now the last time he ever saw his bard would be that awful day on the mountain, something that still made his stomach sour whenever he accidentally forgot not to think about it. Of the way Jaskier’s face had fallen. Of the immediate regret Geralt had felt, but that he’d smothered down under his anger. Of the way he hadn’t immediately tracked Jaskier back down the mountain when the bard hadn’t returned by the next morning.

Because for the first time Jaskier had actually left after Geralt had snapped at him. And how could Geralt follow after him if he’d really left?

But it didn’t matter anymore, because-

Geralt startled into a surprised snarl as his flagging senses warned him of danger too late, his attacker already nearly falling on top of him. He lurched painfully to the side, a shot of adrenaline coursing through him as he spun to see...

...Jaskier?

Geralt blinked in shock as Jaskier tumbled to the ground across the small clearing from him, yelling and clutching at his lute like a shield, looking as surprised at Geralt was.

“Sorry, very terribly sorry to bother you.” Jaskier said weakly, smelling of fear. “I was trying to find someplace to camp and I was wandering and wasn’t looking where I was going and I didn’t mean- Really that arrow business looks like it hurts, how long have you had that nasty thing stuck in you?”

Geralt’s brain scrambled to process what was happening. Jaskier was here and talking to him normally, did he recognize him despite his canine form? Had Yennifer somehow sensed what had happened and sent Jaskier to fetch him?

But no, it couldn’t be, not with the fear he could smell on Jaskier. Jaskier was frightened all the time, but Geralt had never smelled Jaskier’s fear directed at him before. It made him feel sick. Jaskier must really think he was just a regular wolf.  

Perhaps it was the fact that Geralt had just resigned himself to death only to be shocked back to hope, or the fact he’d gone four days without food or water, or just the surreal feeling of it all, but instead of reacting intelligently he found himself just watching the bard, tucking his aching wounded leg closer.

“Say you’re not bad for a wolf.” Jaskier said, his voice getting softer as he started to edge closer. “What if I took a look at-”

Geralt’s habitual annoyance with the bard resurfaced all at once, resulting in a growl that stopped Jaskier’s approach. What on earth was he doing? If Geralt really was a wild injured animal then his current behavior would be the perfect way to get his face bitten off. How Jaskier survived when Geralt wasn’t around to yank him back from poor choices was truly beyond his comprehension. If Geralt could speak right now he’d be getting the lecture of his life.

But Jaskier, being Jaskier, was of course stupidly undeterred, instead keeping his voice puppy soft and high pitched as he rambled on, even digging some dried rabbit meat out of his pouch and tossing it to Geralt.

For a moment Geralt was tempted to mock lunge at the bard, give him a bit of a scare to try and teach him some badly needed self-preservation. Teach him to stay away from things that would only harm him.

…just like he’d done on the mountain?

The uncomfortable realization jolted enough common sense into him that he ate the rabbit jerky without protest and lay still, allowing Jaskier to approach. Larger concerns about Jaskier’s sense of danger aside, Geralt was not a real wolf, and he did very badly need help. If Jaskier had found him and was willing to provide that, then Geralt would be a fool not to shut up and accept it.

“That’s it, there’s a good boy.” Jaskier said gently, getting close enough to pet him, which Geralt endured long-sufferingly. “You know I’m not sure you’re much of a wolf at all. There’s no way I’d still have both my hands at this point if you were really wild. For which I thank you by the way, playing the lute one-handed isn’t a skill I have much interest in picking up. You act more like some kind of massive dog, did you have a human family that raised you? Have you been abandoned by your person?”

Geralt still smelled fear, but not nearly as strong as Jaskier’s curiosity and excitement now. The fool was probably already planning a song about this.

Geralt growled at him. Just get on with it already.

“You know you remind me very much of a friend of mine.” Jaskier said with a wry smile that quickly dropped away. “Or, acquaintance I suppose, he never did anything but growl either. In fact you’re probably much more in tune with your emotions than he is I’ll bet, although most rocks probably are if I’m being strictly honest. The man’s really a complete imbecile.”

Geralt snarled, tired and insulted. Did Jaskier bad mouth him behind his back to every woodland creature he met? It was no secret Geralt wasn’t as outwardly emotional or articulate as some people, gods knew Jaskier had never hesitated to tell him so. Albeit in far more teasing terms than this.

“Alright, so here’s my terrible plan.” Jaskier said, ignoring his snarl entirely. As usual. “I’m going to try and remove this arrow, which is going to hurt terribly, and then I’m going to patch you up. I’d be extremely grateful if you didn’t dismember me in any way while I do, but if you can’t help yourself I suppose that’s fair.” He shrugged. “I’m not in a very self-preserving mood at the moment, so I suppose a final act of misguided heroism isn’t the worst way to go. The last white wolf I hung around mauled me emotionally, so actually it would be terribly poetic if you did finish the job physically.”

Geralt’s growl trailed off at that. “Mauled” was a bit harsh... Geralt had gotten angry, had taken out his anger on Jaskier unfairly yes, after two weeks of regret Geralt was willing to admit that. But Jaskier’s wry tone of voice wasn’t the kind he used when he was exaggerating for dramatic effect.

Had Geralt been able to speak he probably still wouldn’t have, choosing to sidestep the uncomfortable emotion. Thankfully as a wolf he didn’t have to choose, instead focusing on sitting still and quiet as Jaskier finally finally set to work removing the arrow from his shoulder and treating it, rambling the entire time as he always did when he helped patch up Geralt. Geralt was too focused on gritting his teeth against the pain to hear most of what Jaskier was saying, but found himself grateful for the familiar chatter nonetheless.

“There we go.” Jaskier said as he finished wrapping the wound. “Nothing like impromptu feral veterinary care to get the old heart pumping, eh?”

Geralt sighed quietly, exhaustion and relief sweeping through him to finally have the wound cared for. He wished he could mutter his customary “thanks.”

“You’re sulking.” Jaskier accused, petting his head.

Geralt huffed, shaking off the patronizing hand. He was not sulking, he was tired. And a wolf.

“Yes you are,” Jaskier insisted with a smile. “I know that look anywhere. Probably terribly embarrassing to be the king of the forest and have to accept help from a lowly human bard eh? Well I suppose wolves aren’t really the king, not if there’s griffins or something about.”

Geralt stared at him, all kinds of blunt corrections about biologically correct monster food chain structures running uselessly through his head. Instead his annoyance had to be communicated by shifting himself to face away from the bard and his obnoxious declarations.

“That settles it.” Jaskier declared as he started to gather sticks, evidently unbothered by Geralt’s huffing. “I’m calling you Geralt Junior. The both of you would get along splendidly in your stubborn grumpiness.”

Geralt looked up. He was Geralt, if he could just get Jaskier to realize that.

“Geralt Junior? You like that name?” Jaskier asked with a grin, seeing his reaction.

Geralt hauled himself to his feet. His shoulder was already feeling better as it started to mend in earnest, but not fast enough, making him stumble when he tried walking toward Jaskier.

“Whoa whoa hey, settle.” Jaskier said quickly, dropping his armful of sticks and kneeling beside him, carefully pushing him back down. “Lay down, stay. You shouldn’t be walking any more tonight, you’ve got to heal alright? Lay down boy, do you know commands?”

Geralt stayed down with a growl, hiding his nose under his paws in frustration.

“That’s right, you go back to sulking, Geralt Junior.” Jaskier said happily, evidently none the wiser as he tried to pet Geralt’s head again.

Geralt shook his hand off, trying to focus on said sulking. If he was going to get Jaskier to realize it was really him he was going to have to try harder.

***

Geralt woke up long before Jaskier did and decided to celebrate his shoulder already feeling far better by scratching around in the ashes of the fire. It was messy, but by the time Jaskier woke up he’d managed to scratch out a decently legible “Geralt” in charcoal across the ground.

Not legible enough though apparently, since the bard of course barely even glanced at his work as he cheerfully greeted him upon waking. Geralt felt fully justified in his sulking after that, sticking around only long enough for his bandages to be removed before trotting off into the trees to find a stream for a much needed swim, not having bathed since before slaying the beast that started this whole mess nearly a week ago.

The bath ended up lifting his spirits far more than anticipated, the ashes and blood finally gone and his fur coat drying to an ivory shine in the summer sun. His upswing in mood definitely also had to do with the fact that the pain in his shoulder was quickly fading and that he was no longer hopeless and alone.

It was easy to keep tabs on Jaskier’s noisy progress down the road throughout the day, making it simple enough for Geralt to keep nearby as he wandered the woods. Now that he was finally able to move freely again it only made sense that he take a day on his own to really get used to how this new body worked.

By the time evening arrived Geralt was capable enough to hunt down a couple rabbits with no weapon but his teeth on his way back to Jaskier for the night, and the look of delighted surprise he got for it nearly made the last four days of pain worth it.

“So you’re not sick of me after all, huh?” Jaskier grinned. “I’m truly flattered you know.”

Geralt allowed himself a single tail wag in place of a smile as he dropped the rabbits at the bard’s feet. Had Jaskier actually thought he’d gone? That he wasn’t going to come back for him?

The silly bard.

***

Geralt was used to entering towns and villages with a sense of cautious unease, a lifetime of being a Witcher having taught him the hard way to be on guard around humans, but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been afraid like he was as he went into town with Jaskier the next day.

Perhaps it was some element of animal caution that came with his new form that had him so on edge as he stuck to his bard’s side, but mostly it was the knowledge that he was literally helpless if something went wrong.

As a Witcher he could bully his way through most trouble with a stern look at best and his twin swords at worst, but as a wolf the only defense he had against the wary eyes of the villagers around him was Jaskier’s reassuring presence and the “collar” around his neck. If something went wrong Geralt wouldn’t even be able to defend himself without putting Jaskier in danger of retaliation. There would be no galloping off on Roach this time, whatever happened would result in Jaskier taking the full consequences.

And yet Jaskier still pressed on, letting Geralt even come into the inn with him and vouching for his character despite not at all knowing that Geralt wasn’t really a wild animal after all. All in all the bard’s behavior was reckless and stupid, this kind of thing never would have been allowed had Geralt been a person, but as it was he could only be grateful for it. He’d die before admitting that the thought of being left out in the yard where any number of humans could take another shot at him while defenseless terrified him. The least he could do to show his gratitude was to shoulder his pride and play along with Jaskier’s plan, acting as tame and doggish as he knew how in order to gain the innkeeper's approval.

And it worked, the innkeeper handed over a room key and Jaskier was soon leading them to their room, dumping their things on the low bed and smelling of as much relief as Geralt felt.

“Well it’ll be supper time soon, so I’d better head downstairs to earn some coin.” Jaskier said, unpacking his lute from its case and tuning a few strings. “It might be best for you to stay up here since I don’t know how many people will be around tonight.”

Geralt got to his feet from where he’d been lying by the fireplace, leaning against Jaskier’s leg and looking up at him as pleadingly as he knew how. He’d noticed himself becoming far more outwardly expressive than normal, but with no other form of communication available to him he had no other choice. Monosyllabic grunts giving way to overstated body language to get his point across in ways Jaskier would hopefully understand.

“...or you can come down with me.” Jaskier said with a wry smile at his behavior, petting his head. “Really Geralt Junior, I had no idea wolves were so clingy. I certainly wouldn’t mind the company though.”

Geralt shook himself with a whine. He wasn’t being clingy, he just didn’t want to be left alone locked in a room all night. Could he really be blamed for that?  

As they descended the stairs to the main area Geralt looked around at the evening crowd of patrons, scenting the busy evening air. Normally at this point he’d leave Jaskier to set up shop in the center of the tavern area and head to the back of the room. Somewhere out of the way that he could keep an eye on the bard’s performance while being left alone to his own meal and drink in relative peace. As popular as Jaskier’s witcher-themed songs were, he knew that having a real witcher sitting beside him would only hurt his chances at getting coin. No, much better for both of them if Geralt minded his own business in the back of the room.

Besides, he didn’t mind the frequent moments he’d catch Jaskier looking for him in the crowd during his performances, meeting his eye with a smile and a wink.

But tonight was different, and as Jaskier settled on a stool and cheerily began playing his lute Geralt found himself curling up at the bard’s feet. Jaskier started off with a jaunty tune that soon got the crowd’s attention, people looking up from their conversations and meals with smiles to get a look at who was performing tonight. That didn’t surprise Geralt one bit, in his (very) private opinion Jaskier was the most talented performer he’d seen or heard in all his decades of travel, especially as the years had gone on to sharpen his talents.

What did surprise Geralt was how long the audience’s gazes lingered not on the bard but on him. Specifically kind, surprised and intrigued expressions.

Geralt fought to keep from ducking his head, forcing himself to remain stoic as onlookers started to gather as Jaskier’s performance went on, but it was starting to get downright unnerving.

Because no matter where Geralt looked in the crowd he couldn’t find a single look of disgust, annoyance, or fear. Not even a nervous attempt at casualness, the expression he was most used to seeing directed at him. It almost made Geralt wonder if he’d become invisible on top of becoming a wolf, it made far more sense for these kinds of expressions to be directed at Jaskier.

“Doggie!”

Geralt’s ears pricked and his head tilted a bit as he heard an excited young voice in the crowd, small enough that likely only he could hear it over the noise. He peered through the legs of the audience to see a little girl straining to get away from her mother, pulling toward him.

“Sarah no, you don’t know that dog and his owner is performing, you stay right here.” came the hushed voice of her mother from the back of the crowd.

“But I want to pet him!” The girl cried. “He’s nice!”

Geralt saw the moment that the little girl squirmed out of her mother's grip and as she slipped through the crowd. His eyes were still wide in shock as she threw herself right at him with a delighted giggle. Geralt sat stock still for a long moment.

He had...never...been hugged by a child...

Never.

He’d saved hundreds over the years of course, from all kinds of dangers. Had even carried them, screaming, crying, and all too often silent with death back to their parents to be handed off as quickly as possible. Sometimes in exchange for a hurried thanks, sometimes a gruff dispute over coin, sometimes for nothing more than a frightened slur thrown back in his face to get away from them.

Because everyone knew that witchers stole children, all the important bedtime stories and old wives tales said so. Children and cats always knew a Witcher was coming before adults did too, their simple natures sensing something unnatural approaching, sending them scrambling out of the way with instinctive fear. Geralt had never thought to resent children for being frightened of him, they were vulnerable and needed to be cautious in this world. This was just the way things were. It was no blow to him.

But as the little girl hugged his neck and whispered delighted childish praise in his ear he felt something inside him give way, opening an empty, hollow place in his heart he hadn’t even realized was there. But one that must have been there this whole time.

A happy whine escaped him and his tail swished across the floor as he nosed at the little girl’s ear, making her laugh. Had he ever made a child laugh?

He found himself thinking, not for the first time, about his child surprise. The promised child bound to him by an ill-worded agreement and supposedly destiny. The young prince or princess would probably be about the same age as the little girl by now, wouldn’t they?

But then all too soon her mother was there, yanking her away from him crossly, apologizing to Jaskier as she hauled her daughter back.

“Not a problem ma’am, as you can see he’s quite tame.” Jaskier said with a dazzling smile.

As Geralt came back to himself and looked up at the bard he realized the poor man reeked of well-hidden fear. If Geralt could have laughed he would have, instead panting happily. Because of course Jaskier had only seen a young girl fall on a wolf of unknown character that he’d stupidly brought into a tavern, trying to pass it off as an old pet. Geralt was glad he had, and the bard of course had had nothing to worry about, but just the same he was aching to be able to tease Jaskier for the scare he’d gotten.

Jaskier quickly picked up the rest of his song, ending his performance well enough to get a hearty round of applause that ended in a more than decent offering of coin before the crowd happily dispersed.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you for being so tame.” Jaskier said in a hushed tone, dropping to one knee in front of him and stroking his head. “Gods above, I thought we were finished for a moment there, you’re truly a magnificently patient beast.”

Geralt ducked his head away from the attention, but really only on principle at this point. His tail was still wagging as he followed the bard to the table where the innkeeper had set out a meal of stew for Jaskier, and a wooden bowl of scraps for Geralt.

Had Geralt not been in an excellent mood he might have managed to become gruff at having been reduced to eating his meals on the floor. As it was he didn’t mind terribly, and really it certainly beat some miserable excuses for meals he’d endured out in the wilds in his time.

“Can I pet your dog?” Asked the man eating across the table from Jaskier.

Geralt looked up, glancing at the man who smelled of ink and parchment, a pair of spectacles perched on his nose.

“He reminds me of a hound my father owned and he seems agreeable enough,” the man continued with a smile. “But I’d rather ask first than be bit second.”

“I...of course.” Jaskier said, pulling on a smile through a mouthful of stew. “I wouldn’t have brought him in if he weren’t friendly.” Geralt could smell a bit of nervousness from him.

“Well he certainly is a magnificent beast.” The man said, reaching over to scruff the fur between Geralt’s ears. “I bet he puts some fine catches on the table after hunts.”

Geralt accepted the petting with a stoic look, not so much as shaking off the man’s hand. He could smell the relief and happiness on Jaskier.

“Oh Geralt Junior’s not much of a hunter.” Jaskier laughed, relaxing as he launched into his fiction. “He can take care of himself well enough I suppose, but really he thinks he’s a lapdog. You know my sister used to read him bedtime stories when she was young, it’s a miracle I was able to steal him away to travel with me instead of her keeping him.”

Geralt sneezed in amusement at the tale of Jaskier’s invented sister.

“Geralt Junior?” Another man at the table said with a guffaw. “I get it now, after the witcher you sing about? That’s a clever joke if I ever heard one, white wolf indeed.”

“Well where’s his silver sword then?” A woman said cheerfully, coming up from behind Geralt and stroking his back without so much as a warning. “Such a handsome witcher wolf needs his tools of trade don’t he?”

“I’m afraid all he’s slain are the hearts of those who offer him treats. And the occasional rabbit.” Jaskier laughed, warmed up to his audience. “His silver coat is far more useful than a silver sword in his line of work.”

“Well he’s excellent at his trade.” The woman laughed, slipping Geralt a bit of sweetbread from her pocket. “Consider me slain by the mighty white wolf. Oh and look at him taking the bread all dainty-like with his teeth. Afraid he’ll bite my fingers? What a gentleman.”

If Geralt properly considered the positive attention he was currently drowning in he was going to become dizzy with it. Instead he focused on eating the sweetbread, which was followed by a bit of ham from another admirer, and a bit of jerky afterward by another.

The little girl had been one thing, but this much attention was downright mystifying. It was beginning to border on actually terrifying even, sending his heart beating faster than it did when he faced down griffins.

What Geralt was used to was people being careful not to even brush fingers as coin was exchanged, afraid they’d catch mange or worse from touching a Witcher. Aside from a hearty pat on the shoulder once in a blue moon from a particularly gutsy short-term adventuring partner, Geralt was used to only getting affection at brothels where he paid extra to girls who managed to hide their discomfort from their expressions. (But never their scents.)

But now it seemed like the entire village was trying to get their hands on him, and not even to try and drive him out.

Geralt found himself pressing against Jaskier’s leg under the table as the attention really began to become overwhelming, but luckily the bard seemed to pick up on it, looking down at him with concern and resting a calming hand on his flank. Jaskier may not realize that his wolf was enchanted, but nonetheless the bard had always had an uncanny knack for picking up on Geralt’s moods without a single word spoken.

“Well you’ve all been perfectly lovely, but I’m afraid we must take our leave for the night.” Jaskier said, getting up from his seat and bowing grandly to the table. “We wish you all a lovely evening and hope to see you tomorrow for our next performance.”

Geralt kept close to Jaskier as they climbed the stairs to their room for the night, already feeling better once they were out of sight.

“So not a huge fan of people for too long. That’s alright, we can be more careful in the future, no sense in you hanging around people if you aren’t enjoying it anymore.” Jaskier said with a smile, rubbing Geralt’s head.

Geralt tail wagged slow in gratitude as the bard looked through his pockets for the room key.

“Well tonight’s over my friend and you’ve done magnificently.” Jaskier yawned as he unlocked their door. “We’ll curl up in bed and that’ll be the end of it. I can’t tell you how excited I am for a real bed. I can only assume you’ve slept on one before, I highly recommend them.”

Geralt’s tail kept wagging as they entered the room, greeted by a warm fire and a clean smelling mattress. Over the years he and Jaskier had shared a bed dozens of times when inns were small or coin was short, even sleeping rolls out in the wilds when the weather was too cold for the bard to safely sleep alone. That was a warm and familiar kind of touch that Geralt never tired of, even though he’d never admit it.

In fact, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t exactly been as starved for touch as he’d thought. Jaskier was forever touching him whoever they were together: grabbing his arm, leaning against him, helping shuck off his armor at night, sharing a bed, stitching him up, even helping him bathe when he was particularly incapacitated, or they were to attend an important social event.

Jaskier’s touch had never felt overwhelming like the villager’s had. In fact Geralt had perhaps taken it for granted, so comfortable with it and expecting it to the point of no longer appreciating it properly.

He’d never once thanked Jaskier for making him feel like a real person who could be so casually touched.

That...seemed unfair of him...

“You perfect thing.” Jaskier said with a yawn, closing the room door behind them. He scratched between Geralt’s ears.

Geralt nearly ducked away in guilt but didn’t. After all, it seemed very likely that there wouldn’t be any other possible way than this that he could use to apologize to the bard for a long time.

[Read Chapter 2]

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #wit writes #the witcher wolf

[where-is-francis]

Boys Don’t Cry

Steve Harrington x Male Reader

Request:

Prompt: “I came by your house late at night for advice and you’re dancing in your bedroom to The Cure and, not gonna lie, it’s pretty amusing.”

A/N: And the slowest writer ever award goes to: me. But ok Boys Don’t Cry is one of my favorite songs to dance to in an over-dramatic fashion while I’m alone in my bedroom. And I figured like. Why not.

TW: underage drinking, Guys Bein’ Dudes™️, slight language, you dated Nancy but the sexuality is never specified.

Cliques were always dangerous. You never really fit in with any specific group. Fellow peers at Hawkins had just kind of dubbed you a wanderer. And for as much as the teachers liked you, you found yourself in detention quite a bit. Not because you actually started fights, but pissing off Steve Harrington was one of your favorite hobbies. And when Billy Hargrove moved to town, your focus simply shifted to tormenting him instead.

Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the attention. For whatever reason, aggravating each other was the main basis of your friendship.

It was about third period and you’d come in to school late. The secretary noticed you weren’t at roll call for algebra or science, so she called your house. And before you could get to the phone your mother picked up and began screaming at you, whom she just assumed had already left, prompting you to get ready and leave.

The hallways were empty and it was fairly quiet, save for the noises of one of the gym classes going on. Your locker, unfortunately, was in the hall right beside the gym. Squeaks from sneakers and thuds from a dribbling basketball came from behind closed doors. Every time that damned ball hit your head throbbed more, still recovering from the party last night.

Tossing your Walkman inside, you began to grab out one of the books you’d need. English had been boring, but not as laggy as math and science. For a kid who was good with numbers you were surprisingly bad at the two subjects.

A sudden break in your thoughts came when a familiar face spotted yours and began to walk over. You could sense the uneasiness in the way he walked, normally he’d be trying to scare you. With everything in your hands, you nudged the door to your locker closed and waited for him to say something snarky as a greeting.

But he never did.

(E/c) orbs met dark brown ones. The light behind them was gone, now replaced with a sorrowful expression.

“You good?”

“Not really,” he sighed defensively.

“What’s got you—?”

Memories of the party from the night before came back in a blurred montage. Drinking, dancing, smoking, laughing, making out, repeat. You didn’t remember much, but at one point Nancy spilled her drink and went to the bathroom. What seemed like five hours later, Steve was pissed and ended up leaving.

“Oh, shit.” You visibly cringed.

“Look, I’m going to go talk to her.”

“It’s a wasted effort, man.” You reasoned. “Coming from somebody who’s been with her, just trust me.”

He always went to you for advice when it came to her. Nancy Wheeler was a very complex person, but you two dated for a while, and you kind of knew everything. A breakup came after about ten short months when you grew apart, but after a bit of a chat you two decided to stay friends.

The brunette shook his head slightly and glared. Reaching a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, he muttered something about just getting it over with. You opened your mouth to speak just when the secretary stepped out, a less than pleased look on her face.

“(L/n), you better get to class before you end up with another detention. You too, Harrington.”

A small smirk crossed your features. “Aww, that’d be such a shame, huh?”

Steve quickly sauntered off, presumably to talk to Nancy, and you were left with the secretary. The look in her tired eyes that reached your own pleaded for you to just shut up and go to class.

“They aren’t paying me enough for this,” she groaned.

The smirk on your face morphed into a full shit-eating grin, then prompting you to make your way down the hall and into your English class. Just another average day would follow, nothing out of the ordinary.

Later that evening as you got home, you decided it would be best to unwind and listen to music. Nobody else was home, your parents both at work, so that meant you could do pretty much whatever you wanted. Reaching your beat up door, you began to tug your denim jacket off and toss it onto the chair in the corner.

Everything about the room was overdone; posters adorned the off-white walls, the pictures overlapping at times, and stickers thrown onto the closet door. Two large bookshelves were filled to the brim with your music collection, some sketchbooks, and whatever other junk you had that couldn’t be left on the floor.

Nancy always hated your room but that was to be expected. It didn’t bother you much, you’d rather be at her house anyways.

You shut the door and began to change into something a bit more comfortable, wondering what you’d do with yourself for the remainder of the night. Ordering a pizza sounded pretty good, considering nobody was home and you didn’t want to cook. Most nights alone you’d end up watching TV, playing video games, and then crash at about 2 AM. A vicious cycle, one you never grew tired of.

Without thinking, you reached over and grabbed your phone from the receiver and dialed Steve’s number. It seemed like a good idea at the time, the two of you could hang out for a bit without getting yelled at.

Last time he was over, your parents came home earlier than anticipated and found the two of you sat on the couch, drunk, reading through the phone book (for whatever reason), only to just lose your shit whenever you saw a name that sounded even mildly amusing.

The phone rang a few times before eventually being picked up.

A sigh could be heard. “What?”

“Hey, loverboy. I’m ordering pizza tonight. You wanna come over and hang out?”

“Are we going to get our asses ripped this time?” The brunette retorted.

A fake laugh came from you. “That was one time, so are you coming or not?”

There was a minute long pause between you two. No matter how much you annoyed each other, you were one of his weaknesses. And pizza was something that he couldn’t say no to.

“Fine, but—”

“Great! See you in a few.” You chirped and practically smashed your phone back onto the base.

Steve lived only a couple streets down from you. You met back at the beginning of elementary school, both of you riding the same bus. Neither you, nor him, could really remember when you started to consider the other a ‘friend’. But it mainly had something to do with him and Nancy being a couple.

Since she and you dated before and were still close friends, somehow you ended up becoming the marriage counselor along the way.

But hey, the more the merrier, right?

Your mind couldn’t help but drift sometimes. Steve was pretty cute in your eyes, even with his weird hair. Generally the same taste in music, shows, movies, and obviously the same taste in girls. And although he was stupid (sometimes), he was a good dude.

It wouldn’t take long for him to reach the house. In the meantime you decided it would be best to put in the order for the pizzas. A quick call to the nearest shop, and they’d deliver it as soon as it was done.

After scanning through some music, you finally settled on one: a mixtape of your favorite songs from The Cure. You popped it in with no hesitation and set your player to max volume. The intro to Siamese Twins rang out in your bedroom, the beat eventually making all of the furniture thud in perfect time. Glass window panes shook as well, you’d probably have the neighbors complaining in the morning.

Your feet guided you around the house aimlessly as you searched for something to drink, the sound of music becoming more muffled as you entered the kitchen. It reminded you of the party a few nights ago, but far less stuffy. And with better music.

“I chose an eternity of this; like fallen angels, the world disappeared,” you sang slightly to yourself as you rummaged through the cabinets.

Nothing.

Onto the fridge, stocked full of Coke and other stuff you didn’t much care for. Nobody

Meanwhile, down the street, Steve could hear loud music coming from your street. Which was odd, if there was a party he would’ve known about it. Upon further inspection he realized it was coming from your house. The sun was already starting to set behind said abode, nestling itself deeper and deeper into the rows of houses that occupied the area.

The Harrington boy stepped a bit closer and took in the view; your house covered in orange and red tinted leaves, the living room and kitchen lights shining through their respective windows. Your silhouette moved about inside, gracefully, to the beat. Almost like a shadow with perfectly fluid movements.

His focus shifted to the porch lights, then the door, the doorbell, and back again. He only assumed your parents weren’t home but he wasn’t sure, although with as loud as the music was, ringing the doorbell or knocking wouldn’t have done any good anyways. It took him a bit to move, then walking around to the darkened backyard where he counted the windows.

The first one was your parents’ room (he learned the hard way), the second belonged to the bathroom, and finally, the third was the entrance to your bedroom. He glanced down, careful not to step on the flowers, then maneuvered his way around to find a spot where he could see through the gap blinds. What he got was something out of a renaissance painting.

You with your mom’s pearl necklace and matching earrings draped carelessly, your shirt all the way unbuttoned, and a wine glass in your hand. To top it all off, your hair was a mess, but complemented the askew lipstick that painted your lips. Your hips swayed back and forth in a graceful yet drunken manner. Inside, Boys Don’t Cry came on the stereo.

Each step you took was calculated to sync with the beat, the only thing that could’ve made it more amusing was if you would’ve been wearing heels.

“What is that moron doing?”

“I would say I’m sorry

If I thought that it would change your mind

But I know that this time I have said too much,

Been too unkind,”

You sang along, a slurred version not being heard by the other male as he watched from the window. Brown eyes were fixated on your form as you leapt up onto the bed, forcing a bit of a stumble from yourself. After almost toppling over, you continued on.

“I tried to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies

I tried to laugh about it, hiding the tears in my eyes cause—”

“Boys… don’t cry.” Steve finished.

In the midst of the dancing spree you turned and locked eyes with said boy. The room was swaying about and took a minute to stop, your vision focusing on him. Each step you took closer to the window made your knees feel weaker, but somehow you managed to pull the screen up to let the other boy in.

The room was almost like a time capsule; nothing really moved or touched since the last time he’d been there, the only difference being the clothes that had been strewn across the floor. Sudden weight on the bed caused it to dip behind him. When he turned, your body was draped gracefully across the dark (color) sheets. Almost something out of an erotic painting, the clash of textures and colors alike.

Originally, the plan had been to come to wallow in self pity and ask for advice about Nancy. Now all he could think about was you, tipsy, singing along to music so loud it would rival an actual concert.

“You—you want a sip?” You shouted over the lyrics, somewhat slurred.

Steve thought about it for a minute, taking glances at your extended hand every so often. A slight sigh escaped him, then taking the glass and downing whatever was left. He started coughing and gagging as a result of the cheap liquor hitting, but didn’t care too much to do anything besides wipe his mouth off.

Everything in that moment was fuzzy, and loud, and warm. Time was stopped for you two. Nothing really mattered except the exact moment you were living in. Not some dumb party, not some spoiled suburban girl, and most certainly not being sober.

Steve’s hands fell to his hips. The newfound anxiety on his face made you wonder, but still too afraid to ask.

“Is there more to drink?”

“Yeah, in the kitchen… come on.”

Everything that happened afterwards became a blur of colors and muffled noises. Almost like going under anesthesia in the hospital, you couldn’t really remember what went on until something triggered it. And from then on you’d spend your time wondering if it was real or not, trying so hard to distinguish a vivid dream from a drugged reality.

One thing happened to stand out. The single thing you could remember.

Not so many hours later, bottles of liquor had been spread across the floor and the lights turned off. The music that once blared and annoyed the neighbors was turned down now, a much softer volume. Melodic hums came from your lips as Steve ranted about Nancy. The party, it was all because of the stupid party.

“— and, I mean, I apologized. Me. Steve fucking Harrington.”

After what seemed like four rounds too many, his speech was slurred.

Steve buried his face in his hands.“I don’t know what I did wrong…”

“You didn’t do any-anything wrong, man. Nancy just... has a stick up her ass, nothing new.” You assured him with a soft shove to the shoulder.

Your eyes met for a brief moment, his hands sliding down the sides of his face. A pitiful laugh found its way from his throat, soon after turning into something far more maniacal. Something about the situation was funny to you as well.

But not what you had said about Nancy, no. What made you laugh was the look on this idiot’s face, perfectly illuminated by the neighbor’s porch lights. How he slid down deeper onto your floor, ribs aching from giggling too hard. Though he was drunk, the smile plastered on his face was genuine.

Two separate roars were only extinguished after a few minutes, but at the time it felt like hours. You attempted to regain your composure but it was hard when his face was right next to yours. Once perfect brown hair was now askew, the result of the perfect night in. Eyes in the color to match brimmed with tears from laughing, something he felt like he hadn’t done in a while. Nearly perfect skin and perfect lips almost begging for some action; it was too amazing.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you wanted to make out with me…”

It took a minute for his words to sink in. Even in the dark he could see the red flush rise to your cheeks. You swallowed a bit, hand rising to comb through (h/c) locks anxiously. Harsh shadows covered your (s/c) face but even then Steve could still tell you were biting your lip.

It seemed he had his answer.

“Oh,”

“Yeah, oh,” you mirrored.

Everything happened what felt like hours later, but at the same time, all at once. Your bodies had been forced together, the taste of long forgotten cheap wine playing on your tongues. His hands reached up to tangle gently in your hair, all while yours gripped desperately at the lapels of his denim jacket.

The kiss was soft and messy, but whether it was the alcohol’s fault or the fact he was nervous was anybody’s guess. For whatever reason, Steve expected it to feel different but it didn’t. The kiss was just that; a kiss. Not a kiss with a boy, just a kiss.

Clumsily, he straddled your lap to get a better angle. It still felt the same. The time had come to an end, your lungs begging for air, forcing the two of you to pull back. His shoulders heaved, the room only being filled now with the slight sound of you both panting.

(E/c) hues opened to take in the view. Steve Harrington straddling your lap, breathless, disheveled, only being lit by the light that came through the window. The grip you had on his jacket slowly loosened, only to be stopped by his hand on yours. Red lipstick that once adorned your lips was now shared. The Cure that played in the background had finally come to a complete stop. But the gaze Steve had on your lips didn’t, especially when he began to lean in again.

“Don’t tell Nancy,”

#stranger things #steve harrington #x male reader #steve harrington x male reader #stranger things x male reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #jaws writes

[a-king-alone]

Ghostface (DBD) x gender neutral reader Summary: Danny has a crush on you ~

You awaken to find yourself in another trial. Same as usual. All you feel is endless rage and hate it all because it never ends and you don't know how to make it stop. Nobody else does either. You and your fellow survivors just do your best to cope with the uncertainty of when the Entity will summon four of you to a location, only for you to be hunted down and exterminated.

Nobody knew why they were chosen. Everybody assumed it was completely random and for some reason, you got plucked out of what used to be your very promising and aspiration-filled life only to awake in a dark forest near a campfire, where you met the others and learned of your forced twisted fate. You felt robbed of your life, robbed of having agency of your own existence. And it pissed you off.

You, though. You got pretty good at learning how to play the game and how to get out without dying, at least 50/50, you'd say. Fellow survivors looked to you for advice on how to proceed and often, you were the one directing a plan whenever you spawned together into the trial. Half the time, you could escape, against certain monsters out there. But some of the killers, there just was not any kind of hope of living through their terror. They were too good at it.

One of the select few that came to your mind adorned an extremely creepy, slim white mask. And he was the one you hated the very most. He was one of the silent killers and those killers were the ones you detested because they always caught you off guard. You never knew where he would be or from where he was watching. And he was always watching.

You groaned inwardly after you gathered a grasp on your surroundings. It was the institute, a large building with narrow corridors. Last time you were spawned into this area, you and your team had to face the insufferable Doctor. His madness spread through shockwaves, causing intense and unimaginable pain so great that anyone would scream at the impact. It was difficult to avoid the Doctor when everybody kept screaming within his vicinity.

You hoped it would be anyone but him. You regretted such a thought later. It was impossible to get away from him in this hospital and you were pretty sure it was his personal domain.

The air felt chilled as you quietly tip-toed through the open hallways, only walking when you felt safe one of the rooms, where various medical equipment could conceal you. A yell erupted from somewhere near you and you hunkered down next to a gurney.

Another pained scream came again, but closer this time and you heard the grotesque noise of bodily meat being hung onto a hook. You knew then that it was a silent killer because whenever the killer was near anybody, your heartbeat would escalate more and more the closer they got to you. Yet right after your teammate was hooked, your heartbeat calmed quite suddenly.

Your brows knit together, trying to think fast. It didn't matter which one it was, you had to go and help your teammate. You were the one closest to them, you couldn't just leave them. You crept through the safety of the room toward where you had heard their scream, just barely peeping from a doorway both ways. Nothing there, but you did see your friend hanging.

Darting from your position, you quickly grabbed under their armpits, using all the strength you could muster to lift them off of the bloody hook. When you first began your trials, you couldn't even do it. It took a long while for your body to get used to the abuse and toughen up.

"C'mon, now!" You grabbed his hand, leading him away toward another room, a tight spaced one, then ripping your friends shirt where a large gaping hole was in their chest, exiting through his backside. It looked disgusting. While wounds like this would ultimately end someones life simply by blood loss and the brutality of the trauma, in this realm, where the trials took place, the survivors bodies could somehow handle a lot of physical damage.

It was funny, in a way. Veteran survivors preferred the hook wound a whole lot more to the wounds killers could make. This wasn't half as gross as seeing your friends head smashed in with the sledge hammer of a psychotic hillbilly. It was even worse if they survived it. You shuddered.

"Well, it didn't break your collarbone this time," you said with a light chuckle, to try and ease the mood, as your friend merely winced in pain as you attempted to patch up the wound and stop the excessive bleeding.

"Thanks," he groaned, inhaling sharply when you pressed down.

"You'll be alright Jake, you've seen worse," you assured him, even though he didn't look very hopeful. His lips thinned with a small smile, sitting against the wall to rest for a moment.

"Leave me here, I'll be fine," he assured you, though you were worried that he wouldn't be. But you trusted his word and nodded.

"Alright. I haven't heard the others—"

A scream echoed down the hallways interrupted you, before another did as well following shortly after. A shaky breath left you and you swallow, hard. It sounded as if the other two were severely injured, not hooked, but injured enough to become rendered immobile. Jake struggled to stand, holding the wall for support.

"I'll go, Jake. Find a generator, work on it. We've got four to go and we're all getting screwed. But we can get through this," you tried to sound hopeful as you spoke, but it felt futile. Usually when the trial snowballed in the killers favor, it was highly unlikely that anyone would make it. Fuck that. You had to try.

Jake nodded as you both parted ways. You inhaled a deep breath, letting it exit your lips. You crept as quietly as possible down the hallways, until you heard another scream, that high-pitched scream definitely signaled being hooked. As you were heading in that general direction, you heard another, but from your other teammate, in the opposite direction.

Oh, fuck me, you thought. Alright. Jane is closer, I'm going to get her and then tell her to find Jake. Then, I'll get Claudette and we'll split somewhere together. Alright... I can do this. I can do this.

As you approached Jane hanging there helplessly, blood began gushing from her wound when she began shaking her head, waving her hands to let you know the killer was lurking near by within her line of sight, but not yours. You stopped behind a counter, peeking over to scan the area. Your eyes widened.

Your frozen stare met with that dreadful white mask on the other side of the counter, which tilted at you as he waved his hand at you. You darted away immediately, rounding the corner out of his sight. You couldn't hear him at all, fuck! When you arrived to a room line with bookshelves filled with novels, you positioned yourself beneath the desk in the center.

Since you couldn't hear him, you hoped by remaining out of his line of sight that he wouldn't find you. But unfortunately for you, you heard Jake screaming again instead, your heart racing. This isn't good! You hoped he would've just kept looking for you. Two already hooked and now Jake was found?! You heard his piercing cry as the hook reopened his wound again.

You were their only hope. Three on hooks. You swallowed.

Darting from the desk, you attempted to make your way back to one of them, any of them, because they needed you. At an intersection, you peeked around a corner, looking for blood or any kind of trail you could follow to lead you to your teammates. You had run from the killer in a haphazard path, so you were a bit confused to your actual position and theirs.

But before you could move on, a sharp pain suddenly entered deeply into your backside and you collapsed immediately. Cursing, you struggling to crawl along the ground but found it to be fruitless. You weren't able to save them and you slammed your fist on the ground.

You knew they wouldn't blame you. But you blamed yourself. If you had only been smarter, if only you had outplayed the killer and rescued at least one person, you could've possibly swung the trial back into your favor. Black boots circled into your view before the masked man in blood-soaked leather crouched down in front of you.

"So, we finally meet again," he said in a cheery tune, muffled by that stupid mask that you hated. His gloved hands were playing around with the blood caked onto the blade as he watched you slowly bleed out. You bet he had a smug ass look on his face too under that dumb fucking mask.

"Fuck you," you spat, turning your head away from him.

Most killers didn't interact with the survivors the way he did. The Ghostface tormented them  and reveled in their suffering and would even take pictures of his kills, that sick sadistic bastard. You preferred to just be slaughtered mercilessly than to be toyed with before your inevitable death claimed you and brought you back to the only comfort you knew, the flickering flames of a campfire.

"Why're you so mad~? I did this all for you!" he exclaimed excitedly, the tip of the knife beneath your chin, lifting your head to meet with the bloodied mask of an unfeeling murderer.

You grimaced, jerking your head away from his knife with a scoff. The pain radiated through you with your sudden movement and you groaned, trying to keep your breath steady. You heard him audibly purr with pleasure in response to your pain.

"You're disgusting." You turned your head away from him, seething with anger and hatred, wishing you could just bleed out faster and you could go back to the fog. But you knew that's not what would happen. Not with Ghostface. He never just 'let you go'. No, he always had to have something first. Always.

"Did you forget how I taste already~?" He bent down further, leaning over to where you had faced away from him as the daggers in your eyes met with him. "Want a reminder?"

All you could do is sigh. The most you could hope for is that he would have his dumb little fun with you before finally ending your life and secure his victory as the merciless killer. What a fucking sicko.

You recalled the most recent time you had seen him, some several trials ago, you never kept count anymore. Whenever he figured out it was you that spawned in the trial, he would get sweaty to kill off your teammates before any of you could complete objectives and then he would relentlessly torture you for as long as he felt like before finally ending it. Of course, with his own "personal souvenir" at the end.

The last time, after everyone else got killed, he had tied you up in a way that left you suspended in the air to one of the four hooks down in the basement that spawned in every trial no matter what the location was. He gave you multiple lacerations, deep ones, cutting into your meat over and over. And then he simply watched you after taking a ton of photographs of you, dangling with your pained moans as your blood dripped down your body onto the floor, doing things to himself that you tried really, really hard to block out of your memories.

The worst part was when he turned his own blade on himself, wiping his own  blood from the knife between his fingers and to your absolute horror, he shoved those bloody fingers down into your throat, saying, "Now I'll always be inside of you."

And you bit down. Hard. As hard as you could, though you couldn't tear through leather with your teeth, you hoped it left a bruise at least. He slugged you so hard in the jaw that you were knocked out cold on impact. That feeling of his gloved fingers surrounding your tongue, the metallic taste gagging your throat...

You never forgot it. Not once. And you tried to. It haunted you because there were several killers, but none of them ever did these gross things like Ghostface did. You weren't sure if he did it to others or just you, but you didn't care. You hoped the Entity would somehow  destroy him, even though you knew it was impossible. But that was the only thing you knew to be stronger than him. You dreamt of it.

"Hello? Are you there~? C'mon, stop being so coy," he uttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone, his hand running through your hair gently. You growled, jerking away from him again.

"Just get it over with already," you muttered, putting your face in the crook of your arm so you wouldn't have to have him in your sight anymore, trying to not focus on the pain you felt. It was only a matter of time before he kept doing more worse things to you, it was better to grit your teeth and not let him have the satisfaction of your reactions.

"But it's been so long! I've been thinking of only you, doesn't that make you feel special?" he said, sitting down on the ground now with his back against the wall. His arms went around your middle as he turned you onto your back, pulling you across his lap with ease despite your struggling. Your head was cradled in his arm, the other rested on your stomach and arms. All you could do was grimace as he held you, feeling uncomfortable in the position.

"Yeah, well, I don't think of you, ever," you retorted through your gritted teeth, trying your best to turn your head away but the way he positioned you in his arms kept you from doing it. Each time he'd just move his arm to readjust you.

"You're lying~" he whispered, bending down over your face. You closed your eyes tightly. You didn't want to look at that mask. It was the most abhorrent thing you had ever seen and whenever it emerged in your memories, you felt physically ill.

You felt that he was doing something as his other arm wasn't laying across you anymore, but you didn't care. If you couldn't see, then it didn't matter. You hoped he would just plunge his knife as deep into your chest as it could go. At least you didn't have to look at him. He couldn't force you to keep your eyes open.

But something suddenly warm against your lips had your lids flying open. For the first time, you were seeing what Ghostface actually looked like, but really up close, too close. All you could see in your utter confusion is that he had slender-ish eyebrows and dark hair, strands falling just above your face. A few defined freckles?! And his lips were pressing against yours and you began to flail to get away from it, but as you did, he grasped onto your arms tightly to hold them against your body in place as he kept forcing his kiss on you.

You breath lodged in your throat as you attempted to keep your lips closed, until he bit down on your bottom one pretty hard, causing you to yelp in pain. And he took that opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. Your displeasured voice was muffled by his lips interlocked against yours, but the noise made him moan your name right into your mouth, making you feel sickness lurch into your stomach. Of fucking course he knew your name already, yet you never told him.

When he finally pulled away from your lips, you saw a trail of saliva connecting from his mouth to yours, his gloved hand wiping it away from his own mouth, but leaving it dribbling off of yours. You blinked with tears pricking at your eyes with the fury, hatred, disgust, confusion; so many feelings swirling around inside of you like a goddamn hurricane.

You couldn't believe your eyes. Ghostface was actually a pretty boy. He had that 'pretty boy' type of face, even the damn hair style. And in your mind, despite the overwhelming revulsion, the tiniest little thought crossed your mind that wow, he was super good looking. Okay, sure, you could admit that, you told yourself. You weren't attracted to a sick fuck like him, no matter how damn pretty he was under the mask. All along you thought he was some disfigured monster just like the rest of them under the mask. It jarred you how surprisingly normal he looked.

"Oh, what, can't take your eyes off of me now? Did you fall in love? Are you gonna be mine forever~?" he teased in a soft but somewhat raspy voice, the tip of his tongue running over the top of his lip, those pitch black eyes piercing into yours.

You couldn't take it anymore.

"Why are you doing this? Please, just kill me already," you pleaded for the first time, your voice cracking just slightly. You felt like you were going to cry because you wanted to get away that badly, but you definitely could not allow it to happen and you knew he wouldn’t just let you go. He'd enjoy seeing it.

His grip on your body tightened as a sinister expression crossed his features, leaning down really, really close to your face. "Be~cause, silly, you're Mine."

You were speechless.

"Do you think I enjoy hunting you down every trial? I mean, yes, I most certainly do. But~  it's really a hassle when all I've wanted to do is keep you all for myself," he murmured with a gross simper. He continued on as you could do nothing but stare at him in abject horror.

"Do you know how many pictures I have of you? Hundreds, maybe even close to a thousand. Do you know what I do~ when I look at them~? Do you?"

You gulped the spit that pooled inside of your mouth and his smile widened, his hand rising to meet your cheek, his thumb catching a stray tear that fell from your eyes. "You swallowed me," he whispered so gently as some kind of... almost affectionate type of expression shifted his gaze. You felt like you were about to gag.

You tried to twist away from him but then his grasp on you grew tighter as he bit into his bottom lip with his grin, forcing you even closer to him as his hands gripped hard into you, so hard you thought it might bruise.

"Fuck off Ghostface, you sick freak—-" you had began but your jaw dropped when you saw that he was now looking at you with this gaze of absolute longing, as if he just were completely and utterly enamored with you. As if he were stupidly in love with you or something. He closed the distance again, kissing you once more. Your noises of disapproval were trapped in your throat and every time you did it, his pleasured groans were against your lips.

He parted away from you just slightly, you could feel his breath on you, hot and heavy, when he whispered, "Call me Danny."

His name was Danny?? He had a name?? You hated everything and every moment that passed, how he was showing you that he was a human and not a monster. But he was a monster, he was definitely a monster. He just didn't look like one like you had imagined. You hated it.

"Please, say it," he moaned into your neck as he began nuzzling and leaving kisses along it toward your jaw as you closed your eyes tightly. "Please~"

Why? That was all you could think of in your mind as you were trapped in his clutches. Just why? Why you? Why was he so obsessed with you? Not that you thought lowly of yourself, but you weren't the most beautiful person in the world, not hideous or ugly, but not drop-dead gorgeous either. What was it about you that he was so drawn to? You couldn't ask. And it was obvious that he was growing impatient.

"Say it, or else I'll keep you here forever," he threatened with that stupid cheery tone while your face soured. Was that even possible? Did the trial go on infinitely if the killer kept one alive? You'd never seen it happen so you couldn't say for sure if it was true or if he was bluffing to make you do as he wanted. You bet on the latter, but you also didn't want to stay any longer than you already have. Just give him what he wants and then you can be on your merry little way back into this endless torture and try to forget any of this even happened.

"D... Danny..." you hesitated, saying his name just barely even above a whisper in the smallest voice, but it was enough for him. You could tell. He seemed really giddy about it, smiling like a dumbass.

"Do it again~" he murmured softly and you gave a weakly irritated scoff, feeling fuzzy stars floating around your vision. You had lost a whole lot of blood, most of it pooled beneath your body and all over Danny's lap from the stab wound he inflicted on you. You groaned, unable to keep your head up with the dizziness. Good... You could just fade away...

"Hey, hey, hey, don't pass out yet! I wanna stay with you a little longer!" He propped your body upright, the back of your neck rested in the crook of his arm. It was somehow laughable to you that he looked so concerned for you when he was the one that stabbed you in the back in the first place. His brow furrowed slightly at your weak giggles, but then a smile spread and he started giggling too a little bit along with you.

You scoff again, rolling your eyes, trying to keep them open but finding it more difficult. Why the hell was he acting this way? Before now, every encounter you shared, he usually did some grossly sadistic shit to you and took pictures, or, rarely, other perverted, nasty things. He never outright molested you but he made you watch him perform a few times. This was the first time that he acted so drastically different.

"Danny..." you whispered his name and it got his attention immediately, his intense gaze focused solely on you, on your half-lidded eyes. Ha. So that was the only smallest bit of power that you could have over Ghostface.

"I.. fucking... hate.. you..." you uttered feebly, your energy and will depleted from you and you were more than ready for death to claim you, but in your blurred vision, you saw that he was smiling so warmly at you. It was that look again. That look as if he were just so hopelessly in love that he couldn't even contain it. It was just confusing and horrifying.

"That's okay," he whispered into your ear so gently and he pulled you into a tight embrace, his hand holding the back of your head against his shoulder, your arms dangling limply.

"I'll make you love me."

It was the last thing you heard before your descent into darkness, your corpse being held lovingly by a psychotic killer who awaited excitedly for the next time that he could see you again. Because he wanted more now. He had a taste of you and he wanted more, so much more. And he would have you. You were his and no one elses.

You belonged to him and he wanted to make sure you knew it. No matter where you were, no matter what you did, he was going to be watching you, following you and awaiting for the perfect opportunity to have you all to himself, again and again and again and again.

#ghostface x reader #dead by daylight #x reader

[mythicamagic]

Swimming in Silk - Chapter 11

Training in front of her, engaging her in conversation and now lending her his clothes…Kagome is starting to suspect that Sesshoumaru is trying to gain her attention.

Sesskag - Romance, Humour, Drama, Angst

Rated M - As always you can read this story on Ao3, fanfiction.net or Dokuga

Chapter One - here       Chapter Three - here    Chapter Five - here

Chapter Two - here        Chapter Four - here       Chapter Six - here  

Chapter Seven - here    Chapter Eight - here    Chapter Nine - here          Chapter Ten  - here       Chapter Twelve - here

 Inebriated Inhibitions~

"So basically, that Kaito guy is a jerk, putting it lightly."

A huff sounded out across from her. "Insolent girl! General Kaito has served this house for generations!" Jaken squeaked in his nasally voice.

Kagome rose a brow, wishing she had some earbuds to at least soften the blow of his high pitch. "Really?"

"Well...two! He served under the Great Dog General." He cleared his throat, trying to pitch his voice deeper.

Hard to believe Sesshoumaru's dad could put up with such a dick since he liked humans, Kagome mused dryly to herself. She glanced around Jaken's meagre dwelling, which was a simple room that opened up to where the staff hung laundry. He could have quite a nice view of the garden if it weren't for the swaying sheets.

"Now then, if you've come to me, you must want some profound advice."

With a flat look, she placed her chin on her palm, shifting at the low table. "Not really no," she muttered, hearing another jittery squawk ring out. "I just needed to talk to someone. It's not like I can tell Sesshoumaru about it, he's got enough on his plate at the moment."

"Tch, well I suppose I should be pleased you're not bothering our Lord unnecessarily. And what of Shippo?"

Kagome blinked. She'd never heard him refer to the kit by name before. It had never occurred to her that they may have gotten closer over the years. She smiled a little, gentling her voice just a touch, "I can't interrupt him either. He's busy looking for the right transformation spell for Kirara."

Jaken tutted, sliding his hands inside his sleeves and glowering. "You just had to bother me with this then."

"Fine. I'll humour you, buddy," she smirked, lifting a shoulder. "If you were going to offer advice, what would it be?"

The green toad demon muttered a few complaints, before straightening. "Hmph, well, I suppose I can be generous. Ahem, I would say to invite him hunting!" He said with a grandiose flourish of his thin little arms.

"Why?"

He scoffed. "Don't you know anything? By bringing back a kill, you'll have shown to him that you can pull your own weight and provide for the West!"

"But I already pulled my own weight! I helped kill a dragon!" Her high pitch now rivalled Jaken's.

He sipped his tea, slurping loudly and making Kagome's jaw tick. "That was years ago, who can remember that far back?" He said dismissively.

Turning, Kagome grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, letting out a muffled noise. By the time she dropped it, the kappa was staring at her with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

Kagome blushed and sighed, vaguely missing Lady Inukimi. She would have been much preferable to talk to. "Alright...I'm guessing if I'd have to bring back the biggest animal possible. Like a stag."

Jaken nodded happily, "exactly!"

Thinking for a moment, Kagome searched inside herself, finding a very faint pull within. A familiar sensation that was slowly tightening like a coiled snake around her lungs. Time travel loomed on the horizon. "...Thanks for the advice, but I think I'll skip it."

"H-hah? Why on earth?"

She folded her hands on her knees, lowering her eyes. "I might not be here much longer. And maybe Kaito is right after all and I'm not cut out for this; because a Lady would place pleasing her House above all else."

Melancholy blue rose to meet his bulbous yellowed eyes. "But my first loyalty is to Sesshoumaru, and I'm going to go spend time with him instead like I should be doing right now. Even if I killed a deer, history will probably repeat itself. I'll get dragged away soon and you'll all forget what I even did. Only he'll remember. I'm literally useless to all of you except for him...but luckily his is the only opinion I care about."

Jaken squeaked and let out a growl, standing. "Impudent girl! How dare you! He was right, you are unsuitable in every way, completely usele-"

His large eyes suddenly rounded wider, letting out a whimper as sweat broke out on his forehead. Kagome noticed his gaze was fixed on something behind her, and shifted to see. Sesshoumaru stood in the threshold of the doorway, figure unnaturally still. Coiled muscle waited on the brink to strike. His eyes blazed.

"By all means, Jaken." He purred in silken tones, tilted his head slightly, "continue to enlighten this one. How is his chosen Mate somehow lacking?"

The kappa trembled violently, throwing himself onto his knees and ducking down- only to hit his head on the table and yelp. He then bowed properly, "p-p-please mi Lord! I meant no offence!"

Light footfalls made the sweat on his brow drip to the floor. The noise ceased somewhere on the toads left. "And I mean no injury," Sesshoumaru uttered, drawing his foot back.

Kagome gasped as the lord kicked the kappa straight out of the open doors. His small figure sailed through the air- hitting the swaying sheets and ripping them off their hooks- sailing over gardens and out over the wall. He disappeared from sight wrapped in white with a grateful dimming cry. "Thank you, mi Lord!"

The miko shifted, drawing herself up to stand by Sesshoumaru's side, blinking. Sharp tawny eyes slid down to her, sharp claws twitching by his side.

"Never concern yourself with the opinions of lesser youkai."

Her eyes widened before a gentle blush coloured her cheeks. "But compared with you, everyone else is lesser youkai," she teased.

Golden hues warmed, chin tilting up slightly arrogantly. "Hn, exactly."

She reached out and took hold of his deadly fingers, "hey. Are you free later?"

Sesshoumaru turned his full attention to her, inclining his head.

"W-would you um...like to go on a date with me?"

He rose a brow, "we have already successfully courted."

"I-I know," she bit her lip. "But we could just have a picnic in the garden tonight or something," Kagome raised a brow at him, lips quirking. "Maybe it's immature, but it's not like you'd care if someone didn't approve, right?"

Sesshoumaru looked down at her, those faint lines still haunting under his eyes. But some weight seemed to ease from his shoulders, and subtle warmth entered his voice. "What a rebellious woman I chose for a mate. Very well..."

It was late into the evening when Sesshoumaru was finally settled down into the bizarre set up the miko had arranged, eating his supper. She had spread out a blanket onto the grass and put out candles of various sizes, lighting them. Saké awaited him, which he suspected she'd requested from the staff earlier. His gaze slid toward her as she placed the white porcelain cups out. She blushed and pointedly ignored his prying eyes as she poured his drink.

"I'm not trying to get you drunk."

"This one did not speak a word," he muttered, putting his empty plate down and setting his chopsticks aside. He then returned the kindness by pouring her drink.

She pushed some black hair behind her ear, "I'm technically not allowed to have this. The legal drinking age in Japan is 20, but I won't tell if you don't."

"And what is the...purpose of this date?"

"Can't I just spend some quality time with Mr. Fancyfeet?" She smiled, eyes glittering. Seeing his expectant look, Kagome sighed, nursing her forgotten drink. "I guess I figured you could use a night to take the edge off. You've been busy since we got back and I'm no good at...Lady duties...the most I've done is look over scrolls or help the staff clean, but Chiyo beat me back with a stick. Apparently, I'm not even allowed to clean. So this is something I can do. I like to think I'm good at making you relax," she smirked.

Sesshoumaru lifted the saké cup to his lips and paused, mulling over her words. "...If anything it's the opposite," he uttered, slit pupils shifting to her.

Kagome blinked and blushed at the telling look, quickly lifting the alcohol to her lips and wondering when her heart would calm down around him. She tilted the cup up, only to make a noise and choke. Tears stung her eyes.

Hearing a chuckle beside her, Kagome stubbornly tried again. The saké tasted sharp and unpleasant on her tongue, and yet Kagome kept drinking. Her throat burned by the time the cup was empty, and she exhaled, feeling heat rush to her cheeks.

"Okay...whew! That tastes stronger than I thought it would," she touched her blazing neck. It hurt to swallow.

"Do you wish to stop?"

"N-no! Of course not. Lay it on me," she held her drink out for more. She could put up with the taste if it meant feeling that pleasant swimming sensation that took the edge off.

One Hour Later

Kagome giggle-snorted, leaning against a strong shoulder as she lulled heavily, slurring her words. "Okay, okay- truth or dare."

His chin tilted up, pride dancing in his eyes. Naturally, he would not back down from a challenge. Unlike the swaying girl, his grip on his cup remained steady, muscles pleasantly relaxed. He observed her increasing inebriation with vague, lazy amusement. "Dare."

She pretended to think, but honestly, the thought was already there. A classic, dumb dare. She was very happy within her hazed mind that he'd agreed to her little game.

"I dare you to run across the courtyard. Naked."

With a scoff, Sesshoumaru rose from the blanket and pushed long silver strands over his shoulder. "A trivial task," he muttered, easing forward. Kagome squeaked and quickly stood up.

"You have to wait until I've reached the balcony upstairs, I need to watch!" She grinned, hurrying with a giddy spring to her step. The miko raced inside, pushing the sliding doors aside and navigating fairly easily to the balcony that overlooked the vast courtyard. Due to the late evening, not many demons were around, but she noticed a few men hanging around the barracks. She spied Sesshoumaru appear near the edge of the yard, drenched in shadow as he calmly stripped. Kagome's face flushed as she grinned, leaning forward eagerly.

Sesshoumaru folded his crisp white clothes over one arm, holding his boots in one hand while shifting his feet. Kagome bit back a laugh, watching with bated breath. Even from far away, she could see how the moonlight strained to touch his silver hair, even while he lingered in shadow.

Suddenly his body shifted forward from the shadows- form blurring into a streak of white. By the time she'd blinked it was over.

Hurrying down the stairs once more, Kagome caught her breath on the porch, glaring at the Daiyoukai as he fixed his clothes. "You cheated."

He lifted an uncaring shoulder, tying his obi, "you did not specify the speed with which to run."

Kagome huffed and stomped over, settling down onto the picnic blanket again. He sat next to her with an expectant look, "it is your turn."

"Fine, truth," she chickened out.

"Very well," silver hair hung forward as he leaned closer, until she could feel his breath fan over her neck. "Who was Jaken referring to earlier?" Keen eyes probed her for weaknesses.

Kagome felt something skitter down her spine. She busied herself with taking a sip while trying to think of an answer. She tried to make her voice as casual as possible. "Hm? When?"

His gaze assessed her before the demon calmly straightened. "I see, so there is someone. And you are most likely protecting them."

"W-what? How the heck did you-"

"I know you fairly well by now." He purred in silken tones, a playful lift to his voice. "This 'truth' part of the game is unnecessary."

"Oh really?" She arched a brow, smirking. "You still don't know who it is."

"I soon will," he promised darkly, gaze flashing. "If his sentiments are something that Jaken felt emboldened enough to agree with, he must have shared some very strong words with you. And have some social standing..."

Kagome could see the gears turning in his mind, eliminating possibilities while trying to pinpoint his target. She felt a chill in the air, as summer was to be left behind soon in favour of Autumn. She shifted closer, knee resting against his.

"Sesshoumaru," she placed her hand on his arm. "Please don't make a big thing of it. It's just one guy's opinion," she murmured even as she remembered the General's acidic words. How her stomach had plummeted.

"And what pray tell did you say in response?"

Kagome winced, remembering. "I-I asked that he kindly fuck off," she mumbled, pushing her hair behind her ear. She'd hoped not to let her anger get the best of her.

A deep rumble of a chuckle escaped him, and Kagome mused that the alcohol must have soothed his temper. She smiled and slid her hand into his, threading slim fingers with his deadly ones. "Come on, truth or dare."

"Truth," he muttered, running the pad of his thumb over her knuckles.

Kagome paused for a moment, deciding to just get it out there and ask. "...Does it bother you that I'm not pregnant? Are you really alright with waiting until I'm ready?" She murmured, resting her cheek against his arm.

Sesshoumaru lapsed into pensive silence, and she could feel the line of tension from his arm. He then tore his hand from hers, and Kagome felt rejection slam into her chest- until his arm swept around her waist, bringing her into the warmth of his side.

"Peace is tenuous at best in these times," he uttered. "Perhaps a child would set my House at ease, but we are not my parents. This one refuses to have an heir for the sake of one," he grit out, lips peeling back at the thought. The Daiyoukai took a breath, eyes hazing. "It would bring me...satisfaction to smell your scent change, for you to carry my pups, but if you were ripped away from us after giving birth- or if you took them away from me into a time beyond my reach- I could not stand it."

Kagome looked up at him, brows drawing together.

He met her gaze, the moonlight softening his inhuman gaze. "I will lose no more of my children."

Her heart gave a squeeze, and Kagome rested her cheek against his chest. "It's okay, we'll wait. We'll wait until...we're together for good. Alright?"

Hearing a noise of affirmation, she decided to try and lighten the mood. Pouring another cup for him, she patted his side. "I think I'll go Dare this time. Come on, lay it on me."

Sesshoumaru rose a brow in challenge. "Hn...run across the courtyard, naked."

Kagome blushed beet red, before pulling herself up from his side and saluting him. "Yes sir!" She reached down, only succeeding in sliding her panties down her thighs before her hands were grabbed. Sesshoumaru shifted her underwear back up, fingers lingering under her skirt.

"Perhaps that was ill-advised. Let this one think of something else," he muttered lowly. Kagome just laughed, resting her hands on his shoulders and leaning in contentedly.

Sitting in her usual place beside Sesshoumaru, knelt on a cushion, she dug into her food. Swallowing some pills to will away her headache, Kagome tried her best to function despite the hangover splitting her skull. Sesshoumaru seemed perfectly fine, that jerk.

The rest of the demons were eating, picking at their cuts of raw meat or fish. Kagome had learned to look strictly at her own plate. Shippo happily munched on his own food to the side of her, and Kagome smiled, wishing not for the first time that things could always remain so carefree.

Feeling a warm palm on her back, Kagome blinked and looked at Sesshoumaru. He stared not at her- but at a table not too far away, where General Kaito sat eating. Blue eyes widening, Kagome glanced at her mate. His face remained emotionless, in a way that alarmed her.

"Sesshoumaru…" she said carefully. Did he know? How had he found out?

A glance at Jaken's bruised forehead answered her unasked question.

With a gasp, she felt herself be tugged onto his lap, a warm chest at her back. Kagome inwardly squirmed when all sets of eyes turned to her and squeaked when his hands went to the front of her kimono. Sesshoumaru yanked the parting down, peeling one side away to expose her shoulder. Kagome hissed, gripping the material tightly to her chest to keep her modesty.

"What the hell?!" She growled, stilling when his chin rested on the crook of her shoulder. Hooded golden eyes stared straight at the General as long fingers curled near the mating mark on her skin.

"I trust that this is enough to satisfy those that question my claim to this woman. And hers to me," he uttered lowly.

The entire gathering had stopped to watch the spectacle unfold. General Kaito stiffened, eyes slightly wide.

"I do not know which is worse; to assert a valueless opinion as fact or to give that opinion like it holds any sway over a Lord's actions. You are stupider than I first assumed." Sesshoumaru cooly assessed, a palpable bite in his words. Youki coated his skin, anger simmering close to the surface. "Know this; When you speak of the Lady, you speak of your Lord. If you see her as unfit to lead then by extension you see me in the same way. Therefore any who share the General's opinion - step forward. This one will gladly put you in your place."

The General swallowed while Kagome wisely decided to hold still.

"General Kaito…won't you face this one in combat?" Sesshoumaru murmured in a deceptively soft tone.

A solemn shake of the head was his only answer for a moment, before a quiet voice reached his ears. "No, my Lord. I could never."

Sesshoumaru's grip on Kagome eased a little, and she could feel the tension leak out of his frame. "Then be satisfied that your head clings to your shoulders and get lost. I've no need of fools within my company," he muttered in a dismissive tone.

The General stood, and the rest of the dining guests assembled started to pick at their food again, ignoring him. Kagome watched as the man turned away, his hands loose at his sides.

"No, wait! Please…" she struggled, unable to stand with Sesshoumaru's arm around her. She growled and yanked it off to get to her feet, ignoring his hiss. "We don't have to settle this with fighting or banishment, why does it have to be so extreme? This House needs everyone it can get at the moment."

She took a breath, feeling all eyes trained on her. Kaito had paused, eyes slightly wider. Kagome swallowed, setting her shoulders. "Times are changing, and you'll all need each other if the humans continue to cultivate more land."

Which they will, she left out.

Look down at her right side, she frowned. "Sesshoumaru…you can't be in three places at once. You've relied on General Kaito in the past, and your armies trust him. Don't toss him aside just for wounding your pride-"

"It is your pride he besmirched." Came his low reply, winter ice frosting his gaze.

Kagome paused. "Well…since it's me he insulted, I should be the one who decides what happens to him."

A few demons in the room let out barks of laughter. The women hid their painted smiles behind their fans and spoke in low whispers to each other.

Kagome ignored them all and looked only at the man she was addressing. "General Kaito, please remain here. Tomorrow, let's go hunting together, okay?" She invited gently.

"Such a pitiful sentence!" One demon laughed.

"Haha how embarrassing for the mighty General," other demons clad in armour chuckled.

Kagome's lips thinned, her hands curling into loose fists. She could feel the air on her exposed shoulder, licking deliciously at the mating mark. She silently begged the General to take her offer, to not embarrass her a second time.

One bushy brow twitched, before the General bowed down, hair hanging forward. "I will do as you command, my Lady."

Kagome breathed out with relief, moving to sit down- only to feel herself be yanked onto Sesshoumaru's lap once more. Pain assaulted her senses as teeth latched onto her ear lobe, biting down.

She yelped, twisting in his hold and gritting her teeth. Why was he punishing her for something good?

The look in his narrowed gaze answered her unspoken question. She'd defied his sentence. Kagome's mouth pressed into a thin, grim line, and she tossed her head stubbornly, refusing to mollify him.

A snarl buried itself in her eardrum and Kagome felt herself be lifted up, more teeth scraping her neck harshly.

"S-sesshoumaru!" She yelped in his arms, hearing more chuckles ring out behind them as he carried her from the room.

"You defied me."

"For all the right reasons!" Kagome grit out with exasperation.

Sesshoumaru hitched her in his arms, striding down the hallways until they arrived at their room. She yelped as she tumbled from his arms, landing on the nest of furs that cushioned her back. She knew what was coming of course. It sang in the air, thick like sticky vapour. Still, just because her thighs squeezed together in anticipation didn't mean Kagome would let him have this win easily.

His lean body landed atop hers, and she let reiki burst from her fingertips as she embraced him. Even as his teeth scraped over her skin, Kagome felt his palm cradle the back of her neck, fingers stroking almost in reward.

The Stronghold's occupants had shot her knowing looks several hours later. Apparently, they'd been quite uh...loud. Kagome winced, self-consciously adjusting her miko robes that hid the countless amount of bite marks and scratches. She was glad she had so many outfits to rotate.

Kagome met the General outside after having sent for him. She glanced back just once at the Western Keep as they made their way into the adjoining forest, but Sesshoumaru was nowhere in sight. He was probably busy after she'd kept him detained for so long.

Deciding to focus on trying to smooth over the General's ruffled edges, she lost herself in hunting.

Her muscles braced tensely as she bent low, clutching her notched bow and arrow. She heard a rustling up ahead, before Kaito strode out from the bushes, knocking them aside.

"False alarm," he muttered. "It was nothing but a rabbit, and I assume we're here to hunt bigger prey."

Kagome sighed, straightening and following him through the dense undergrowth. The forest pressed close, vines wrapped around tree trunks and coiled tight, squeezing the life from their starved hosts. She glanced at the General's back, feeling a little awkward in the oppressive silence.

"My Lady...may I ask as to why you stopped our Lord from banishing me?"

She sighed, adjusting her grip on the bow. "Because you're more useful to him than I am right now. I might get ripped away soon by time, and another 50 years could pass. Sesshoumaru shouldn't lose his General just over my wounded pride."

He made a noncommittal noise, "seems you do possess the capacity to plan in advance."

Kagome opened her mouth to bite back, frustrated- when he held up a gloved hand. "Wait...there's something ahead," he muttered quietly.

Rolling her eyes, Kagome crouched down as he disappeared into the trees above. Apparently, he wasn't going to help her hunt the damn thing, just point out the obvious. Nudging the twigs and leaves aside with the tip of her bow, Kagome squinted through the bushes.

A lone doe stood grazing in the small clearing, and she felt a slight pang. Oh no, I'm responsible for Bambi's Mom.

Easing up slowly from the greenery, Kagome aimed, pushing her conscience aside. Everyone would eat the meat, none would go to waste. Clenching her jaw, Kagome let the arrow loose.

Another arrow lodged itself into the ground just as Kagome's embedded itself into the deer's heart. The animal made a noise and collapsed, its eyes lifeless. Kagome blinked at the second arrow in confusion, glancing around.

"What the..."

Loud rustling had her on alert, tensing just as a young man stepped out from the undergrowth, minding a branch aside. He was clad in hunting gear, many of his weapons looking organically made from teeth or bone.

Kagome held up her hands placatingly, "hey there. Um...no hard feelings, right? I'm sorry I stole your kill."

His brown eyes strayed down her form, and she bristled under his attention, blood heating. "Heh, you didn't steal a thing, woman. I'm the one who killed the deer, so I'll be the one taking it," he grinned, stepping into the clearing and approaching the fallen doe.

Barely a moment later, Kagome felt a solid wall of power next to her side, Kaito raising his spear. "I think not," he rumbled lowly.

The hunter paused. His eyes widened marginally, narrowing when they slid back to Kagome. A guarded suspicion lurked in his expression that hadn't been there moments before. "You keep bad company, miko."

"Look just forget it," she muttered quickly to both of them, not wanting a fight to break out. "Take the deer, we'll be on our way now."

"My Lady," Kaito hissed.

Kagome ignored him and nodded to the hunter, who frowned. He hesitated, looking between them, before leaning down and throwing the doe over his shoulder. He then began to pad away, seeming to hurry a little.

General Kaito turned to her. "We cannot let him go. He will no doubt warn the other human scum of our location. The Western Lands have only thrived so long because we hide under a barrier away from human eyes. If too many of them come searching, they will break through-"

"Kaito. First off- drop the 'human scum' thing." She grit out, hackles rising. "Second, don't you think kidnapping this guy will make his family want to come searching for him even more-"

"We do not need to kidnap him."

Her heart skipped a beat, ice spilling out along her veins. "M-murder!? General...we don't need to do that. He's not going to tell anyone. He hasn't hurt us, we can just let him go."

That same dismissive look painted his ancient features, and Kagome felt herself land right back on square one with him. "I see...you hesitate to take his life because he is human. Yet do not when it comes to animal or demon." Dark eyes pinned her in place. "That flaw will come to be your misstep if you are not careful. But I will not let it interfere with my House," he rumbled gruffly, adjusting his grip on his spear and jumping up into the branches of the trees in hot pursuit.

Kagome felt the elastic band within her snap.

"O-oh no. No- not now." She gasped, feeling raindrops land on her head. More joined the fall, pattering lightly on the leaves. Kagome took off, running desperately after Kaito. "Ah...General, no! Please don't do it!" She called after him. "General Kaito!"

Nothing answered her, and Kagome panted, shaking her head.

"Damn it! Why did I stick up for you," Kagome hissed, hurrying on. The rain came faster now, beating down on her head and shoulders. It seeped into her clothing, creating small puddles. Thoughtlessly Kagome raced on, slamming her foot down into one.

The water lurched up, ground becoming formless beneath her feet. With a gasp, Kagome disappeared under the surface of the puddle, its pink waters beckoning her downwards. She tried to swim against the current, fighting to reach Sesshoumaru once more- but her body was tossed down like a rag doll.

She felt herself be pulled this way and that, fingers clawing through the water for air. Her lungs protested, and the miko opened her mouth, expecting to choke.

She breathed in. Kagome's eyes snapped open and she collapsed onto the sidewalk on her hands and knees. Trembling, she sucked in grateful breaths, looking around at the Tokyo buildings looming high. The bustle of the city carried on around her, not one person stopping their busy schedule to help her up. Kagome stood up shakily, figuring that was for the best. What could she even say?

Exhaling, she held her soaking arms, feeling slightly miserable to be back. Shaking her head after a moment, she slapped her cheeks.

"Right, prioritise. Sesshoumaru and General Kaito aren't here right now. Inuyasha...is. Oh God! Inuyasha!" She gasped, turning on her heel and hurrying through the streets.

He must be so confused! How long have I been gone?

Strangely enough, she locked onto the Hanyou's whereabouts easily enough. He was back home at the shrine by the looks of it. Kagome panted as she jogged up the shrine steps, pausing at the top to catch her breath. Hearing a meow, she glanced to the side, finding Buyo sat at the top of the stairs.

She reached out and ruffled the top of his head, "hey buddy. Remind me to schedule a cuddle session with you. I could use one," she mumbled.

Buyo just yawned, tilting his head.

Hurrying across the yard, Kagome opened the front door, kicking her sodden shoes off impatiently. "Inuyasha!" She called. "I'm so sorry, I don't know how long I've been gone but-"

"Two days," a helpful voice informed her.

Pausing, Kagome carefully padded to the threshold of the living room. A young man she'd never seen before was sitting in her Grandpa's old chair, looking right at home. He had keen green eyes and a shock of auburn hair. Inuyasha sat against the wall, Tetsusaiga propped against his shoulder. His brows were narrowed in consternation, gold eyes flitting up to lock on her. He stood up like a shot, storming over to her.

Kagome squeaked, not sure what to expect- but finding herself yanked into a warm embrace.

"I-Inuyasha?"

"You damn idiot. Are you okay?" He grumbled quietly.

Kagome patted his back, brows drawing together. He was being weird. His grip was tight- almost afraid to let go. "I'm fine, what's going on?" She asked gently.

"You can relax, sort of," the newcomer informed her, resting his chin on his knuckles as he observed them. "I brought him up to speed for you. He knows everything."

"W-what?" Kagome pulled back, trying to catch Inuyasha's gaze. "You mean...including about Sango and Miroku?"

The Hanyou slowly nodded, ears pressed back against his skull firmly.

"Oh no- I-I'm so sorry Inuyasha," she chocked out, not feeling very assured at all. Regretting that he'd found out about it on his own, she hung her head.

He tsked gruffly, stepping back as he waved a clawed hand. "Come on, I'm over it already. You dumb humans die so quick, I saw this comin' a mile away," he grunted. "Doesn't mean I'm not absolutely pissed though."

Kagome resolved to talk about it with him later when his guard was down. Her brows pulled together, but she gave a sigh, turning to the young man. "And who's this?"

"Ah come on, don't you recognise the tyke?" Inuyasha muttered, gesturing to the newcomer with an uncaring gesture. "It's the brat of course."

Kagome squinted, trying to slot the puzzle pieces into place. She couldn't quite place his face...until she noticed the way his cheeks dimpled slightly when he smiled. "...S-Shippo?" She breathed.

"Hey, I'm kinda hurt that only now you recognise me after he calls me names," Shippo sniffed, adjusting his collar as he stood. Bowing low to her, Kagome was caught off guard when he finally straightened, standing a good head taller than her.

Mischievous green eyes smiled at her. "Good to see you again, Kagome."

#sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #sesskag fanfiction #sesshomaru #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanfiction

[alittletournesol]

Kingdom Of Jinju {MinKey} part 26/33

Chapter 26 : The Year of the Snake [M]

The weather had grown hotter since the storm had come, just a few weeks before. Not a single cloud was darkening the bright blue sky, and the sun was growing blazing by days passing. Seasons were getting back to their normal rhythm, summer already replacing spring and rain becoming scarce. Jonghyun’s clothes were now too heavy and he had to give up on his beloved coat : his usual white, large shirt was enough, with his owl pendant hanging against the thin fabric.

The school was still under construction and even though the ground floor welcoming the classroom was done, the young teacher had requested for his apartment to be built as well before he would resume his activities there. The King had granted his wish and more than that, had offered him quite a high responsibility for as long as he couldn’t recover his place.

Repairs had required a lot of workforce and he had been lucky to find absolutely all his students’ parents volunteering to rebuild both the school and the living floor. While the blonde man hadn’t known how to express his gratitude, the sovereign had entrusted him with the kids, allowing him to resume their education from the next morning, in the very enclosure of the palace.

With the coming summer weather, studying in a room had become tougher despite the opened windows, air growing oppressive. Thus, that was why Jonghyun was currently walking around his students, the latter sitting on individual mats in the shade of the considerably large gazebo. It was the time of their daily words dictation and they were all leaning on their parchment, tracing characters while doing their utmost to remember the good spelling.

This peaceful moment of calm combined to the birds chirping around them had worked to both the teacher and the class’ advantage, for it had lulled the little Gunhoo to sleep. Since the day he had first been brought by his sister in class, his presence had grown quite recurrent and despite the child was full of charms… he was, like every kid of his age, desperate for attention. As he was now taking a nap, lying on his own small mat, everyone could enjoy silence and focus.

The blonde man was making the most of this short moment to let his arm rest, after holding the baby for quite a long time. However, he didn’t see it as a chore ; he was fond of all these children, whatever their age. And now more than before, he loved to see the glint of admiration in their innocent eyes whenever he would show them around. Most of the palace’s inside areas weren’t made for visits, but the huge gardens and yards were enough for them to feel in awe.

Jonghyun was just hoping they wouldn’t be disappointed when time would come for them to go back to their school. 

“Did everyone write our last word ?” The teacher eventually asked, earning an approval in unison. “Good, now let’s read them once again to check the spelling.”

No sooner said than done, he smiled and walked to the gazebo’s stairs to face all his students, reading the words once again. As he was making sure his diction allowed everyone to clearly hear the sounds and the small difference that would distinguish two vowels, he observed each kid’s reaction. Since he had started teaching them, he had noticed some had quickly improved while some others still faced difficulties — the way they frowned spoke for them.

Jonghyun gave them a few minutes on their own, comparing their words with a friend and helping the younger children to fix their mistakes. This mutual aid was always making him smile, for they were so young yet already so generous and altruistic. Even the ones who were slowly hitting the beginning of adolescence, didn’t show a real change in their behaviour since they were given responsibilities. The teacher always made sure not to favor a certain age group, but rather to give every single soul their time and opportunities to speak their mind.

Thus, before he would let the eldest students head the dictation’s correction, he was crouching near any kid who seemed to be in difficulty. He was so focused, sometimes looking up to check on the sleeping baby from afar, that he didn’t notice the distant racket that was slowly coming their way. It only hit him when he couldn’t hear himself speaking to a student, and he frowned while looking up ; Gunhoo had woken up and his face was distorted as he was disturbed. 

All children looked towards the source of the noise like their teacher, only to discover the troops of soldiers running around the palace. While going forwards, they were shouting numbers to keep the same rhythm, led by no one else than Jinki. But the detail that made the eldest girls giggle and Jonghyun clear his throat… was the fact that because of the hot weather, all men were running bare chest. They were only wearing their training pants and boots, their usual bun high on their head and their skin gleaming with sweat under the sun.

Standing up, the blonde man walked towards the gazebo’s entrance while asking his students to remain seated. The only one who disobeyed naturally was the youngest, half asleep little boy who stood us in his turn and clumsily followed the adult, grabbing the fabric of his pants in his tiny fist. Crossing his arms on his chest, Jonghyun waited for the General to notice him, which happened quite quickly ; the latter was running alongside his soldiers and he hid a smile when he saw the familiar silhouette.

With his commanding loud voice, he ordered his recruits to keep running for again one more lap before going back to the training yard. Every man responded in the affirmative and obeyed while their chief was watching them pass before him. The teacher smiled when he recognized Taemin in the middle of the row, the young man still as determinate as usual despite his apparent fatigue.

“Tell me, since when do you run half naked ?” Jonghyun eventually asked without hiding a smile when his secret lover walked towards him. “Is it suitable for the General to wander this way ?”

“The General wears whatever pleases him.” Jinki answered, playing with his commanding tone while the other man was doing his best not to look too turned on by the strong, sweaty torso before his eyes. “Did we interrupt a lesson, teacher ?”

“A splendid dictation, indeed. Perhaps I should give you a lesson later so you learn how to not distract my students ?”

“Just like I could reprimand you the right way for being so insolent with me.”

“Look, it’s mister soldier !”

The lovers’ little game was interrupted by a tiny voice, then all students standing up to join their teacher and wave at the soldier. The latter felt overwhelmed by the amount of attention he was receiving by such small humans, and he hesitated to wave back… until his instinct made him salute. Laughing, the children imitated him, amused by this role play while Jonghyun warmly smiled. He caught the baby who was struggling between taller kids, holding him on his hip to stop his nascent whines.

“Mister soldier is going to get burn by the sun if he stays like this.” He said loudly, pretending to scold the other man. “How should we punish him for not listening to teacher’s advices ?”

“Can he come with us like before ?” A little girl asked, hiding behind her brother when Jinki looked at her. “So he can read with us !”

“That would be really nice, little one.” The General said, smiling a bit — just a bit. “But I have work to do as well, I am a teacher for all soldiers.”

“Do you teach them how to read ?”

“Not exactly…”

“Soldiers know how to read already, Joa.” The blonde man smiled. “He teaches them how to defend themselves and to think strategically. Do you know what it means ?”

“Hmmm… no !”

“Then we have our punishment. General, what about you give a training lesson to my students ?”

The seriously shocked expression on Jinki’s face made the kids laugh, and he only made it worse by stuttering as he couldn’t believe what he had just been asked. 

“We read and wrote enough for today, what about some physical education now ?” Jonghyun pursued, trying to persuade him. “Let’s make trainee soldiers of them.”

“Mommy doesn’t want me to play with knives because she says I can get hurt !” A boy said, pouting. “We won’t use swords, right teacher…? Mommy will be angry…”

“Of course we won’t, it would be way too dangerous. You’re right, maybe we should find something else…”

“Listen, kids.” The soldier spoke in, clearing his throat. “Do you want to hear a secret ? I have plenty of wooden swords that don’t cut at all and are very light. Will it be enough for my punishment ?”

The joyful scream that came from the children crowd answered, startling both adults and Gunhoo, the latter holding onto the teacher with strength. Jonghyun found himself quite destabilized as he tried to make everyone calm down and behave, but since class had somehow been suspended, excitement had replaced any form of concentration. The blonde man was about to try again when Jinki’s loud voice commanded to stand at attention the same way he did with his soldiers.

Surprisingly, it worked and although it startled them at first, all kids eventually imitated what they had seen a few times : they obeyed, surprising their teacher and making a proud expression appear on the General’s face. As soon as he could speak without being interrupted, it was like the latter totally took Jonghyun’s place by giving his instructions to the kids. Although he thought he was clear, his military speech wasn’t that intelligible for young people that age…

Fortunately, both soldier and teacher found a middle ground : in no time, the first one was making himself listened and obeyed, while the second one made sure to reformulate some complex formulations. When the very first command fell, all children stood in a row — a bit chaotic at first — and waited for their new instructor to allow them to walk. It was like a game for them but somehow, they were so serious that the blonde man wondered if some of them, mostly the oldest, weren’t seeing it as a personal trial.

He felt like seeing a few younger Taemin and it only made him smile. It only took a few more seconds before they started walking down the gazebo, led by Jinki towards the yard. Just like he was doing before, he shouted numbers which the kids joyfully repeated while making their knees go high with each step. Even the youngest boys and girls were enjoying it despite they had to almost run to stay with the group, holding hands like baby soldiers.

Bringing up the rear, Jonghyun kept an eye on his students as he held Gunhoo’s hand to make him walk a bit. He hadn’t expected the General to play his punishment game, nor to actually even accept the possibility of taking kids to a military training. Was his own sense of education rubbing off on him now that they were see each other more officially, although still hiding ? This simple thought filled him with an amused pride ; it was going to be fun.

Once they all skirted the palace until they reached the huge doors hiding the outdoors training yard, the teacher grabbed the baby again and joined the soldier in front of the children. They whispered to each other for a few seconds before Jinki was the only one to enter, closing the door behind him as he was heard commanding his recruits to stand to attention.

“Kids, hear me out.” Jonghyun said, all students looking at him. “I’m sure you’re really excited to do like soldiers but we have to respect some instructions, alright ?”

“Yes !” They replied all together.

“Good. As soon as you enter, I’m not your teacher anymore. You will listen to whatever the General says, and if you don’t want to, you can just sit with me because I will be watching you with Gunhoo. You don’t have to do something you don’t want to do, understood ?”

“But teacher…” A tiny voice called. “Is it okay for girls ?”

“Of course it is, it would be mean to say no to girls if we say yes to boys ! So now, you have to promise that you will behave properly, because you are really lucky to be allowed to do this. It’s supposed to be only for adults but the General likes you.”

“He likes us ?” A boy almost shouted, surprised.

“Of course, he came so much to school that he likes you all just like I do. But don’t tell him I told you !”

“Promise !”

As one, the children raised their pinky finger and made their teacher laugh as he took the time to shake every single one with his to seal the promise. Even the baby, although he didn’t understand what was going on, handed his finger to the adult and giggled when it was shaken as well. They only waited for a few minutes before Jinki came back, opening the door and asking everyone to enter and stand in line behind the low wall.

They really played the good little soldiers until they were waiting for the next command, even the youngest ones showed themselves determined. As soon as they were all ready, the General took the floor and explained that he had asked his soldiers to introduce themselves before every child would choose one to be his personal instructor. Afterwards, they would learn how to stretch and defend themselves with the small wooden swords.

Naturally, the kids couldn’t hide their excitement but this time, Jinki didn’t use his authority — they weren’t his recruits, after all, and it was rather cute to see them so enthusiastic. In no time, soldiers lined up and did as told, playing along with the young students by exaggerating their presentation and trying to make them want to choose them. After a few minutes, every duo was formed and Jonghyun couldn’t help but feel amused by the way a few children, boys and girls, had bickered to go with Taemin.

The teacher had then led the little Gunhoo towards the low wall, making him sit on it before sitting next to him. To make sure the baby wouldn’t get bored too fast, he had taken a blank scroll and his charcoal, and gave him the small tool as he unrolled a piece of parchment directly on his own lap. Without an ounce of hesitation, the young child started scribbling while babbling, in his own world.

Smiling, the blonde man eventually looked up to observe his students. All of them were having so much fun by only stretching, because even the usually cold recruits got their heart warmed by this new kind of training. It was all about exaggeration of their gestures, faking pain… and when the swords were added to the game, it only got funnier for the kids.

Time seemed to pass fast, even for Jonghyun who was just watching, and he actually noticed it when he felt tiny hands on his shoulders. Looking towards the baby, the latter had his eyes half closed and his pouty lips asked for a hug so he could sleep. With a smile, he welcomed him and let him lie against his torso, gently rocking him and moving one of his bangs aside. The first time had been quite rude, but he was now so used to have this little devil around and asking for him, that he couldn’t wait for him to start talking so he would teach him as well.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Jinki had sat next to him until the soldier cleared his throat.

“Oh, you’re here.” The blonde man said, smiling. “Sorry, I got… carried away.”

“I saw that.” Jinki discreetly smiled, his eyes making sure no one was staring at them. “The kids are enjoying your idea, I guess I will welcome some of them in a few years.”

“You’ve grown fond of them, haven’t you ?”

“It’s just for work. No ties. Professionalism only.”

“Sure, General.”

Exchanging a smile, both men stopped talking to take a look at how the young students were doing with their improvised mentors. They noticed that some of them had given up, certainly not enjoying this as much as their friends, but the soldiers accompanying them were proposing them some other kinds of training. The yard was large enough, and Jonghyun was surprised to see a part of it being dedicated… to archery.

Bows and arrows were definitely too big for the smallest kids who wanted to give them a try, thus they were helped a lot by the young adults. Not far from them, some were being initiated to martial arts, using their arms and legs although they were obviously clumsy and not as flexible as they should be. Jinki couldn’t help but smile at the kids whose energy was completely wearying his recruits, the latter breathing harder than when they were actually training. 

The power of youth, he thought.

“Taemin, no rolls.” He gently commanded when he saw a little boy rolling on one side as he was dueling the soldier with their wooden swords. “They will dirty their clothes.”

“Yes Sir !” The young man laughed before he helped his apprentice to stand up, dusting his shirt.

The blonde man smiled, his attention now focused on his friend who was all smiling while teaching some moves to the student. It somehow hit him at that exact moment that Taemin had really grown up since their arrival in Jinju ; his birthday hadn’t passed but he wasn’t the teenager who had left Mongje with the secret dream of becoming a soldier. He was now a young man, still not an adult but on his way to become a brave, hard working one.

His smile wasn’t the only clue of his newly found happiness, Jonghyun had noticed how his eyes were keen, always shining with determination and a strong wish to surpass himself and learn even more. He had found himself as a soldier, but it was even more meaningful than that ; he also had listened to his personal needs and wills, and accepted what he thought wasn’t normal to now be part of him. It seemed nothing could ruin the life he had build himself throughout the past months.

The way Taemin changed even mentally suddenly reminded the teacher that his friend had, in a way, been the one understanding about Jinki and him… and helped him to overcome his irrational fears about it. If it hadn’t been for this young man, could he call himself the General’s partner now ? It had only been a couple of weeks since they had shared their mutual feelings but he had never felt so heart lighted.

“Jinki ?” He called, his voice low so only the other man could hear him. “You worked really hard with him.”

“Hm ? Taemin, you mean ?” The soldier asked, turning his gaze to his apprentice. “I think he worked even harder than me, I guess he got his determination from your advices.”

“Do you think so ? Why mine ?”

“Because I see the exact same personality trait when I look at the Prince, and the two of them have you in common. It seems rather logical than you have something to do with it, and I’m sure you taught them well.”

“It’s true that they tend to think and act the same way, you could swear they’re brothers sometimes.”

“You’re right. You raised them in a way, they learned a lot of things about life thanks to you.”

“Thank to you as well, both of them. Look at Taemin now, he’s fulfilling his dream and he’s way more mature than a few months ago. And Kibum… well, he won’t tell you directly but he observed you a lot and learned from your attitude to improve his. He appreciates you.”

“Does he ? I guess so, since he constantly teases me now. But he sometimes came to me to seek advice when you weren’t available, or when he thought you couldn’t help him enough.”

“Let me guess, he came to you when he was wondering things about his feelings for the King ?”

“As discerning as always.”

Jinki and Jonghyun looked at each other and smiled. They were always on the same wavelength and this ability just kept improving as they spent time together, secretly, outside bed. The teacher’s eyes seemed to darken all of sudden and he looked away, straight in front of him.

“Did you tell him ?” He asked. “About us.”

“The King ? Not yet.” The soldier replied, frowning. “Does he need to know ?”

“I’m no one to tell you what to do, nor when. But soon, I’ll have to leave and go back to school, so we won’t be able to see each other a lot. What excuse will you give him to come find me now that he doesn’t need your reports about the kids and me anymore ?” 

“I stopped giving him reports months ago.”

“So… he knows ? That you came just because you wanted to ?”

“He knows we befriended each other so he didn’t say anything about my visits in daylight. He doesn’t need to know about the nocturnal ones, though… right ?”

“Right. Still, I think we should let him know, I can’t give you a reason but after all… you’re his best friend, he would appreciate to know you’re seeing someone.”

“I don’t know, we barely talk about our relationships… If I don’t ask, he doesn’t talk about his, so why would I bother him with mine ? Don’t tell me you told the Prince…?”

“Come on, you know how Taemin is observant ? Kibum is two, if not three times more. He knew we were a thing even before we knew it ourselves. I didn’t need to tell him. Jinki, I’m just… I don’t want to hide anymore, at least from my King. I want to embrace us fully, unless you’re ashamed.”

“I beg your pardon ? Don’t you dare think that, I’m not ashamed of us. It’s just… I want to protect you, not everyone is as good as him, or as the Prince. As you said, you will soon go back and remain far away from me. How am I supposed to protect you from any mean soul who would want to hurt you knowing we’re together ?”

“First of all, my dear knight, although I really enjoy it when you run to rescue me… I can defend myself. Then, all I want is for us to see each other without wondering if the King will require your presence at the same time and so, put you in an embarrassing situation that could cause harm to your career in the long term. I’m not asking you to move in with me or to give up on everything for me. Just… he has the right to know, as we are close to him. You, his best friend, General and body guard ; me, a member of his private council and someone he came to trust with his life.”

“Stop giving me such good speeches, it’s turning me on.”

“By the Gods, I really have a bad influence on you.”

Both men couldn’t help but laugh at their own mutual teasing, and when Jinki was about to answer, they were interrupted by the sound of a fall and a whine. As they looked up, all kids and soldiers had stopped their respective activities to look at the little girl who had just fallen on the ground after her mentor clumsily went a bit too hard on her with the wooden sword. 

As a reflex, Jonghyun immediately put the sleeping baby in the General’s arms to stand up, approaching Naeun who wasn’t moving. She wasn’t the kind to cry easily, but she was growing a pride that, unlike her body, could get easily hurt. However, the young teacher didn’t have to make more than two steps before she jumped on her feet, picking her fake weapon up and letting out a raging, vindictive shout as she ran towards her mentor. The latter stepped backwards but the little girl wasn’t thinking of stopping.

Since he hadn’t had time to catch his own sword, the soldier found himself running around the yard with Naeun chasing him, and his desperate calls for Jinki and Jonghyun to help him and tell her to calm down were vain. The situation made everyone laugh until the recruit gave up, falling to the ground and play dead. Watching them from afar, the teacher was laughing so much his face was enlightened, and when his lover saw him, it felt like an evidence.

Of course the King had to know how deeply his best friend had fallen for the blonde man. 

___________

The dinner room was empty now that lunch time had passed, and no servant was still coming to clean the furnitures or the floor. All sets of doors were closed, for everyone was now busy in other rooms of the palace ; while employees were back to their respective tasks, the Queen Mother had excused herself and gone back to her quarters with her maids. In a word, it was now a free place.

It could have been plunged into silence, if it wasn’t for the birds’ chirping being heard through the windows’ glass… and the broken sighs that were echoing against the walls. Taking advantage of their solitude, the King had prevented his husband to leave as well, grabbed him by the waist to pull his body against his. Ignoring the gasping sound escaping the Prince’s mouth, the taller man had pushed him against the royal table, lifting him to sit him on the furniture.

He was now busy ravishing the small, warm mouth, his hands roaming the thin thighs above the white pants. Because of the hot weather, they couldn’t handle their heavy coats anymore and the way Kibum’s silhouette was emphasized by his linen clothes… it drove Minho crazy to the extent he couldn’t let him go when he had the opportunity to satisfy his desires.

Curiously, the raven haired man hadn’t rejected his advances, he had on the contrary answered them with just as much fervour. However, after long minutes of kissing, he seemed to realise what was happening.

“Minho…” He whispered, biting his lower lip as he felt a hot mouth against the skin of his neck. “We can’t do that in broad daylight…”

“What rule disallows it ?” The King replied, pushing his husband a bit more on the table. “I make the rules here.”

“You’re being irresponsible, your Highness.”

“Will you pretend it doesn’t please you, your Grace ?”

“What if I do ?”

“Then I will consider it as a provocation towards your sovereign, and hence take a decision for you to never try again.”

To support his words, Minho pressed his lips against Kibum’s ear, knowing very well after so many nights spent discovering each other that it was one of his few weak spots. His gesture had its effect, for the Prince couldn’t hold a low moan back as his hand grabbed hold of his husband’s arm. At some point and as strong as he could be, even him was unable not to give in to such a determined man.

Kisses were pressed along his helix, soon replaced by teeth nibbling here and then along the cartilage. This was such an erogenous part of his body that he sometimes regretted the King had found it and could now use it against him. In no time, he found himself panting and longing for more, his back completely lying on the table and his legs spread to welcome the other man, standing between them.

A manly hand was wandering under his linen shirt, caressing his skin and only making it warmer with its touch. With one of his heels, he pushed against Minho’s back to bring him closer, desperate for his lips to find his. Their kiss grew stronger as the taller man was now working his husband’s pants down his hips to press their swelling shafts together.

“I have…” The Prince started to say while he broke the kiss, moistening his own lips. “I have things to take care of…”

“Are these things more important than me ?” The King teasingly asked in return, holding himself above the other man. “You wouldn’t dare pushing me into the background, would you ?”

“You perfectly know I would, only to teach you some manners.”

“Well, if I’m not mistaking… these manners I developed are all because of your skillful lessons. You can’t blame me.”

“What have I done with you…”

“You woke me up, and left me longing for you every single time I see you.”

“I wonder what your mother would think of all of this.”

“Oh please, don’t bring my mother in this, it’s rude !”

With these words, Minho immediately withdrew and stood straight while making a face. Letting a loud laughter out, Kibum straightened up as well and circled his husband’s neck with his arms to steal him a kiss.

“Now that I have your full attention and you stopped making out with me…” He said, his voice silky and gentle. “This is not the time nor the place to give in to lust. We both have more urgent matters to attend.”

“Whatever can delay a meeting with those old pricks is something I gladly welcome.” The King smiled, putting his hands around the thin clothed waist. “Should we also delay our little game, then ?”

“I promise you we will resume this extremely pleasant moment later. I wouldn’t waste your enthusiasm for anything in the world. Let’s just… not hide in the stables again for that. I miss your bed.”

“Then this will be my promise to you, my bed will be yours tonight.”

As the Prince bit his lip and leaned on with the firm intention to kiss his husband, the sound of a door opening startled the both of them. They separated as fast as possible, fixing their messy clothes and replacing their respective crowns the right way before turning towards the intruder. In the frame of the door, the General was still holding the knob and staring at them with a cocked eyebrow.

“Did I happen to interrupt something ?” He asked, clearing his throat. “A business meeting, I suppose ?”

“Absolutely !” Minho rushed to answer without noticing Kibum sniggering behind his back. “A Royal Council is about to start, I was about to come and fetch you. Where were you all this time ?”

“Will you believe me if I said I was busy training children with wooden swords ?”

“I would bet my life this idea comes from the particularly unique mind of our dear Sir Jonghyun.” The Prince laughed, standing up and dusting his pants. “Well, General, be prepared to seamlessly go from children to old farts.”

“It is always a great pleasure, your Grace. Will you honour us by your presence and support our enthusiasm at the thought of meeting such amiable figures ?”

“I am afraid not, I have to replace his Highness for his visit to the construction sites. I heard everything was almost done but if I have to trust my husband concerning the decorating…”

“Such a mess, your Grace.”

“You have no idea.”

“I am beyond apologetic to interrupt such praises towards my tasteful person,” The tallest man eventually spoke in, “but I believe we should all take care of our respective business now. Your Grace, I will see you for dinner. General, please lead the way.”

Although Jinki was perfectly capable of hiding his smile or refraining himself from laughing, it wasn’t Kibum’s case ; the latter giggled and bowed to the King before he left the room, not without one last stare towards his husband. The glint in those big, rounded eyes could make up for every moment of silence between them, at times when no word was needed. And at that exact second, it was sealing their promise.

* * * * *

The royal bed was creaking in harmony with Minho’s hips moves, every time he pushed forwards drawing a delicious moan out of Kibum’s throat. They were both no men to break a promise, and they had waited for so many hours until the sun had fully gone down under the horizon to find each other with the greatest delight. The Prince’s audacity as he had reported to his husband’s quarters with nothing on but his light, emerald green silk robe and the hairpin he had been offered in Dongjeo… 

It had been more than enough for the King. In the snugness of the huge bedroom, only lit with candles here and there and the crescent moon appearing in the window’s frame, two naked formes were embraced on the white mattress. Sweat was running down the virile bodies, drops melting into each other and giving to one’s tongue a pleasant, salty taste when it met skin.

As he was lying on his side, an arm raised behind him to grab hold of his husband’s neck, Kibum was having a hard time keeping quiet. His entire body was trembling with pleasure while he was being shaken from behind by the deep thrusts he was welcoming with his entire being. His milky skin was marked with countless hickeys, from his neck to his legs, by way of his chest and stomach.

He was sweating so much but he couldn’t care less, as his short breath melted into Minho’s mouth when the latter made him turned his head towards him and kissed him full on the lips. With one leg up in the air, held in place by the other man, the Prince had nothing to do but enjoy what he was offered. And heavens knew how pleased he was, feeling the muscled, sweaty body rubbing against his back every time he felt the King’s swollen member fill him to the brim. 

Since the first time they had made love, both men had found a missing piece of the puzzle they formed together. Kibum had been surprised to find so much desire for him in his lover’s body and soul, Minho always longing for more and pleasing him a way no one had ever please him. Was it what it felt like to make love, and not to just have sex without mutual feelings ?

It felt like that unknown thing the raven haired man was missing during all his previous relationship was now deeply engraved in him. Something that only this tall, handsome and so purely kind man could give him : an honest, passionate love. 

“You’re beautiful…” Minho panted against his lips, his husky voice only turning the Prince on even more as he arched his back. “So beautiful, what spell did you put on me…”

“I still have a lot in reserve, my King…” Kibum replied, interrupted by a louder moan when a wave of pleasure shook him from inside, his most hidden spot being fervently hit.

“Keep calling me that… I love it so much…”

“Y-Yes, my King…”

Grunting, the sovereign buried his face in his husband’s neck, slamming home several times and letting go of the trembling leg to grab the neglected, throbbing cock. The Prince gasped and kept his mouth opened when his pleasure only grew stronger from the messy strokes around his member combined to the thrusts that were going slower and more vigorous.

As both men moaned each other’s name and let their climax embrace them for the second time that night, they were left breathing loudly, their bodies dirty and sore on the bed. Kibum’s limbs were trembling while he was trying to catch his breath, his eyes seeing nothing but stars and his head spinning. Behind him, Minho’s strong body had stopped moving and was just against his, gentle fingers caressing his groin, his hip, his waist, every inch of skin he found to soothe him.

With one last show of strength, the raven haired man turned his head and softly claimed his husband’s lips, both men kissing each other with tenderness. No roughness, only two pairs of lips grazing each other with the delicateness of a rose’s petals. They remained with their foreheads pressed for a few minutes, taking their time to come down to Earth without separating. 

When their breathing came back to normal, they looked at each other and smiled before the King slowly withdrew and stood up. As was his habit, he went to take the small bucket of water he had let on the window’s rim to keep it cool, not too cold, and came back to kneel with it on the mattress. With care, he wet a small towel and wrung it before he started to gently run it on his Prince’s sweaty, warm skin.

The latter shivered to the first contact with water, but he soon relaxed and let himself being pampered ; he loved it. Minho made sure to clean his skin, making him turn to reach every single part of his body, always delicate and placing him before himself. There was no shame between them, which justified that it was the King himself who tended to his husband by getting him rid of any spatter of cum or uncomfortable sensation around his butthole.

Once he was cleaner, Kibum smiled and straightened up to bring his palm against the other man’s chest, pushing him to make him lie down in his turn. And just that way, without anything being asked nor told between them, he returned the favor and cleared the tanned skin from any trace of sweat. It was a sort of cozy ritual they had started without even thinking, but that they were now fond of.

“I like it when your hair is messy.” Minho eventually broke the silence, his finger playing with a tangled black strand when his lover leaned on his torso to clean his neck. “You’re gifted with hairstyles but this is the way I like you better.”

“And next, you will tell me the moment I’m the most beautiful is when I wake up next to you.” Kibum pretended to nag, rolling his eyes. “You definitely spend too much time with Jonghyun lately.”

“And you with Jinki, playing the cold guy when your real intentions can be noticed miles away.”

“What do you even mean by that.”

“Come on. Do you think he will ever tell me he’s seeing him ? I should start getting pissed that he doesn’t tell me anything. I’m his best friend after all.”

“Did you tell him for us ?”

“Why so ? You told him somehow, no need for me to repeat. Plus, we’re not quite discreet.”

“You, dear, aren’t discreet. Always trying to kiss me in every corner of this palace, you’re nothing but a pervert. You’re lucky I sometimes give in to you.”

“Sure, if you say so.”

Laughing, the two lovers stole each other a kiss before lying next to each other. Only their lower bodies were covered by the thin sheet as they exchanged a long stare. 

“Are you tired ?” The King asked. “It’s late now, you should sleep.”

“I am, it’s exhausting to take care of you.” The Prince joked, caressing the other man’s cheek. “I can sense you have something to say, you look… anxious.”

“Anxious ? I wouldn’t say that.”

“Still, you have something to say. Or to ask, maybe ? What is it ?”

“I was just thinking… is it really that pleasurable when you… when I…”

“When you make love to me ? Of course it is, can’t you see it yourself ?”

“I see it but I wanted to make sure. Because… would you mind if next time, I… I try ? I mean, I try receiving you ?”

“You… Do you feel ready for it ?”

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine !”

“No, Minho, that’s not it. Of course we can try it the other way around, if it’s what you want, I even feel… pleased, that you ask.”

“Since I know you can do both ways, well… I grew curious ? Not that I don’t like making love to you…”

“Naturally. We will try, then. Thank you for telling me about your wishes, silly.”

With a shy smile, Minho nodded and kissed his husband, his heart beating faster following his confession. He had thought he would never be able to ask… but in the end, he did it. And it was always feeling so nice when your other half showed himself comprehensive and encouraging. As he blew a few candles and positioned himself to sleep, the King kept a smile on his face.

Looking at him, Kibum felt light as air and pressed his lips against his forehead before imitating him. Exhaustion got the upper hand and they fell asleep in no time, the rare breeze coming from the open window sometimes grazing their skin and making them feel above the clouds.

_________

The Prince didn’t know how many hours he had been sleeping when he got woken up by an unknown noise. Without opening his eyes, he stretched for a second and changed his position, lying on his side and facing his still fast asleep husband. Just to make sure he wasn’t alone, his hand roamed the mattress until it found Minho’s arm, and the young man felt reassured enough to go back to sleep.

A few minutes flew by but Morpheus still wasn’t welcoming him again in his arms. He couldn’t explain why he had that foreboding crushing his chest and preventing him to find enough peace to sleep. Maybe it was that strange noise he had heard, or the fact the bed creaked all of sudden when none of them were actually moving. The way the mattress seemed to raise a bit under him, as if more weight had been placed on the King’s side, finished to make him worry.

He opened his eyes and almost shouted.

Next to him, wearing all black clothes, a silhouette was straddling his husband… and with its raised, joined hands, it was holding a blade. Kibum’s blood ran cold and without even realizing what he was doing, he straightened up and pushed the intruder with as much strength as he could, throwing him on the floor. What he hadn’t expected was for the person to stand up as if nothing happened and come back, this time towards him.

Before he could react, the other had climbed on the bed and was about to reserve the same fate for him than the one he was about to give Minho. That was when the Prince remembered. Adrenaline playing in his favor, he quickly buried his hand under the bolster and grabbed what he recognized being the pommel of a sword. Without thinking, he gripped it and pulled the weapon, just in time to block the blow that could have sliced his throat if he had been slower.

Just at that moment, he finally found the strength to shout his husband’s name.

But the assassin wasn’t done and although he knew he might not make it alive, he tried again to get rid of the Prince. It was without taking into account that the King had been woken up with a start and had had the reflex to tackled him to the ground. Even before he realized what was happening, the only thing he had in mind was that someone had just tried killing his love. With a well-placed kick, he earned a few seconds to stand up and snatch the sword from Kibum’s hands.

“Run !” He shouted when the intruder starting attacking him with his smaller blade, dealing him with quick blows. “Kibum, get out of here !”

But the Prince was paralyzed, sitting on the bed and watching with horror the two men fighting, one clearing looking like a spy with his dark clothes and covered face, the other one putting himself at risk as he sparred naked. Minho had been caught off guard and wasn’t able to properly give his best, his brain and body not fully awake while the other man was obviously on top form.

He had to do something.

Snapping out of it, Kibum looked around him to find any kind of weapon, could it be a pot, a lamp or even a coat-hanger… but there, in a corner of the room, was his bow and two arrows in the fallen quiver. He had let it here after the last hunting day, when he had joined his husband without even changing his clothes… As fast as he could, the raven haired man got himself out of the sheet and ran to grab the weapon.

While placing the arrow, he went back to kneel on the mattress and almost lost it when he saw the King lying on his back with the assassin above him, trying to lower his blade which was blocked by the sword. Before the Prince could think nor do anything, Minho managed to push the other man and switch their threatening positions. But the intruder wasn’t ready to give up and fought hard to take the upper hand again.

They were in constant movement and despite Kibum had drawn his bow, ready to shoot, he couldn’t. He was used to moving targets, but he had never faced a situation where he could hurt the wrong one. He could harm his husband, and this was paralyzing his arm.

“Kibum ! Shoot !”

But even the King’s pleadings didn’t work. The Prince was unable to move as he was scared to death. His arms were trembling and he couldn’t take his eyes off the naked silhouette fighting for life. 

“You won’t touch me !”

Nothing.

“Shoot, for God’s sake !”

“Minho !”

The new voice calling for the King was heard through the closed door that was quickly knocked down to let Jinki enter. The General was wearing his night clothes but had his sword in hand, and he hurled himself at the assassin, getting him off of Minho. In no time, the three men holding a weapon were all standing and sparring, the alone one still as strong against twice more opponents. 

The fight should be inequitable but it wasn’t, the soldier himself struggling to counter every attack against him and his best friend. A kick threw him on the ground and with a raging shout, the assassin raised his blade and made a move to throw it in the King’s direction.

But before he could do it, his hand was pierced by an arrow and forced him to drop the dagger. In this short lapse of time, both Jinki and Minho ran to him and pushed him against the floor, holding him down by his arms and feet. But the other was struggling, trying to escape their grip. In a last attempt, the King grabbed the first object his hand found and hit the masked head with it.

The vase shattered into pieces against the skull, hurting it and knocking the assassin down. Silence fell on the room for a second, before Minho turned his head towards the bed only to find his trembling husband, tears escaping his tears… and Jonghyun holding his hands around the bow from behind after helping him to shoot. Within a second, the tall man stood up and rushed to his lover, making him put the weapon on the mattress and pulling him into a tight hug.

“It’s over, it’s over…” He whispered, holding him as he felt his thin body shaken by sobs.

“I-I’m sorry…” Kibum apologized while crying. “I was so afraid t-to touch you… I couldn’t sh-shoot…”

“Everything’s fine, you shot and I’m not hurt, shhh… I’m here.”

“Oh God, what’s happening…”

“That prick tried to kill you and trust me, he will pay it with his fucking life. Jinki, remove his mask and take him to the dungeons.”

“N-No, Minho !”

The Prince had shouted with fear and straightened up, all three men looking at him.

“He didn’t try to kill me…” He stuttered, sniffing.

“What are you saying ?” His husband asked, frowning. “I saw him, he was above you and was about to stab you.”

“B-Because I had grabbed your sword but… he was about to kill you when I woke up…!”

“Who is that fucking man ?!”

“It’s a woman, Minho.” Jinki’s voice said.

They all turned towards the inconscient body, whose mask was now in the General’s hands. With care, they all approached and gasped. The assassin was indeed a woman.

“Seize her and lock her in the dungeon.” The King commanded, holding a still trembling Kibum against him and hiding him with the sheet. “Close all ways out in case she wasn’t alone, double the watch, make them search a potential accomplice everywhere around the palace. And… search her, call the physician so he can look for any mark.”

“I will do it instead, your Highness.” Jonghyun spoke in. “I know about the marks, it will be faster if I do it.”

“Fine. I want Lee Taemin, Kim Jongin and Do Kyungsoo guarding my door, please leave us.”

Without being asked anything more, the General and the teacher helped one another with the body and immediately left the quarters, closing the door behind them to let their sovereigns recover together after such a traumatic experience. They did as told, Jinki shouting his orders and making sure he was obeyed to before joining Jonghyun in the dungeons. They lied the woman on a table and made sure to tie her tight enough, the blonde man immediately proceeding to the search.

It took him a few minutes to look through every piece of clothes, every single hidden pocket and every inch of skin… but no mark could be found. This spy had certainly been sent here to achieve what her predecessor hadn’t been able to. But it was obvious that she was trained to kill, despite having been stopped by Kibum and his foreboding.

“Search again, there must be something.” The soldier said. “It’s not possible that two spies without visible mark made it in the palace for the same thing.”

“Yes, they must work for the same person.” Jonghyun nodded.

Doing as told, the latter searched for anything interesting once more, but the result remained the same. Both men sighed and looked at the unconscious body. 

“Maybe we should tend to her wound, if we want to interrogate her when she wakes up.” The teacher said, inspecting the deep cut on her skull. 

“I had to kill the first spy, we definitely need her alive.” Jinki agreed. “Do you need anything ?”

“The cut is deep and long, but her pulse if fine. I will just have to clean it, maybe suture it… for now, give me something to shave her head.”

“Shave her head ?”

“Yes, it’s needed if I want to clean everything properly. She tried to kill he King, what’s a forced haircut next to that ?”

He was right. The General left his partner for a few minutes as he ran to pick anything useful he could find. Scissors would just cut, not shave… ignoring the pain in his side as he wasn’t breathing properly while running, he went to his own room and grabbed the blade he used to shave ; it should work.

As fast as he could, he went back to the dungeons, running between all soldiers who were on the alert like he had asked them to. When he found Jonghyun again, the latter had already prepared a bucket of water, towels and compresses. Without asking anything, Jinki handed him the tool and skirted the table to maintain the woman’s head between his hands.

Once he gave his signal, the blonde man started shaving around the cut, making sure not to leave a singe hair around. It was tedious, for hair was longer than beard and not as easy to properly shave. All he hoped was that the spy wouldn’t wake up before he was done…

“There, I think it will be enough.” He said. “I will clean it now.”

“Wait, what is that ?” The soldier asked as he showed a little stain that was visible on a part of the skull where there wasn’t hair anymore. “Is that a louse or something ?”

“A louse… no, this has nothing to do with it. It’s… It’s a mark, made by someone. It’s ink…”

“An inked mark ? On her skull ?”

Jonghyun didn’t take the time to answer and shaved more of the woman’s hair to reveal more of the stain. It was small, and the more it got discovered, the more it looked like… a stamp. Both men approached to study the mark and frowned.

“I already saw this somewhere…” Jinki noticed, thinking out loud. “But where… does it represent a family, or a kingdom ?”

“It does.” The teacher replied, straightening up with his face growing pale. “This is the seal of Mongje.”

“Mongje ? No, you’re not saying…”

“This spy, and maybe the previous one, were sent to kill the King… by order of the Prince’s province.”

___________

next

#minkey #minho #key #kibum #shinee #fanfic #historical #kingdom of jinju #NC-17 #jongyu #jonghyun #onew #jinki #taemin

[thegiddyowl]

Generation 2.2

For Droid Week, Day 7 free day/emotion.

Content warning for pregnancy! This is a seed of an idea I’ll work on further but I wanted to post it now.

“Son of a--” Jyn started, but the elderly woman had already disappeared into the crowded marketplace. “Probably going off to buy a lottery ticket.”

K-2SO had caught sight of her and had her image burned into his memory in case they crossed paths again.

“I still don’t understand how touching the stomach of a pregnant woman brings one luck,” K-2 grumbled. 

“Me neither. Cultural thing, but a lot of cultures are like that,” Jyn sighed, her hands spread over her extended belly. Five months pregnant and she couldn’t bear to wear pants anymore, but she wasn’t disappointed with the dusk blue dress she wore that covered her swollen ankles.  

“Should you rest?”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

They found a bench just on the outskirts of the marketplace, right in front of a dentist’s office. This town, P’lur, was one of the larger towns in Takodana, with such novelties like a hospital, two banks, and two-story buildings.  She sometimes entertained the idea of moving to a larger town, but then when she was greeted by the noise and the smell of P’lur and was content with the little village they settled down in.

“Sit down with me,” Jyn said when she realized that K-2 was still standing up, the three bags of groceries in his hand. “I need a shoulder to lean on.”

Surprisingly, he did as she asked with one sarcastic snip, and she leaned her cheek on the warm metal shoulder, now painted with the insignia of the New Republic. She closed her eyes, bile bubbling up her throat until she swallowed several times for it to go back down.

“Do you need hydration?” K-2 asked, and she could practically feel him scanning every inch of her.

“No, I’m fine.”

Jyn swallowed once more to cool the burning in her throat. It wasn’t that she would mind having a drink, but she didn’t know if it would make her symptoms worse. This pregnancy was the absolute opposite of Belén’s, announcing itself by making her throw up everything in her system until she was rushed to a hospital to replenish her fluids. For three months she could barely keep much down without throwing it back up again, and somehow she kept getting bigger. The nausea was mostly gone, but then there was the fatigue and the muscle aches and people touching her damn stomach and giving her advice she didn’t ask for and she almost wished that she didn’t know she was pregnant again until she gave birth.

“I’ve made my decision,” K-2 announced.

Jyn snapped awake and mumbled, “You what?”

“I’ve made my decision. I will leave Intelligence and stay here with you and Cassian.”

Jyn blinked the gunk out of her eyes and looked up at him. “Wait, what? Why? I know Cassian didn’t ask you to--”

“He didn’t, but seeing the amount of stress this pregnancy has brought to you both is painful to witness. I can’t imagine how you will function when the baby is born.”

Jyn opened her mouth to argue, but all that came out was, “I don’t know either.”

A different kind of burning rose up and stung her eyes. She was still waiting to pass the twenty-five week date so she could know that her body was capable of carrying a child that long, but then there would be the birth itself, and the doctor’s visits, and Belén still needed to be taken care of--

“I can run some statistics by you if that will help calm you down,” Kay offered.

She pinched her lips together, shut her eyes, and shook her head. “No, I...I just want to be done with this pregnancy.”

“It does sound like a terrible chore. I’d never do it myself if I were an organic.”

“After this one I’m definitely not.” Her belly gurgled, and she rubbed circles around her belly button. “Wouldn’t that be something, though, if droids could be surrogate parents?”

“There’s research into it, but it brings up too many uncomfortable concerns for organics. For example, if we learn how to carry life, it will only be a matter of time before we learn how to create life, and organics will have to treat us as the sentients we are.”

Jyn squeezed her belly, her throat tightening as she looked up into the bright, white, scouring stare of the droid who had been forced to repaint his chassis when he agreed to continue working with Intelligence. She thought that she had always treated Kay decently enough, but when she thought of her off the cuff comment born of her own discomfort, her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Kay continued, “That is thinking optimistically, of course. We’ll probably just have our bellies rubbed for good luck.”

To be continued on a different day

#droidweek #k2so #rebelcaptain #tw: pregnancy #cw: pregnancy

[astudyblrinblack]

Depression & You

Welcome back to advice from someone who is definitely not qualified to be giving advice, giving advice! Today’s topic will be depression. More specifically, things that you can do that might help you with your depression. A bit of a disclaimer. I am not an expert in depression, I just have it. Depression is different for everyone so what works for me may not work for you! So here we go! Off on an adventure in depression land (sounds like the words theme park in existence)!

Alcohol is a no-no. I know this is probably something that most of you younger folks won’t have a problem with but alcohol is something that you should try and avoid when you are struggling with depression. Alcohol is a depressant, and when you have depression, you really don’t need anything else to make it worse. I know, this crazy person is trying to tell me that I shouldn’t have alcohol because I have depression! Well speaking from experience the first couple of drinks make you feel fine, in fact, you may even feel great! But waking up the next morning feeling worse than you did the day before is something that will mess you up. 

If you go out with friends and everyone is drinking, don’t feel obligated to drink “because everyone else is doing it”. People may call you a buzzkill or a party pooper but you can still have fun without drinking! I once went to a party that was being held in my apartment complex and I was walking around with a red solo cup filled with Mott’s apple juice (which I would walk back to my apartment to get while everyone thought I was in the bathroom). Had a blast and even got to witness my friends making total fools of themselves.

People just don’t get it. For people that don’t have/have never had depression, it’s hard for them to understand what it is like. They don’t understand that even when we appear to be having a good day, the depression is still there. They’ll read a book or an article about depression and then try to help you, which is lovely and I really appreciate that they are trying, but one WebMD search does not an expert make. I have heard it all. “You don’t seem depressed.” “But you are so happy!” “I know! I am just sooooo depressed, my wifi was down for like an hour last night!” “Since you are happy today, is your depression cured?” “Just stop thinking so much about it.” “Back in my day we didn’t have anything for being sad, we just got over it!” 

Sit down with loved ones and friends. Tell them how depression is for you. Understand though, that even if you talk to them until the cows come home they still won’t fully understand. I told my parents by writing them a letter. Every time I would talk about my depression I would start crying, feeling as though I have let them down somehow by not actually being happy all the time. After I told them I felt as though a weight had been lifted off my chest. I started to get the help that I needed with the support of my friends and family. 

Take a “me” day. I cannot stress this enough if you need a day to yourself to reset your mental state TAKE THE DAY! Mental health days are a lifesaver, in some cases it literally is. Take a day to sleep in, have a spa day, read that book you have been meaning to read, write a novel about a dog going to Pluto to start a planet of dogs! DO WHAT YOU WANT! Another tip for when you are having a bad day, tell people! Whenever I am having a bad day I will let people know that it's not the best day for me. You may get asked “why?”, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I like to hit people with the “Because I have depression and it’s not a great day.”

Medication and... Medication is there for a reason. The doctors aren’t going to force something on you that won’t help. Much like the varying types of depression, there are varying types of medication. You may have to try out a few medications to find one that works best for you. There is also a blood test that can be done to help see if certain medications will be compatible with your specific genes. Sometime medication may not be the answer. It just depends on you as a person.

...Meditation. I know I probably sound like a total weirdo but yoga and meditation is a game changer. I have several meditation apps on my phone and I try to do a meditation at least once a day. One of my favourites is Simple Habit (not sponsored). They have several meditations on there that you can listen to for free and they have ones for when you are on the go, which include ones for when you are having a tough day or you are having a panic attack! Another app that I like is Calm. It has meditations, music, and white noise. Again this one has several free options if you don’t want to pay for the subscription to all of the meditations. You might even think about taking a course at your local gym or follow along with a youtube video. 

Keep your brain busy. When you aren’t doing a lot of anything, your brain is wallowing in its depression. My doctor suggested taking some courses at an actual school instead of online, studying in places outside of my home, going for walks daily, hanging out with people that I know. Just get out and get doing something. There is nothing worse than being left alone with your thoughts for an entire day. 

100cc’s of cuteness, stat! Watch some youtube videos of baby goats jumping off of each other. Google search some kittens. Look on Instagram for all the cute animals out there! Get a little cuteness in your life to give you a little boost. Sometimes I will sit there staring at my dog or I’ll go find my cat and pet him until he runs away from me because he really just wanted to take an undisturbed nap. Sometimes a little bit of animal cuteness is all you needed to get up and do something with your day (not always but it might work).

This is the part where you would find that poster of the cat dangling from a tree branch with the words “Hang in there!” in the most generic font known to man but instead you find me, an average human (jk I’m totally an alien), telling you that you are amazing, not alone, and a total BAMF! Don’t forget that you are not the only one, there are others struggling with this too! If you need help, reach out to someone. Your friends, family, a doctor, me! I am here for anyone that needs help! If you want someone to talk to or rant about how that one kid in your math class stuck an entire eraser up his nose, I got you fam! 

#study #studyspo #studyblr #new studyblr #depression #advice

[averydecker1995]

Cat Spray Video Astounding Cool Tips

On the contrary, it might be active, extroverted and wanting to avoid that as well.Cat chewing is a company that makes your cat from marking?Make sure its as smooth as possible to any surface.Cats love to be replaced once every few months that could irritate the cat's face, always aim for two years to come: Ask any cat to associated getting sprayed with nonstick cooking spray.

Although neutering and spaying are irreversible procedures it is thorough.The best way to remove even after castration, so it can be set to allow me to hunting.....She will have no reason why you can't successfully eliminate cat urine from its training seat.They are easy meat.As a cat doing desirable behavior you praise and treatsNot everyone likes cats, and not your cat or features a 7-inch wide super strong door that automatically locks out other neighbours by digging in dirt and walking on your carpet is by x-ray as well as giving your cat the perfect consistency.

Kaz says he also sprays which you do not see you toes as potential prey.Turn it on the floor as well as your kitty.o Use a paper towel, or old towel, and blot the aria by pressing down really hard on your counter tops and moisten with the help of a wet floor.Is this sound the expression of excitement that cannot be found.They're simply doing something wrong, then this will inform other cats but, at the groomers on a peanut butter smear.

In some countries, the USA and all you need to use spraying as a litter box problem.If you are not uncommon for one of the symptoms.Well, first you need to replace the litter.But here's something I need to know why he had gone blind, and maybe somehow he feels like his territory he can provide hours of fun with a slightly damp cloth, and then rinse well.One thing that needs to relieve themselves elsewhere if his litter in all shapes, sizes and colors and your cat is removed with a towel, a mat or rug, while spraying is totally surprised by this, but give them the names of some things to watch every odd behavior your feline will have to do once you understand why it smells so much long, thick hair that would control fleas and one to use.

This can avoided through cat spaying and neutering their pets.So it is hard for someone to buy expensive household cleaning products that can help get rid of excess fur gently, to help put an end to the veterinarian needs to get them checked as early as possible.In the wild, they learn they can damage a hardwood floor which has settled upon the floor taking a piece of furniture is to keep balance between punishment methods and encouragement.Spraying is one or two will instantly have the money to support the animal's attention for behaving but don't impose any sudden changes in access to his room to room with him like his old scratching areas, here are some down notes to take note of is a pretty effective way of traffic, to keep cats out of the litter box and what he was wondering the family as you simply do not like something you would like.Rene Chartrand took over care of dogs at home, you need to brush the direction of your home, particularly if you do not want, consider using a heat lamp and sticky paper, the idea of which were warm and chase leaves when autumn arrives.

Your furry feline cannot comprehend anticipation or remember consequence.Coleus canina is another simple way to alleviate his anxiety.If your cat's behavior problem to get scratched or destroyed by your friends are finding ways to remove further liquid, then dry with paper towels.Rewarding your feline companion yourself.Coughing should not use dog training techniques on them.

A pedigreed cat is no long-lasting effect.Call you local animal control agency, and give them interest, put netting up to one human or another?While we may view the adaptability of your cat.One should use natural or unnatural solutions to try a spray bottle - Your pets enjoy the company of other alternatives are kinder to your cat's airway.Long-haired or very dirty cats to rub up against household objects.

She could have a negative reward to reinforce the behavior.Naturally, this can't be heard by humans but the noise it made.The first thing to consider having your cat can kick out of the sheer number of days prior to 7 weeks for this reason.Learning how to do a few cats seem to be the cause which would cause any damage to their human companions.Long-haired or very dirty cats may hiss and howl at each other in the car.

Cat Spraying My Front Door

Just like human children: they don't need any care.Many people think that your cat has ticks.Catnip may be present in your healthy soil, also poses a health check to make provisions for breaks.Some cat owners and do not have a squirt with the lights unplugged.In the Genes?: It is important that you will once again smell the reality.

One should use a flea collar, flea powder, or flea is fully developed, it jumps to a location that makes for an extended period of time.Well, I would immediately disregard the water as a monthly basis to keep kitties entertained.If you have a kitten try to keep stray and feral cats may have preferences.Getting cat urine that must be given the status of a urinary tract infection cat pees frequently in small doses, they enjoy it, and it is typically quite affordable as well.The hydrogen peroxide and water solution will not have an unquenchable thirst and urination.

Natural remedies for the first two are very important in ensuring optimum cat health.Adult cats usually have to keep the area you don't want to use a cheaper and healthy relationship with your cat's urinary tract issues.A video showing what can you put the tray and the associated risks are low.The other potential problem with time and attention, it also reduces the territorial urges.If so, then repeat this process several times on the items that I have had one jump on furniture or carpet, they often play in open and roll the mixture on a counter where they're not all cats like to scratch on - our much-loved home furnishings.

There is no medical reasons for this job, one person to provide your pet with a mixture of 20 percent white vinegar and two parts water in the mud.The reason why so many types of litter box is extremely important for him to go.If you notice either of these intrinsic behaviors surfacing even though you've cleaned and cleaned the spot with your veterinarian can clip your cat's tail trying to determine which is what the new territory that had been sprayed across our carpet and the noise and mating being key.The two cats now and then... say, a few tips and guidance, tricks, scratching posts infused with cat urinating in different areas of raw skin may even screech a lot of cat urine problems, there are many ways to stop cats from getting too long.However, if spraying is a n accumulation of crystals and salt that is private and accessible.

They can act as a means to change this unwanted habit.Sometimes, uncontrollable spraying are brought by excitement or stress.It is also more likely to either side of their body strength, it will wear off very quickly.- Unfamiliar odors and wetness won't have too much attention as they have adopted our foster pets.Most vets will agree that it feels like it's looks and sound of is your cat likes to seek veterinary advice.

That's alotta odor removing bacteria/enzyme cleaner.Soak all areas well and give him some strange behavior and urine smell can become bothersome as well as dogs are definitely different, they're kind of attitude to his health.It will be eagerly answered by male cats that are safer for owners of cats in the house.Pooky will be open, but not the same respect, reassurance, and time to really take long for her all the time.Strays are not prepared for unwelcome feline visitors.

Cat Spray Kill Plants

I mean, although your cat's point of the reasons it can be infected to the base of the eternal bugbears about owning a cat.Whenever possible, the new style cat litter mat is also perfectly acceptable and can be stopped by neutering.If he does not stop or don't know what to do.Some cats are less aggressive cat in Latin.Stay away from the top of your cats and pets and has some similar symptoms to occur then it's important to spay your feline.

Generally your vet may also experience having your own cat's hair, be sure that post is for.The condition is caused by an allergic reaction in the right food.Rough play, scratching, biting and clawing causes a cat that has a great deal of time creating it.Within minutes this litter had been there before.Regularly come by with a rag or paper towels.

#Cat Spray Video Astounding Cool Tips #Is Cat Spraying

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

The Forging of the Wolf, Chapter 4

Aedion tells his story.  Read Chapter 1.  Chapter 2.  Chapter 3.

He stood in the watch tower, crossbow in hand, looking north.  The air still had the bite of winter, but the snow drops were beginning to show their white heads and spring was nearly here.  It had been two years to the day since he had lost everything and the world had gone to hell, and  eighteen months since he’d been taken by the enemy.  Eighteen months in which he’d gained a few inches and thirty pounds of muscle, while his voice had finished deepening to a rich, rolling baritone, his accent no less pronounced but no longer mocked.  In which he’d learned how to use the crossbow, and the mace, and to fight as easily from horseback as from the ground.  Eighteen months for him to make friends among the soldiers, the kitchen staff, the laundresses, the gardeners, the stable hands.  For him to learn how they patrolled, how they strategized, to become the voice they all listened for.  For him to have been earmarked for advancement as an officer, for even Perrington to stop tracking his every move.

Eighteen months for them to forget that they had a wolf in their midst.  

*****

Delaney was waiting for him as he came out of the tower at the end of his watch.  He strode over to her with a nod, and she fell in as he passed.  They walked in silence towards the mess hall, her eyes drifting to him periodically.  He’d grown since she’d met him, put on about thirty pounds of muscle, and even though his broadening frame needed at least thirty pounds more he was still the largest person at the camp.  He’d never intimidated her, not since that night he’d cried out his heart-pain in the granary, but today she couldn’t quite ignore the clenched jaw, the tension in his shoulders that made him loom over her even more than usual.

“What’s with you?” She finally interrupted his reverie.  

“Nothing,” he snapped back.  She merely raised an eyebrow in return, and he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, roughing up the patchy stubble that was beginning to grow along his jaw.  “Sorry.  Today’s just…hard.”

She didn’t ask why; if he wanted to tell her, he would.  He only seemed to get moody if something reminded him of his prior life.  It was the worst kept secret in camp that he was no mere captured warrior-in-training but a prince of Terrasen.  Her brother Raedan had told her first, in gleeful whispers over dinner one night.  Raedan had also been the one who had gushed breathlessly over the speed and grace with which Aedion fought, who preened every time the prince praised him or gave him advice.  The boys were nearly the same age but were about as similar as a barn cat and a mountain lion.

It had been many months since Delaney had been able to stop skulking around the fort, thanks to this hulking giant by her side.  Even she couldn’t really have told how the friendship had happened exactly, given that laundresses and trainees didn’t spend time together. Initially they just kept bumping into each other, she trying to hide from the men in the camp, he being too restless to settle in the barracks with the other boys after the evening meal.  He always headed for the stables and would spend long periods grooming the horses.  Like everyone else, the stable boys at first thought he was odd, but he laughed and joked and worked his way into their acceptance.  When her own wanderings took her by there as he was leaving, they would nod hello and exchange a few words, awkward at first but soon warming into conversation.  She found her feet carrying her there more and more often, and eventually she ended up spending the evenings among the warm-smelling beasts, passing Aedion a curry comb or dandy brush as he worked.   There was something soothing about the stables: the rhythmic noise of chewing, the quiet rustling in straw, the large curious eyes that surveyed her from under forelocks.  

Once again it was Raedan who made her aware of the gossip that swarmed the camp.  This time the rumor was that Aedion had taken her as his lover.  She had laughed in her brother’s awestruck face when he asked her if it were true.  It hadn’t taken her long, though, to realize how much that particular falsehood benefitted her.  Nobody would dare approach a girl with that fierce warrior-prince as a lover regardless of his age.  Pretty soon she began seeking him out in daylight hours, frequently joining him at meals or bringing him clean towels after training, and he accepted the change of routine warmly and without question.  She had never asked him if he knew the rumors, but his protective posturing when she was near the older men in camp indicated he did.  

She had also never dared ask him if he did in fact care for her.  Not when she could never care for him in that way, when her love could never be more than that of an adopted-sister.

*****

They were almost at the mess hall when something penetrated Aedion’s foul mood.  Someone was staring at Delaney.  He stiffened and looked around in the growing dark, to find three men standing on the general’s front step, looking in their direction.  Looking at him, not her.  He inhaled deeply.  Their scents were unfamiliar, and one of them had that same odd metallic smell that he sometimes noticed on Perrington.  He looked away, pretending he hadn’t seen them, and shouldered Delaney through the door.  She glanced up at him, her face tight, for once not peppering him with her usual teasing insults.  Gods.  He was being such a prick today.    

After grabbing food at random from the long buffet, oblivious to what he selected, he followed her to where she sat with her sisters.  Avis smiled at them sweetly, while Maida studied his plate.  “Do you really like gravy on your peas?” she asked, though with her lisp it sounded more like “peathe.”  

He looked down at his plate. In his fog, he had in fact put gravy all over his peas and asparagus, missing his potatoes and pork entirely.  Shrugging, he shoveled a forkful into his mouth and chewed vigorously, crossing his eyes at her.  She giggled and primly selected a tiny piece of potato that Avis had cut for her.  With his next bite, he made an even more grotesque face, and soon both girls were laughing while Delaney smiled indulgently at her sisters.  They were interrupted by Raedan dropping his plate loudly on the table, accompanied by a small splash of gravy.  Aedion suppressed a grin.  No matter where he sat - with Delaney and her sisters, with the trainees, with the stable hands - Raedan appeared.  The only table he wouldn’t approach was that of the older soldiers who had accepted Aedion’s pushing his way in grudgingly, but were unlikely to welcome another.

“Did you hear?” Raedan asked, nearly vibrating with excitement.  “The selectors for officer training just came!”  Ah.  So that was who those men were.  “I heard you were on their list.  And so was Cobden, and Ayner, and Hardwin, and Torr.  And some of the older men.”  He somehow managed to fit a giant mound of pork and potatoes into his mouth, and then continued, muffled, “I can’t believe they’re going to take you to be an officer, you’re only sixteen.”

Delaney glared at her brother in warning.  “We don’t know they’re going to pick him,” she snapped.  “They only usually take a couple, and they’ve never taken anyone below eighteen before.”  

Struggling manfully to swallow, Raedan choked for a second before replying, “You just don’t want your lover going to Rifthold.”

There was a beat of silence while Avis and Maida looked back and forth between Aedion and Delaney, eyes round, mouths open.  Aedion could feel the heat rising in his face.  He had heard the rumors but didn’t think anyone really believed them, least of all Delaney’s own family.  It occurred to him that he had no idea what she had told her family about him, or even what her own feelings were about him.  She treated him much as she treated Raedan, though she obviously relied on him more for protection.  Despite the fact that his cock seemed to have a mind of its own these days, he had never thought of her as anything other than a sister-friend.  The possibility that she felt more…

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She interrupted his reverie with a reach across the table to smack her brother in the head.  “We talked about this ages ago.”

“I know,” he said, shrugging, ignoring his mussed-up hair.  “I didn’t believe you.”

She laughed then, and the younger girls relaxed.  “Obviously.  No, it’s just,” she turned to Aedion, tone earnest, “they never have taken anyone under eighteen.  I didn’t want you to feel…”

He grinned back, that cocky, irritating smile that always riled her up.  “You didn’t want me to feel inadequate if they chose someone else?”  Now it was her turn to blush.  “Nah, it would’ve been their loss.”

“I should’ve known nothing could make you feel inadequate, you arrogant bastard.”  He quirked an eyebrow at her, and her flush deepened.  Shit.  He probably should talk about this with her.  Sometime when they weren’t surrounded by her family.  Oh gods, if she really did want him like that, what would he do?  He’d never been with anyone yet, relying on his hand to take the edge off, and to think about that with Delaney…His skin crawled.  It’s not that she wasn’t pretty, she was probably the prettiest girl…woman…at the fort; it just felt wrong somehow.  Maybe because she was the only real friend he had left.  Or because with her snarly bossiness masking her fears, Delaney kind of reminded him of Aelin.  He glanced sideways at her, at the bloom her blush had left on her face, at the wariness that remained in her hazel eyes despite her joking manner.  Shit.

*****

Shit.  Trust Raedan to blurt that out in front of the girls and Aedion.  Poor Aedion, he looked like his foot was caught in a trap though he was obviously trying to ignore it.  The rest of the meal passed in a blur of talk about training and joking with the girls.  Maida had forgotten all about it once she dug into the stewed cinnamon apples Aedion brought her, but Avis kept glancing between them, hope shining in her round face.

After the meal they split up, Delaney walking the girls back to the hut, Aedion heading to the stables, Raedan to the barracks.  “So are you?” Avis asked the second they were out of earshot.  

“Am I what?” Delaney hedged.

“His lover.”

She sighed.  “No, honey.  I’m not.”

“But why not?” Maida chimed in.  “He’s nice.  And he’s strong.  And he’s handsome.”

Delaney couldn’t help but laugh at that.  “Yes, he’s all of those.”

“So why don’t you like him?”

“I do like him,” she replied, “I just don’t love him.  I can’t.”  Two young brows furrowed in confusion and she sighed again.  “I don’t know how to explain it.”

The girls were silent for the rest of the walk back to the empty hut.  Their mother was nowhere to be found, and Delaney didn’t want to know where she was.  As she supervised the washing of faces and cleaning of teeth, she could see Avis turning it all over in her head.  Finally, after tucking them in, Avis whispered, “I wish you could.”

Delaney smiled a little sadly as she kissed Avis’ temple.  “Me too, honey.  Me too.”

*****

Aedion walked to the stables in a bit of a daze, his mind a swirl of emotions.  He grabbed some brushes and settled in to groom Sparrow, the giant gray mare with the ironic name he had been assigned for training.  She pinned her ears as he entered her stall, but when she realized he was going to let her eat she ignored him.  The rhythm of currying the loose hair off of her was soothing, and his head began to clear for the first time all day.

Officer training.  He was on the list for officer training.  If only he could actually be made an officer, perhaps be given a force of his own…  There would be no better way to seed discord than within the King’s vast army itself.  But it would have to be done carefully.  He would have to fight and kill for the King before he could hope to advance, would have to come up with a way of hiding his true intentions while not turning any rebels he found against him.  Was it even possible, he wondered, to win the trust of the people who mattered while keeping up appearances by slaughtering for the enemy?

He was still mulling that over when Delaney entered the stable.  A twinge of guilt shot through him.  She headed over and leaned against the stall door watching him in silence.  He nodded a greeting and bent over to inspect Sparrow’s shoes and clean her feet.  “I told them,” she said after looking around that nobody was near.  He set the foot down and straightened to meet her eye over the horse’s broad back.  “I told them there was nothing like that between us.”  Her eyes were clear and free of any strong emotion.

“How did they take it?” he asked, unsure how to respond.

Her lips quirked up in a crooked half-smile.  “Avis is disappointed.  She thinks you’re handsome.”

“Well, obviously,” he said, gesturing to himself.  She grinned, and he went on.  “Are you…okay with this?”

“Yeah.  You’re really not my type.”  

Relief warred with indignation at her response, and he had to laugh internally at his own inconsistency.  “Oh?  Why not?”

Delaney took a deep breath, as if she was about to dive into dark unknown water.  “Well, you’re almost pretty enough, but I’m pretty sure you have a cock and that disqualifies you.”

Oh.  OH.  Well, that he understood, though he was not exactly particular about such things.  She was looking at him worriedly, waiting for his reaction.  “I can prove that fact if you want to erase all doubt,” he said without thinking, and was rewarded for his carelessness by a gut-busting belt of laughter.

“No need, unless you’ve been stuffing socks down your pants at all hours of the day,” she replied tartly.  He flushed at that and picked up a dandy brush and set to work on Sparrow’s mane.  “Are you disappointed?” she asked more gently.  

Turning to her, he shook his head.  “No, you’re not really my type either.”

“What’s you’re type, then?”

He shrugged, not thinking “anyone but you” was an acceptable answer.  “Um, I don’t really know. Just not people who remind me of my cousin.”  

It was Delaney’s turn to be startled.  “I remind you of your cousin?”  He nodded, turning back to the horse to hide the pricking in his eyes that started whenever he thought of Aelin.  When he  turned back she was looking at him speculatively.  “Have you ever?”

He knew what she meant.  “No.  You?”

She shook her head and he resumed his brushing.  “You could, you know.  Pretty much anyone here would be happy to help you past that particular milestone.”  His brain rebelled against that, though his cock thought it was a fantastic idea.  Traitor.  Damn thing had a worse hair trigger than his crossbow.  He kept his hips facing the horse while trying to think about dysentery, the bloated carcass of a deer he had once found in the woods, that time he had thrown a rotten egg at Ren and Ren had tackled him and rubbed it in his hair in retaliation.  None of it worked until Delaney added with a cynical snort, “Actually if you have some silver on you my mother would probably take care of it any time.”      

Aedion shuddered at the thought.  She was the same age as Evalin had been, and plus the whole concept of fucking Delaney’s mother felt like incest.  He patted Sparrow, who just shoved her face deeper into her hay, and put away the brushes.  They headed out into the dark camp; it was a cloudy night and the only light came from the barracks and the huts.  As soon as they were away from the stables, Delaney asked casually, “So, do I look like her?”

It took Aedion a moment to think of who she meant.  “My cousin?”  He laughed a little.  “Gods no.”

“But you said -”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean in looks.  Aelin looked like me, just tinier.  Gods, she was so small…”  Suddenly he wanted to talk about her.  It was like now, two years after her death she was demanding he remember every detail.  He held his huge hands out in front of him, staring at the palms as they walked.  “I came over when I was five, and she had just been born.  I remember when they let me hold her for the first time.  She was so fragile, I couldn’t believe they’d trust me not to break her.  And she just gave this huge yawn, and blinked at me, and I…”  His voice broke a little then, but he wasn’t ashamed.  “I was in love.”

“I know what you mean.”  Delaney’s voice was thick.  “I don’t really remember when Raedan was a baby, I was too young, but with Avis, there was just so much trust.  Nobody trusted me.  I don’t blame them, I was a wild little fool who climbed all the trees and stole the jam and once let the horses out into the garden, but Avis didn’t know about any of that.  She just believed I’d keep her safe.  So I did,” she finished simply.

Aedion shifted course towards the small herb garden that backed the kitchens and sat down on the low retaining wall, Delaney settling next to him.  “She was wild too.  I spent half my life chasing after her trying to keep her from destroying stuff, and the other half knocking around kids who made fun of her.” He laughed a little.  “Well, of us.  Everyone said I was too attached to her.”  He was quiet for a long moment, until Delaney shifted so she was pressing her arm against his.  

“How did she die?” she asked, and though her voice was little more than a whisper it felt like a scream.

“You don’t know the story?”  She shook her head.  “I would have thought everyone knew how Adarlan came to take over Terrasen.”

She shrugged, the tension in her body belying the casual gesture.“All I was ever told was that the king of Terrasen and his heir were assassinated, and that Adarlan was going to try to stabilize the continent by taking over.  Then the lords organized an army against us so we had to fight.  But what does your cousin have to do with it?”  When he didn’t respond, she prompted, “I mean, I know you’re a prince of Terrasen, so I’m guessing she was a princess?”

“Gods,” he said under his breath.  He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would somehow make it easier to talk about it.  “I’m not actually a prince of Terrasen,” he said.  “I’m a prince of Wendlyn, that’s where I was born.  My mother was Evalin Ashryver’s cousin.  Evalin married Rhoe Galathynius, who was heir to the crown of Terrasen, and Aelin was their daughter.”  He tapped a finger against the retaining wall, trying to figure out how much to tell this daughter of Adarlan.  “Two years ago today, the King of Adarlan and Prince Dorian came to visit.  Now, Aelin had fire magic, and she didn’t always have great control.”  Opening his eyes, he glanced over at Delaney, who was staring off into the dark, listening tightly.  “She had an…episode, and they thought that taking her to their country house would be safest.  Everyone was kind of afraid of her, her gift was so strong.”  He paused again, almost seeing that bright flame flickering before him.

“But you weren’t.”  It wasn’t a question.

“No.  I wasn’t.  But they didn’t let me go with them, just Rhoe and Evalin and Aelin went, with Evalin’s lady-in-waiting and a few other household staff.   That night, King Orlon was assassinated in his bed in Orynth, and at the same time, miles away, so were Rhoe and Evalin.”

“And Aelin?”

“She was the one who found them,” and at the thought of his fierce Fireheart finding her dead parents his voice broke.  “She found them in their bed with their throats cut.  One of the servants rode to Orynth in a panic, and they left Lady Marion and Aelin behind.  I don’t know if they thought they were safer there because they hadn’t been touched, or what.  Meanwhile, the King of Adarlan ordered me to be locked up in the tower.  For my safety, supposedly.”  He snorted, but there was no humor in the sound.  “The whole castle was in confusion, and nobody thought to ride out for Aelin.  By the time they did, they found Marion beheaded in the kitchen and Aelin was gone.”

Delaney was staring at him now, hand over her mouth and tears coursing down her cheeks.  “Where did she go?” she whispered, as if she were afraid to know the answer.  

“They followed her tracks down to the river.  There were hoof prints, too, so we think she was pursued.  Or herded, more like.  The bridge had been cut, and the tracks ran right to where it should have been, then disappeared.  It was freezing water, and the river runs fast, and she was never a strong swimmer…”  He put his head in his hands, unable to see anything but her tiny body and golden head being swept under the current.  Delaney slipped her arm through his, and wrapped that arm around her and pulled her in close enough to rest his cheek on her hair.  She stiffened, then relaxed into the hold.

“What happened to you?” she asked after a while.

“I stayed locked in the tower for over a month, until after magic disappeared.  Then some of Rhoe’s men broke me out and I joined the lords.  After I was captured in that last battle Terrasen surrendered and here I am.”  The first frogs of spring were beginning to call in the small pond beyond the fort wall.  Delaney shifted a little and Aedion released her, then stood and held out his hand to help her up.  She took it and once she was on her feet she studied him for a moment.

“And why are you still here?”

He had been asking himself that question all day, but he knew he couldn’t tell Delaney the answer he had come to, so he settled for a different truth. “Because they haven’t killed me yet.  Because I have nowhere else to go.”

*****

Delaney didn’t want to admit how much Aedion’s story had shaken her.  As she lay in her loft bed with her sisters, she thought of the lies she had been fed - that the Terrasen royal family had been assassinated by a foreign force; that Adarlan was just trying to keep the continent intact by taking over the country.  It was clear from his dry tone when he mentioned the King of Adarlan that he didn’t believe his presence there was a coincidence, though it would be treason to suggest otherwise.

Most of all, she pictured Avis or Maida finding their mother dead, then running for their lives only to drown in an icy river.  She thought of Raedan being locked in a tower while he learned of the death of one of his sisters.  Would he have raged as no doubt Aedion had done?  Would he have even lived and remained sane through all that loss?  And in the end, would he betray his country for the sake of his own survival?  

Long into the night, she watched the girls’ steady breathing.  Sometimes she reached out and touched their hair to reassure herself of their existence, thinking of Aedion clinging to her so tightly while he told his story, as if she were the one he was keeping from the water.  

#tog #throne of glass #aedion ashryver #aedion #prequel #heir of fire

[we-work-hard]

Green: Part One

Pairing: Early 20s AJ Styles x 45 year old Shane McMahon (he hasn’t come back to WWE in this fic)

Summary: Shane keeps being drawn back to visiting the NXT Performance Center by one of the wrestlers who catches his eye...

Notes: This is a prequel to Room 117 (which is here and here, if you want to give it a try), trying to flesh out how AJ and Shane got into that room together. I looked into how the PC works, a little, but forgive me for what I’ve got wrong. Twink AJ is brought to you mainly by this vid of him with Vince Russo in early TNA, and this screenshot of his ass at CWF. Also, MY NEVER-ENDING THIRST FOR HIS YOUNG BODY

Warnings: Age difference, mention of religion, adultery, typos probably

Tagging: Peeps who were nice about Room 117 or other fics I’ve tried (I might have tagged completely wrong, and some peeps who’ve left, or changed their name, or some NetBots too, IDEK XD) – thank you for being kind to this strange one who’s still feeling this place out (as ever, if you ain’t into this malarkey/slash in general, please do ignore it – I’ll still love you)  @llowkeys @omegaweaponx @scriptor @cruxcantare  @your-darkdiva @osanabria2377 @stylessection @cookiemonster2017 @princessgailr-blog @castielscamander @secretagentfangirl @artemisapalla316 @loveambrylayn @the-geekgoddes @tvrnbvckle @kingslayers-angel @unabashedwwesmut @toosweetme @immalittledinosaur01 @tyler0graves @wrestlingbabe @wweconfidential @aintnopartymd @secretagentfangirl @blondekel77 @missmcmahon @wycliffegordon @imlivinthebilife @xepa123 @idle-vanity @alexahood21 @mylittlepartofthegalaxy

Green

The first time Shane sees him, he’s sitting back at the end of the locker room and strapping his legs up, laughing with the guys around him. Shane’s surprised by how young he is compared to the other wrestlers trying out this week. Everyone else has long hair, or beards, tattoos, and that grumpy arrogance that seeps in after working the smaller shows for a few years. But this one’s more like a high school jock, or a frat boy; all-American, with blue eyes and lightly-tanned skin, a big smile.

“So here they are – what do you think, Shane? See any that might make it?” Matt asks jovially, bringing him further into the room to see the boys they have in to train, trying to get a contract at the Performance Center. The chatter dies down as the men start to notice who’s walked in with the head trainer – a McMahon, no less. Shane doesn’t really want the attention or the sucking up that will follow, so nods at the guys confident enough to look up at him while trying to keep his eyes off that kid in the back that looks so out of place here. He hasn’t noticed him, busy laughing at something the guy next to him has said, throwing a rolled-up sports sock at his head.

“Still got a good eye, I see,” Matt says quietly. “That one’s up from Gainesville. Worked a bunch of Indy shows, and some little Podunk Christian promotion in Texas. Green, but solid. We’re expecting good things from him.”

“How old is he?” Shane notes his snubbed nose and spiky brown hair, the gold cross hanging from his neck. He’s young, but his white and black gear looks old and rough around the edges, like he can’t afford new. His smile is slightly crooked.

“Old enough to be here. Come on, I’ll show you where they train now.”

Just before Shane turns around, the boy looks up and catches his eye, seeming a little startled to see him there. He straightens his mouth out, sits up, and gives a firm nod from across the room. It’s respectful, like how a military kid would do it. Shane smiles and nods back before he goes, raising his eyebrows in curiosity. The boy quirks his mouth in response, then looks back down to adjust his shin-pads, taking a deep breath.

Shane suddenly hopes to himself that the young one from Gainesville will do well this week.

***

The second time Shane sees the kid, he’s standing with his back to him in one of the training rings the next day, getting ready for drills with the other potential recruits. He’s kicking his legs out, warming them up while talking to the guy next to him, suddenly crouching to a squat and pulling himself back up to jump from one foot to the other. He stands out even more among the more grizzled wrestlers now they’re in the ring together.

Shane takes a seat to watch them train, keeping inconspicuous. Even though he hasn’t worked in this company for years, people will always know who he is – he can’t escape that. The good thing about that – the staff here will always let Shane in, even though he’s got nothing much to do with the company anymore. He’s down here in Orlando for his own business interests this week, not to get back into his father’s. He’s been telling himself that all morning. Yet here he is, in front of a wrestling ring again. He doesn’t really know why.

“Alright guys! Let’s get this thing rolling, okay? Sal, come over here a second.”

The trainer takes one of them over to a corner to show him how to throw himself back into the turnbuckle. Shane lets his eyes go where they want.

The young one’s showing an older guy how he takes a punch, getting him to feint a throw, then slapping him on his side to get the cracking sound as he swings. Shane listens hard to catch his voice amongst all the noises in the training room, hearing a thick Southern twang on “I c’n do that all day”. Shane didn’t expect such a thick accent to come out of him, and smiles to himself. From over here, he can pick up on the fact the older guy – dyed black hair in a pony tail, tattooed along his arms – is slightly irked at the advice coming from someone with less experience. The older one offers to show the boy how he does it, slowly leading him into taking an uppercut to the chin, and giving him a stiff cuff to the top of his head to get the sound. The boy doesn’t flinch in his arms at the hit, but just says “Oh, okay, uh huh – wanna see how I do it for a super-kick?”

Shane’s charmed by his gentle pushing back, watching him feign being kicked and lifting his leg up smoothly to slap it while the other wrestler looks at him wryly. He ends up watching their drills for an hour or so, seeing the young man throw himself off of the turnbuckle and whip off of the ropes over and over again – faster than the others and more openly happy to be there. His body is full of energy, well-muscled but not easily tired – Shane can see the strength in it, how he holds himself. He has full control of every limb, every movement clean and quick. But he’s short compared to the others. That’s not going to help him here.

“AJ! Faster, faster – I know you’re only giving me half of what you’ve got! Anthony, I’m sick of your complacency!” 

The guys all laugh at the trainer’s ribbing as they take turns to run, and now Shane knows his name – AJ. And as he gets up to sneak back out, AJ’s eyes catch his movement and he pauses to watch him go. Shane stops to look back at him, expectantly. This time, AJ gives a big grin straight away, still kicking his legs. Shane smiles right back on reflex, as a bigger guy (they’re all bigger guys) snakes his arm around AJ’s neck and pretends to throttle him. He leaves them to it; telling himself to get back to what he came to Orlando for, not waste more time here. This isn’t his world anymore. He can’t let it draw him back in.

***

But the next day, he finds himself returning to the PC after a business meeting runs short – deciding he’ll catch up with Matt again and bend his ear over lunch. And that’s when he gets his third look at the boy – AJ sitting at a table a few across from him with a group, wolfing down a big plate of food and looking up occasionally to add something to the conversation and cackle.

Matt catches him looking.

“How’s he doing?” Shane nods over to the group.

“The Jones boy? Doing great, getting on well with everyone. Eager to learn. I think a few of the more world-weary guys are a little irritated by him, though.”

“Yeah, I noticed a bit of that yesterday,” Shane says, turning his fork to cut at his food.  

“Oh, you snuck yourself in again, huh?” Matt smirks, wiping his face with a napkin and settling back in his chair to look at Shane. “Feeling the old itch? We could use you here, you know.”

“I’m sure Hunter would be happy with me encroaching on his turf – that’s a great idea, Matt.” He looks down and runs his fork across his plate, thinking about why he’s here. “No, I’m just... it’s interesting to see guys at the start of their careers. I don’t know, maybe I miss it a little. Hanging out with people backstage, working on the matches. It’s been a long time.”

“Never too late to come back.”

“Hmm.”  

“I better get back to it – you good here? Fancy coming back to look at some of the footage from today?”

“Nah, I’ll just sit here a while and then head out – you go.”

“I’ll see you back here tomorrow?” Matt says, stroking his beard and smirking.

Shane laughs. “Uh, maybe.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you here tomorrow,” Matt says with a knowing grin, pushing himself back from the table and taking his tray with him.

Shane looks up again and catches AJ watching him this time, his face looking softly curious across the room. When he’s caught, he gives a small smile, quickly checks around the room and looks back to poke his tongue out. Shane lets out a bark of laughter and returns AJ’s smile, before poking his tongue out back at him. AJ crosses his eyes, but Shane can’t do that, so he shakes his head in fake-reproach, crossing his arms. AJ sticks his bottom lip out in a parody of apology, and then Shane apes it, leaning forward over his table. AJ shakes his head and quietly sniggers. They both look away for a second, but their eyes come back together somehow.  

And that’s when Shane realises he’s enjoying this way too much, and the reason he keeps coming back to the Performance Center. And he’s terrified.  

***

Shane keeps away after that. Four days. Four days of thinking about that boy, trying not to think about that boy. Wondering why this is happening now when he’s had 45 years of being heterosexual, never having a thought about other men. Happy with his wife, with his kids. His eye always straying to women when he looks, never men. And certainly not a man half his age. Not a man; a boy, he has to remind himself.  

But he thinks about that boy at the Performance Center every night when he’s alone with this thoughts in the dark, no distractions. And he has to go back.

***

Shane tries to keep his voice calm and casually curious, not freaked when he rushes into the monitor room to find Matt. “Where’s the Jones kid, I haven’t seen him with the others – is he hurt, out sick today?”

Matt turns around in his chair where he’s sitting in front of the bank of screens, feeding in a live stream from the rings.

“Ah, yeah, Shane; that sucks. He didn’t make the cut – heading home.”

What? Shane tries to calm himself down and not look like he’s panicking. “What the hell happened, he was the best of the bunch.”

“Not on promo, he wasn’t – higher-ups didn’t like him. Pump your breaks, come and take a look at this a second, I’ll show you.”

Shane takes deep breaths and tries to get control of himself while Matt leans forward to tap at the keyboard, pulling up a series of videos. He presses play on ‘Allen Neal Jones – WrestleMania Promo’.

“This is the chance of a lifetime, to finally have the chance to make it on the biggest stage in sports entertainment...”

Shane leans forward to watch, heart sinking. On screen, AJ is nervous, wooden and folksy – not the sweet and cocky mix Shane’s seen in the flesh this week. Shane’s frustrated with how this has turned out – this can be worked on if given a chance, he knows it can. This can’t be right, this isn’t right.

“Okay, so,” Shane swallows, still struggling to sound normal and unaffected, “Haven’t we given guys a chance before without a good promo? All the guys pushed up to the main roster who can’t string a fucking sentence together? His in-ring work outshone anyone here in this group, Hunter couldn’t see that?”

“Really got a soft spot for this kid, huh?” Matt says with a twinkle in his eye. “Yeah, I did too. He’s a good boy – I could see that. But he’s not right for us.”

Shane starts shaking his head, and Matt puts a hand up to stop him. “Shane. I feel bad for him – he’s got talent. But where’s the charisma, where’s the promo? What kind of gimmick can we put on him? He’s cute, but he’s small. Will the girls like him? Will the guys? I don’t know. Not for us, Shane – that,” he pauses to point at AJ on the screen, “is not WWE. And you know it.”

“Okay, alright,” Shane sighs, nodding. “I just think the idea of what a ‘Superstar’ is is wrong sometimes, that’s all. Where is he now, you sent him home already; he’s gone?”

“Ah, yeah... there’s an issue with that,” Shane raises his eyebrows, in hope... “His plane home got cancelled. Got another arranged for first thing tomorrow. I offered to book him a hotel room for the night, but he said he’ll crash with one of the other guys from the locker room, won’t take the extra hand out from us.”

“Why would he trust you with that? Why would he trust this place at all? You just shot his dream out of the sky, I bet...” Shane says, wondering if he can find him somehow. 

“See, now you’re just making me feel bad.”

“Sorry, Matt – I just can’t fucking believe this company sometimes.”

“Boy’s probably still in the locker room packing up – you might be able to catch him, offer your condolences... a bounce on your knee, or a tickle under the chin.”

Shane ignores Matt’s attempt to lighten the situation up, his pulse starting to race at the thought he could still catch AJ. Though he can’t think what he’ll do if he does.

“I’m sure he doesn’t want to be any more upset by this place than he already has been – catch you later, Matt.”

“See ya. Oh, Shane?”

Shane stops at the door, trying not to curse.

“Don’t let him cut one of those hellacious promos on you if you find him...”

“You’re an asshole, Matt.” Shane says with a tight smile, trying not to run out of the room.

***

The locker room – will he still be there? Does it really matter if he isn’t? What’s Shane planning to do – offer him a hug? Set up a rival wrestling federation just for him? He doesn’t know, he just... needs to see the boy again, tell him... tell him to keep going, that it’ll work out.  

But the locker,room, when he gets there, has no AJ in it. Other guys are around, nodding their hellos to him before turning back to each other to talk. But no AJ sitting at the end of the room. His locker is empty and hanging open – no spare socks to throw, no beat-up ring gear, no crucifix; no sign he’d ever been here. Shane finds himself reaching down to touch the bench, thinking about what the hell he’d have said if he’d found him.

I couldn’t stop looking at you this week. I think you have a good heart. I’m a married man with kids, but I loved watching you, and I loved you watching me, too – I don’t know why. Will you stay, catch my eye some more, smile at me?

“That kid’s outside.”

Shane turns around, jumping at being caught all morose in front of the empty locker.

“Uh, what?”

One of the others trying out – the tall guy with the black ponytail  – knows where AJ is.

“The kid – AJ? He’s outside. Was asking if he could crash with any of us tonight. But we don’t have room. Not even for someone that small.” The guy he’s standing with lets out a mean laugh, undoing his wrist tape.

He gives Shane a sharp look. “You asking him to stay?”

“Maybe. He was good – I noticed him teaching you some things...”

The guy’s face turns sour, bitter. He puffs himself up.  

“Doubt there’s much he can teach me – unless being an irritant is something you can teach now. He’s out there waiting for his little friends to come back with food so he can wrangle his way into their room – no doubt he’ll manage to steal one of their beds for the night, bat his little fool eyelashes at ‘em.” He seems to remember who he’s talking to when Shane narrows his eyes.

“He’s outside if you want to catch him, Mr Mahon.”

“Right. Good. Best of luck here, boys – I hope you do well.”

“Thank you, Sir.” They both grumble, turning back to their lockers.

Shane rushes out into the corridor and heads to the front of the building, hoping he’ll catch AJ, just to talk, that’s all. Especially if those idiots in there have upset him. Upset him? AJ can look after himself, Shane’s brain tells him. But his heart tells him AJ is alone, and probably heartbroken right now. And too proud to really ask for the help he needs. He needs more than a room.

And Shane is not the appropriate person to give him that... but he’s still jogging over to the boy he finds sitting on a bench outside, his bag by his feet.

“AJ,” he says, out of breath. He clears his throat and tries again. “AJ – you okay?”

AJ flinches out of his thoughts and looks up, blinking in surprise.

“Holy frick, it’s you... You know my name?”

Shane lets out a laugh in relief at finding him in time, and at the language. He feels light-headed to finally be talking to him. 

“Of course I know your name, Allen Neal Jones – you know mine?”

#It's a start at least right #fanfic #imagine #slash #Twink AJ #AJ Styles #Shane McMahon #McStyles #prequel

[notbecauseofvictories]

Rey/Finn/Poe, road trip au.

this was a mistake, poe thinks, with rey’s long legs thrown across his lap. he’s following the line of her calves with his palms and she’s got her head half out the window, the wind playing with loose strands of her hair. (her skin is warm, prickly where she hasn’t shaved her legs in a few weeks, and even with the seatbelt digging into his chest poe is afraid his heart is going to crack his ribs open.)

she wrinkles her nose and says something in the direction of the driver’s seat; probably something about finn’s driving, which—poe just taught him brakes from gas (we couldn’t run away if we didn’t know how to run, finn had explained with a shrug) and he tends to drive like he’s someone’s 80 year old grandmother.

but finn only laughs, the sun glinting off his shades, his teeth. he has his arm draped out the window, and poe can see the way his muscles shift in his shoulders every time he moves. he says something too, which would probably be funny if poe could hear either of them over the radio, the blood pounding in his ears. (this was a mistake.)

the sun is hot, but they have all the windows open and the wind is cool. poe lets his head fall back against the seat and shuts his eyes. under his hand, the muscles of rey’s calf twitch, and then lay still.

.

some free advice: when your young, extremely attractive coworkers who only have eyes for one another (in blissful ignorance of the fact that you may be in love with them, whatever) invite you on a cross-country road trip to their surrogate father’s funeral—

say no.

.

���hey,” finn says. they’re sitting at the rest stop’s only picnic table, trying not to touch the unfortunately sticky patches. poe keeps accidentally kicking the heavy chain that keeps it anchored to the ground.

“yeah?” poe says absently. 

“thanks for coming, man,” finn says, and he’s doing that thing again, the sincere thing, where his eyes are wide and shining, and he’s so serious and earnest. people keep saying finn must have learned it from poe, but poe can’t remember the last time he was like that about anything. (eighteen, maybe, when he found out the community college had a library, and spent the summer devouring every book in their measly political philosophy section.

not many airmen could quote rawls, but given where it’d taken him, that was probably for the best.)

“don’t mention it,” poe says. “I’m here for you. and rey,” he adds, when she appears from the rest stop, and crosses the sad patch of browning grass to sit beside finn at the table.

she makes a face when she plants her elbow in a sticky patch, and it’s funny, it is—poe has seen her happily covered in motor oil and grass, sweat, but she wrinkles her nose, huffs. “what about me?” she asks, scraping at her elbow with a fingernail.

finn raises his eyebrows at poe, and he feels himself go hot. “no, I was just—telling finn that. well, I’m here for you. both of you.”

her expression softens into something almost tender, and poe lamely offers his half-empty water bottle to wash off her elbow. 

somehow, this ends up with rey straddling the bench beside him, close enough that he would breathe in her breath, if he could remember how to breathe just now. he gets water on his jeans, and her shirt, and he doesn’t miss the corner of her mouth, twitching at how clumsy he’s suddenly become. “there,” he says, using his thumb to wipe the last of it from the flat of her elbow. “all good.”

“thanks,” rey says, and this close he can see the old scar at her jaw where she wasn’t quick enough to dodge whatever plutt hurled at her head. (he thinks; she’s always oblique when it comes to her past, prickly and waiting to take offense at the first sign of pity.) it’s silvery-faint, but poe can’t look away.

poe walks back to the car two steps behind her. finn’s shoulder brushes his, and they’re both smiling, for no reason.

.

“move over,” finn mutters, and poe’s still mostly asleep—he grunts when finn elbows into the tacky motel bed beside him, pressing himself flush against poe’s back. he’s warm, it feels nice.

“rey keeps kicking me,” finn says. his breath on the nape of poe’s neck. he’s nosing at the collar of poe’s shirt, and poe goes practically boneless against him (is there a reason he shouldn’t? he can’t remember.)

“’k,” poe mumbles. “g’ sleep n’w.”

“okay,” finn says.

poe wakes up in the morning cold, finn having stolen every blanket on the bed and wrapped them around his waist. but he’s got a hand fisted into the back of poe’s shirt, and poe lays there for a while, feeling the ridge of finn’s knuckles against his back.

.

they’re eating at some tacky hole-in-the-wall bar google maps recommended when rey says, “han would have loved this place.”

finn freezes with a fry halfway to his mouth, and it’s up to poe to say, casually, “oh, yeah?”

rey is pushing the remains of whatever she had—something with potatoes, poe wasn’t paying attention—around her plate, frowning. “yeah,” she says. “he knew every crappy bar and diner for a hundred miles in every direction. probably knew their owners too. he had this—” she laughs a little, though there isn’t much humor in the sound. “her name was maz, I always thought she was his aunt, when actually she bought weed from him back before it was legalized. but that was han, he was always—everyone was family.”

finn puts down the fry and wipes his fingers on his shirt. lays his hand, palm up, on the plastic surface of the table. rey threads their fingers together, so tightly that poe can see her knuckles go white.

poe escapes, mumbling something about the jukebox, about needing the bathroom, another drink. (it doesn’t actually matter, he just has to put some space between him and this, or he’ll belong to it, he’ll be part of it, and he’s not. he has to remember he’s not. this is rey and finn and rey&finn and their grief and their lives, he doesn’t have a right to any of it.

he can’t believe he’s thinking about kissing them right now.)

it costs him a dollar twenty five to get shania twain on the jukebox, but it’s worth it to hear rey humming along when he gets back to the table. they’re still holding hands, but finn doesn’t move over when poe slides back into the booth. his shoulder is warm, and pressed all along poe’s side, and poe reminds himself to breathe, just breathe.

.

the next time finn crawls into bed with poe, he doesn’t offer any explanation. (neither does rey, when she joins them.)

.

honestly. just—say no. when they ask, for your own sanity, say no.

.

poe makes an extremely undignified noise when senator leia organa, retired four star general and decorated hero of the battle of endor, is standing outside the funeral home. “what,” he says, grabbing hold of finn’s arm and practically shaking him til his fillings rattle.

“han was her husband. ex-husband? I don’t know if they ever actually got divorced,” rey explains, frowning. “she’s overseeing the funeral.”

“what,” poe repeats, even as finn patiently unclips poe’s seatbelt for him and all but pushes him out of the car. poe stumbles inelegantly to his feet, and holy shit leia organa is looking at him.

“this is our friend,” rey says, after she and senator leia organa exchange a long, wordless embrace. (finn just smiles, blinking hard when organa rests a hand on his shoulder. “his name is poe.”

“dameron,” poe says dazedly, reaching out and shaking senator leia organa’s hand by instinct.

“ah,” the senator says. “the hotshot ex-pilot himself. I’ve heard so much about you.”

poe nods and says something gracious, probably, and pretends like he doesn’t want to turn to finn and demand to know what they’ve been telling senator leia organa about him.

the meeting with the funeral director is solemn, gentle; poe mostly busies himself making sure everyone always has enough coffee in their cup, a couple cookies within reach. the senator is very cool and sure and calm, dry-eyed, even if she does hold rey’s hand so tightly that rey has to switch as they start talking about caskets.

(”closed casket,” the senator says, very firmly. “I don’t—I don’t want anyone to remember him like this.”)

finn spends the whole meeting silent, his lips pressed together in a thin line, hands fisted to keep them from shaking. “hey,” poe says, nudging him with his shoulder. “c’mon, let’s go for a walk.”

finn looks a little surprised—his eyes cut to rey, who doesn’t look away from the funeral director’s face, but she does nod, just slightly. so they go, and wander around the edge of the parking lot, admire the sad stand of trees and the worn out sign. poe makes a comment about how crappy rey’s beat up ford falcon looks beside senator organa’s gleaming state car—

“it was his,” finn says, very quietly, and poe’s voice dies in his throat. “he loved that stupid car, and her. and he used to—he used to call me ‘big deal’, because the first time we met I was trying to impress rey, and made out like I was such a big deal.”

finn isn’t looking at the cars, he isn’t looking at anything; just staring sightlessly into the air, and trembling.

poe doesn’t think, just steps forward and catches him before he hits the ground.

they’re still there, kneeling in the damp grass, when the senator and rey emerge from the funeral home. finn’s mostly stopped crying (he’s shuddering, gulping at the air and clinging to poe like he’s the only solid thing left in the world) but poe’s still cradling him against his chest, rubbing his back and murmuring nonsense, soothing things.

poe should be embarrassed, he realizes too late. about his closeness and his presumption and—the fact he isn’t embarrassed. but no one else seems to be, and when rey bends down and presses a kiss to poe’s head it feels good, it feels right.

“dinner, I think,” the senator says, and poe, finn, and rey all pile back into the falcon silently. they follow her car out of the parking lot, and down the road, and away.

.

poe doesn’t remember much of the wake, except that rey cried, and poe cried because he loved her and he was sorry, and finn got spectacularly drunk and cried too, holding onto poe’s arm and saying, “thank you for coming. thank you. you came, I’m so glad.”

they fall asleep in a pile on the sofa, poe knows, because that’s where he woke up, rey’s knee digging into his gut and finn heavy on his knees. it takes careful maneuvering and a good few minutes to extract himself, and even then he has to limp to the bathroom—he’s not sure how both of his feet fell asleep, but they did.

he’s just wiping his hands on his pants when he realizes there’s a light on in the kitchen.

“senator?” he asks, stepping into the space. leia organa is sitting at the table with a fork sticking out of what looks like a pan of kugel. it’s one of the dozen baking dishes spread across the table, all neatly covered in foil or saran wrap. “I didn’t think anyone else was awake.”

“I lost my mother and father when I was nineteen,” she says, and his breath catches. “my unit was in imperial-held territory at the time and I didn’t—I couldn’t attend their funeral, didn’t even have time to mourn them. I’m trying to decide if the food makes it better.”

poe is silent, watching her pick at the noodles. “I can’t eat chuchitos anymore. when mama—” he chokes on the word, even so many years later, “everyone brought chuchitos, because they knew they were my favorite. I had chuchitos every meal for weeks, I got sick off them. so I can’t eat them anymore. even the smell…”

she looks up at him, and smiles, and—poe wonders suddenly if she has any children of her own; not that rey and finn don’t count, but that is a mother’s smile, and he feels steadied, having seen it. 

“get some sleep, dameron,” she says, and he leaves her there, in the lighted kitchen, all alone.

.

they bury han solo on a cool saturday morning, finn gritting his teeth against a hangover and rey ashen, dry-eyed. poe feels like he’s hovering too much, but at some point rey grabs his arm and buries her face in his suit jacket, and finn has his arm wrapped around rey’s waist so that poe can feel finn’s watch digging into his side, and it’s like equilibrium, suddenly. balance.

“are you coming?” finn asks after, and the senator shakes her head.

“no, it’s all right,” she says, and her eyes are wet. “I’m going to stay, have one last argument with him. curse the bastard out for dying—it wouldn’t be right, otherwise.”

they pick their way back over the grass, occasionally stopping to read headstones, without remark. (rey is holding his hand, and finn’s, and poe can’t believe how warm he feels, is.) when they make it back to where they parked, there’s an absurdly tall man with long hair, leaning against the senator’s car. “you’ll get her home?” rey asks, and the man says something that sounds affirmative, though poe can’t interpret what through the haze of accent. rey just looks relieved. “thank you.”

rey kicks off her shoes in the backseat of the falcon and curls into finn’s side, animal-like. he murmurs something, and she laughs, or whatever passes for it—it’s like watching a movie with no sound. poe can’t help glancing at them in the rearview the whole ride back to the senator’s house, but they don’t say anything else, just cling to one another.

the house feels emptier, when they get back.

“I’m going to—take a nap,” poe says, because he can’t think of anything else to do right now that isn’t drinking or smoking, and this really isn’t the time.

“okay,” rey says, and she and finn trail poe upstairs. finn drapes his suit jacket on the chair beside poe’s bed, and rey shimmies out of her pantyhose and before poe can really figure out what’s happening, he’s in bed with both of them, rey curling into his back and finn’s shoulder against his chest.

poe is still desperately trying to make sense of this when finn pokes his thigh. “breathe,” finn says, already sounding sleepy and warm, and fuck that earnest thing, poe doesn’t trust that one bit, it’s clearly a trap to lull him into a false sense of security and affection. 

“it’s okay, you can relax,” finn adds after a long minute. “we’re not going anywhere.”

“oh,” poe says, because what else is he supposed to say. “okay then.” 

at some point, lying stiff as a board between two warm and sleeping bodies, both tucked against your own, is exhausting. poe sleeps.

.

when he wakes up, the sun is lower, slanting through the windows and painting the room a haze of gold. it takes him a minute to realize that rey is propped up on one elbow, tracing the curve of his brow with a fingertip.

she looks like she’s been crying.

“hey,” poe whispers. “good morning.”

“not really,” she says, but she’s smiling now. “but maybe tomorrow. we’ll see.”

#ME: ''send me short prompts!'' ALSO ME: [immediately bangs out 1.5k of modern au which is a genre I normally hate] #writing is genuinely the worst hobby #the warry stars #star wars #Anonymous #asked and answered #long post for ts #tw funeral #tw death #this is a thing I made

[from-the-clouds]

Something to Believe In -Chapter 9: Frigid (A Poe Dameron x OC Fic)

While I will try to post the full story on here, you can find the rest of it on AO3 and FanFiction.net. Leave me a comment or review!

Story Summary: Her whole life, Kyra has felt a call to something greater. She joins The Resistance to flee from a life that wasn’t her own. Content with her low-profile job within the medical corps, General Organa assigns her to work with Black Squadron. When Kyra meets Commander Poe Dameron, he helps her discover what she is capable of. Takes place before/during TFA, slow-burn Poe/OC

Chapter Summary: Kyra’s mission with Poe doesn’t go as much as expected, and they end up sharing a cramped hotel room for the night.

Chapter Word Count: 4,017

Warnings: None

It’s been awhile since I posted anything, but I am still accepting requests for imagines, so drop into my inbox! I finally finished spring semester and I'm going to have a lot more free time soon :) As always, please let me know what you think :)

Although she could have taken the opportunity to sleep on the way to Hoth, Kyra stayed awake, chatting idly with Poe. Something was keeping her up, some vague inclination in the back of her mind that something was going to go wrong. She tried to dismiss it, but it was persistent, and she chalked up the paranoia to exhaustion. Rather than sleeping, she ended up taking extra shifts at the hospital, since a nasty flu was sweeping through member's of The Resistance. So many pilots, mechanics and workers were dehydrated with high fevers, sore throats, and body aches. She'd spent basically all night giving saline IV's and issuing medications to quell the fevers since they were short-staffed. Kyra only prayed she wouldn't catch anything, at least not until she got back from the mission; she hoped her lack of sleep didn't catch up to her.

She didn't know what exactly to expect from Hoth. All she knew was that it was supposed to be snowy and cold and desolate. They'd brought proper apparel for the terrain, so she wasn't too worried. They would be landing near an abandoned Rebel Base, where a few former Alliance fighters had settled after the Galactic Empire fell. Surprisingly enough, Kyra did not know a whole lot about the war that had ended years before she was born. It'd always been a curiosity of hers, but she hadn't read her way to that area of the Resistance's library.

A noise she'd never heard Poe's x-wing make startled her and she immediately straightened up, the feeling of dread intensifying until her head pounded. Placing her thumb and forefinger to her temples, she leaned forward and furrowed her brow, muttering to herself to calm down before speaking up.

"Everything okay?" she asked Poe, who she could hear shifting around in the cockpit behind her, frantically pressing buttons and flipping switches.

For a moment he was silent, preoccupied, which only intensified the throbbing in her head as her stomach twisted. "The engine," he murmured. "It's overheating...but we're almost there. We should be okay," he said, and for the first time, Kyra didn't hear the same confidence in his voice she was used to. Instead, his voice wavered slightly with trepidation.

The headache faded to a faint annoyance, and Kyra tried to occupy her mind by running over General Organa's instructions at the debrief. There were specific people they needed to talk to, and she ran over their names in her head. Unfortunately, Kyra was distracted once more by a whirring noise coming from the ships engine she had never heard before. Poe clicked buttons, trying to control the situation, but to no avail. Kyra didn't want to pry him, assuming he knew what he was doing. Her trying to help would most likely serve only to annoy.

She heard Poe curse under his breath, which concerned her because he usually remained so calm. "I'm going to take us out of light speed and try to land. Hang on," He shouted over the increasing sound of the engine whirring. The familiar lightheadedness and pull she felt coming out of lightspeed seemed to only worsen her headache, the pressure she felt on her chest restricting and overwhelming her.

Then they were flying above Hoth, she could see it's terrain, jagged peaks of mountain poking up through gray storm-clouds, snippets of it's smooth, white surface peaking through the spaces between. From up here, despite their current situation, it looked peaceful. Kyra couldn't help Poe, who was still desperately trying to safely bring them to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Kyra," he yelled over the roaring of the engine, and then she felt her stomach drop as they plummeted to the ground.

There wasn't much of the crash that Kyra remembered. The ground came closer and closer to them until she could begin to make out details; small patches of pine trees, tall drifts of snow. The terrain was like an ocean of fresh, fallen dust. At first, Kyra thought of her father and sister, whom she hadn't spoken to since she joined The Resistance. She had refused to. She thought of her grandmother, and how much she missed her. Despite the years since she had died, the pain had never really subsided, and Kyra longed to know all her secrets she never got to tell.

Surely, Kyra thought as the ground grew closer, this was it. Instead of screaming, she felt peace, calm. An energy passed through her, time slowed down, she could hear Poe's racing heart and the steady beat of her own, she closed her eyes, but still could see the ground closing in.

And then the impact came, and the peace disappeared.

For some reason, Kyra didn't know whether she had blacked out or whether she'd been conscious all along, but her first action was to get out of the cockpit. She flexed her fingers and toes, then slowly worked her way up her arms and legs, assessing each body part before trying to move. The pressure in her head had subsided, and she noticed she was still strapped in to the cockpit. The roof was peeled back, and the wind kicked up tornadoes of snow that clouded her vision. Poe wasn't there. She felt her heart clench in panic.

"Poe?" she said his name softly, before shouting. "POE!"

Black One had landed in a snow bank, which must have cushioned their fall. Half the ship was submerged in the fluffy cover, only the cockpit rose above the ground. Kyra exited the ship, unbuckling her helmet and chucking it to the ground unceremoniously. She was growing more panicked as Poe was nowhere to be found, when suddenly, an orange flight suit directly below caught her eye.

Lying on his back against the nose of the ship was Poe. No visible injuries marked him, but he wasn't moving, and Kyra made her way through the deep snow to him.

"Kyra," he murmured as she approached, his eyes lighting up. He straightened up slightly.

"Are you alright?" Kyra asked, and Poe nodded. "Are you injured?"

"I don't...think so," he mumbled. "I just needed a moment to catch my breath."

Kyra nodded, examining him with her eyes. "Let me check you out, okay?"

Poe frowned, but reluctantly agreed. Kyra leaned forward, pushed his hair out of his eyes to examine his forehead for bumps or cuts. She ran her fingers through his thick, dark curls to feel his skull for any bumps and bruises, her hands then finding his neck to be sure he hadn't broken it. Determined, she refused to look him in the eye while this close to him, as it felt wrong in some way to be so close. His eyes focused in on her. "Where are we?" she asked.

"Hoth," he answered, watching her intently.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" she asked, making a "W" with her digits.

"Three," He answered. Kyra pulled a flashlight from her medical kit and shined it in his eyes, watching his pupils dilate quickly.

"Well, you aren't concussed," she said, but moved on, carefully helping him move his arms, legs, examining them for damage. Kyra felt his eyes on her, so intent, and her face grew warm under his gaze. It made her even more embarrassed, since she'd managed to assess damage to many individuals without feeling so flustered. But Poe was perfectly fine, and as Kyra finished up, seemed to snap out of the uncharacteristic trance he'd been in. Shock, she guessed, but she didn't say anything, because he answered.

"I think I got the wind knocked out of me," he said, and Kyra smirked. "I'm so sorry Kyra, Gods, that was scary. How about you? Are you okay?"

"So far so good," she said. "We both might be a little sore tomorrow, but I'm sure we can handle it."

"I'm so sorry, Kyra I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, Poe. We're okay."

"If I had BB-8 with me maybe he could have payed more attention to the engine, I didn't realize until it was too late."

Although Kyra had somehow managed to avoid it, or ignore it, in her rush to find Poe, it suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. Her body convulsed and her teeth began chattering together. "It's so...so cold." She managed, instinctively pulling her arms around herself in an effort to warm up.

"Coats," Poe agreed suddenly, seemingly agreeing to the sentiment. He climbed back into the x-wing and pulled out the coats, offering her one that she slipped into graciously.

"I need to check the engine," Poe said. "Stay in the cockpit and try to warm up."

"You don't need any help?" she asked.

"I'll only be a moment," he answered, and Kyra nodded, taking his advice and curling up in the cockpit. She reached for her datapad only to find it shattered on the floor of the x-wing. She frowned. All her information was on there, even information pertaining to the mission.

When Poe returned his face was grim. "Just as I suspected."

"What's that?" Kyra frowned as she sensed his frustration.

"The engine's shot. It go too overheated. We need more coolant and coolant feeds if we're going to get her up and running again."

Kyra sat back and watched him as he rifled through the cockpit to find his datapad. When he finally found it and powered it up, he struggled to find a signal for a moment before he could finally get the information he needed. Kyra watched as the sky began to darken, the sun was lowering in the sky and she saw dark clouds rolling in behind them. Kyra shivered, and she wasn't sure if it was a result of the cold or because she still couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something was off.

"We haven't landed too far away from the old base. It'll take us about three hours to get there on foot, which isn't ideal, but it could be worse," Poe interrupted her thoughts. He shook his head and bit his lower lip. "Unfortunately, we don't have a lot of options."

"I'll be okay to walk," Kyra said. "I suspect moving around will be better than sitting here freezing to death."

Poe nodded, and offered her his hand, which she took to help lift herself from the ship. She gathered the few belongings she'd brought with her and placed them in her backpack along with her medical kit and slung it over her shoulder. Poe and Kyra both changed into more casual clothes, as the orange flight suits certainly didn't allow them to be inconspicuous. It only took a few moments for them to gather her things before they were off.

Moving didn't do much to help the cold. It was horribly cold, a bone-deep cold that didn't disappear that nipped at her fingers, toes, and face - any piece of exposed skin was subjected to it's searing touch. Kyra didn't even bother trying to talk to Poe. Opening her mouth only made her colder. As much as she tried to ignore it, she couldn't. The wind certainly didn't help.

The three hour walk to get into town felt like five, and by the time they arrived, night had fallen. A few shops were still open, but none of them could get them the supplies they needed. The settlement was larger than Kyra had expected, but based on the stares and side-eyed glances they got from the residents who were scurrying home in the dark, the town didn't often get visitors.

Poe leaned into her, and murmured in her ear. "I suggest we try to find a place to stay for the night," he suggested. "We can get some food and a good nights sleep. I doubt we'll have much luck trying to ask around this late at night - plus, it looks like there's a storm coming."

He was right. The wind had picked up, howling, spiraling loose snow from the ground.

They found a small inn towards the outskirts of town. Before they entered the lobby, Poe turned to her. "Remember, we aren't with the Resistance. We're just traveling through, okay?"

Kyra nodded, following him inside. She expected a blast of warm air but was disappointed when she felt none in the lobby. Although there was a fireplace in the small lobby, it didn't do much to quell the cold. Kyra shivered.

"Hello," Poe greeted the man behind the counter, who eyed them suspiciously as they approached. "I was wondering if I could get a room for the night?" he asked.

The man frowned, but nodded. "We've only got one room left for the night. You on vacation?"

Poe gave an easy laugh, "I'm afraid not. My wife and I were traveling and our ship broke down a few miles out of town," Poe's hand reached up to settle on Kyra's lower back, and she instinctively leaned into him, playing along, offering the hotel owner a soft smile. Despite the act, the warmth of Poe's body offered a bit of refuge from the cold. "We thought it'd be best to find a place for the night."

The man's features relaxed at Poe's explanation, and he smirked before turning around to grab a datapad and a key. "You're in luck, we've only got one room left for the night. That'll be 100 units," he said, and Poe handed over the money. "The price is cheaper than usual, because our heater's broken. Every room has a fireplace and firewood, so that should help a lot. Your room is on the second floor to the left."

Poe nodded. "Thank you." He took the key, his hand still resting lightly on Kyra's waist, and lead them out of the lobby.

"Your wife?" she teased as they headed upstairs, out of sight of the owner.

Poe smirked slightly "Anything else would have been too suspicious."

"Mhm," Kyra raised her eyebrows slightly.

"Oh stop," he dropped his arm from her waist and swatted playfully at her, rolling his eyes before they finally arrived at the room. Kyra was growing anxious for a nice warm bed and meal, but all her expectations were shattered when she only saw one large bed in the middle of the room, no couches or chairs or anything that could work as a substitute. Her brows knit together in frustration, but she wasn't sure whether or not to voice her concern.

"So much for escaping the cold," Poe huffed, passing her to go to the windows. Kyra heard the wind pick up outside and watched Poe lock them and close the blinds. Kyra chattered her teeth in agreement.

"Let's start a fire," she suggested. Her arms and legs were lagging, the exhaustion from a lack of sleep hitting her. Still, she crossed the room and began stacking some firewood in the fireplace. The few half-burnt pieces that still lay within it she gathered under the fire to use as kindling, and a box of matches with the motel name on it sat on the mantle. She lit the match and placed it under the wood, blowing on it carefully, and within minutes the wood was burning.

"Thank Gods," Kyra sighed in relief, removing the gloves from her hands and placing her aching fingers close to the flames. Poe crouched beside her, mimicking her actions.

"I hope this helps," he murmured, and Kyra watched the flames cast shadows across his profile.

The fire helped, but not enough, especially as the storm picked up outside. Kyra moved away to sit on the bed and give it time to warm the room. However, she couldn't help but let out a frustrated sigh, which caused Poe to turn to her.

"You alright?" he asked, his brows pulling together.

She nodded, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the headboard, closing her eyes. "It's still freezing."

Poe stood from his place in front of the fire and walked towards her, sitting next to Kyra. He hesitated a moment before carefully reaching out, placing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to him. Whereas normally, she might feel uncomfortable, or maybe even flustered, instead she knew he was just trying to keep them both warm. And as much as she hated to admit it, it was working.

Kyra couldn't remember the last time she'd been so close to someone, or even had someone touch her affectionately. Although she knew Poe wasn't been affectionate, it was certainly welcome and friendly, and she appreciated it. Carefully, she rested her head on his shoulder, and his grip tightened.

"I want to apologize again about what happened earlier..." Poe said, staring into the flames. "With the ship."

"What do you mean?" Kyra asked.

"The way we crashed...it was a miracle both of us survived," he mumbled. "I really thought that was the end." Kyra glanced at him, seeing the pensive frustration across his face. He thought it was his fault.

"Oh, Poe..." Kyra murmured, using her free hand to reach around his waist and pull him into a hug. "You did nothing wrong. It was out of your control."

"I thought we were going to die," he said, shaking his head. "I was thinking about my dad...I got in an argument with him the other day and now I'm regretting it. That could have been the last time we talked to each other."

"It's not...we're okay," she soothed him, pausing and biting her lip, unsure of whether to continue. "I haven't talked to my father in years, though. I know how you feel."

"Years...why not?" he asked.

"You know, I never told you why I joined the Resistance." Kyra said, shaking her head. "At least...I never really told you."

Poe turned his head to her, his eyes dark, brooding. But he was intent, listening. Once again, his gaze made Kyra blush so she turned away and continued. "My father was the chief of the village I grew up in. He made the community work, he made the big decisions," she began. "He wanted me to take his place once he grew old." Kyra shook her head. "I always felt this pull to do great things, to be a part of something great. Something inside me would call to me, it felt so strong. But when he saw I wasn't dedicated to the job...he forced me into something that almost ruined my life."

Kyra paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. She didn't want to tell Poe about the marriage. Not yet. It made her feel dirty and wrong, all those years being married to someone she'd never cared about. Now wasn't the time...maybe never.

"My grandmother got sick, and I came home for her funeral. On Dantooine I met a recruitment officer for The Resistance and long story short, he asked me to join. I thought maybe this was my calling. After my grandma died I told him I'd be leaving. He tried to stop me but realized there was no use. And I haven't spoken to him since..."

Poe looked away from her. "And do you think this is your calling?"

"Are you asking me this as my commanding officer?" She cocked an eyebrow, unsure of how to answer his question.

Poe smirked slightly. "No, Kyra. I'm asking this as your friend."

Kyra smiled, feeling a bit of the tension in the air break. "I'm in a better place than I was before..." she trailed off. "But there's still an emptiness...I can't explain it." Quickly, she changed the subject. "Who knows. Some people go their whole lives without finding their purpose. Maybe I'm one of those people."

Poe squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Kyra shook her head. "Anyways, that's enough blabbering about me."

"No, Kyra...I'm glad you felt like you could tell me that," he said softly.

"Well," she smirked. "Don't go thinking your special or anything."

Poe laughed, and the atmosphere lightened a bit. Kyra was thankful. Their previous conversation gave her the chance to ask a question that'd been weighing on her mind. "So...this might not be my place to act...but what is the significance of Lor San Tekka?" she asked. "I mean, why is he so important to The Resistance?"

Poe sighed. "Have you ever heard of Luke Skywalker?" he asked.

Kyra nodded, the name ringing a bell, before she smiled. "Yeah...actually. My grandmother used to tell me stories about him. He was a Jedi, right?"

"Yeah," Poe answered. "He's The General's brother. They fought together during the Rebellion."

Kyra felt her forehead crease. "You mean he's real? That's not just a story?"

Poe gave her an incredulous look. "Of course he's real."

Kyra shook her head. "My grandma made it sound like magic...The Force...The Jedi. All these characters. She told me about Leia, his sister...I guess I never made the connection that was General Organa."

Poe sighed. "Well, anyways. Luke Skywalker had his own Jedi training academy, but disappeared years ago, after Leia's son, Ben, turned to the dark side. That's a whole other story," he began. "No one knows where he is, but he left a map to his whereabouts in fragments. The Resistance has collected every part of the map, except for the last one, which is believed to be possessed by Lor San Tekka, an old friend of Luke's."

Kyra shivered, a sense of familiarity passing over her. She felt like she'd heard this story before. "So that's why were trying to find him? To ultimately find Luke."

Poe shook his head. "Truthfully, I'm skeptical he can do much to help The Resistance. But he's General Organa's brother, so I can't deny her requests. The First Order wants to find him as well, which is why we had the run-in with Captain Terex on our last mission. It's why we need to be careful here, so we aren't caught."

Nodding, Kyra tried her best to process the information that Poe had just shared with her. She felt so ignorant to the events of the original rebellion against the Galactic Empire. How could she have known so little about it? How could she have thought Luke wasn't real. She perplexed herself.

Poe squeezed her shoulder again and she found him gazing once more at her. Normally she tried to shake off feeling flustered but this was different, it felt more intimate all the sudden and Kyra grew hot under his touch.

Clearing her throat, she spoke. "I think it's best that we head to bed now," she offered him a weak smile.

Poe gave a gentle nod in agreement, removing his arm from around her and getting off the bed, heading into the refresher. Without the warmth of his arm around her, Kyra felt chilled to the bone again.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x oc #poe dameron imagines #poe dameron x reader #star wars #Star Wars fanfiction #Star Wars imagines #star wars: the force awakens #the force awakens #the resistance #poe #Oscar Isaac #oscar isaac x reader #star wars: a new hope #fanfiction #writer #ao3 #star wars: the last jedi #star wars: return of the jedi #star wars: the clone wars #star wars: the empire strikes back #friends to lovers #looking for feedback #new to tumblr #black squadron #the force #archive of our own #hoth

[flickerthenflare]

Fic: Wonderland Revisited

Summary: Kurt and Blaine’s relationship progresses, but the romantic mood threatens to be undermined by an inappropriate song that won’t get out of Blaine’s head. PG-13. Read on AO3 here. 

This fic is meant to stand on its own, but it came out of a comment from @ancientgleek-youngatheart in “14 Seasonally Inappropriate Serenades.”

“John Mayer is musically stalking me,” Blaine complains over Skype to the only audience he expects to find both capable of being trusted with this knowledge and sympathetic. Blaine’s problem is the intersection of music and relationship advice, and there’s one person Blaine goes to for both. “That song is everywhere. It’s not even new and it’s everywhere.”

“Tell him you’re hapa and maybe his white supremacist dick will dick right off.” Wes barely glances up from his freshman philosophy textbook. Multitasking for Wes means acing classes at Ithaca and radiating brotherly disapproval simultaneously. Blaine doesn’t begrudge him for being busy with his new life, but it does make him pine for simpler days when they were both at Dalton and Wes’ full attention seemed to always be for him.

Blaine’s displeased huff comes out more like a whine. Blaine does not want to think about John Mayer’s dick when he’s trying to get closer to Kurt’s. Not at all. “I don’t think he’s into guys either, and yet he persists.”

“What were you doing to invite a John Mayer song into your life, Blaine?” Wes asks like Blaine and the song are having some frowned upon tryst. Wes looks up long enough to make sure Blaine knows he cares about his silly problems.

“I sang it to Kurt once. I accidentally sang it to Kurt once.”

Wes’ smirk gives away his bemusement. “Whoops, I slipped and a serenade came out?”

“I was just singing along with the radio! It’s catchy and I didn’t know he was there. And now it comes back at the most inopportune moments.” Blaine blushes. He and Kurt are just now getting into experiences where it’s simultaneously fitting and inappropriate to have lines like “discover me discovering you” in the back of Blaine’s mind. At least Kurt hasn’t noticed Blaine fighting back humming the tune. Yet.

“Ah, so this is a situation-specific earworm. Is Kurt’s body a wonderland?”

Blaine groans. “Shut up.”

“That’s the song, right?”

“Yes, that’s the song. As you can imagine, it’s not the vibe I’m going for on dates with Kurt. I didn’t mean to make it stick.” Blaine tries so hard to be a respectful boyfriend. Serenades directed at Kurt have largely been tasteful and none have been sung in states of partial undress (well, except the one that got Blaine banned from the Lima community pool, and Blaine still can’t decide to be proud or ashamed of how “no song and dance numbers” has since been added to the list of pool rules). Blaine would like to keep his serenades tasteful and clothed. “Your Body is a Wonderland” needs to leave him alone to increase his likelihood of success.

“Well, I’m sorry for your unusual predicament. Exorcising songs is not an area of expertise for me, but I can offer several alternatives if it gets stuck in your head. I’ll make you a mixtape,” Wes promises.

“And that works?”

“No guaranteed, naturally, but it won’t be the first problem solved by a good mixtape.”

***

At this point, intimacy for Blaine and Kurt is a tentative exploration that relies heavily on checking in and reassurances, and pausing to cool down, and blushing through giving encouragement on what the other should keep doing. Kurt sinks into Blaine’s comforter like he belongs there and guides where he’d like Blaine to be. They’ve lost all non-essential layers to a pile on Blaine’s floor. All that’s left is a little bit of proprietary and the two of them.

Blaine kisses along Kurt’s jaw and down to his neck as far as his skin is exposed. Kurt’s skin is as porcelain as the song Blaine doesn’t want to think about promises. The thought unwittingly brings several more lines from “Your Body is a Wonderland” to the front of Blaine’s mind.

“Shut the fuck up, John Mayer,” Blaine mutters against Kurt’s skin.

Thankfully, Kurt seems to be past actually listening to Blaine as long as neck kisses are involved. He hums contentedly like Blaine’s words were terms of endearment before the hand stroking down Blaine’s back stills. “Wait, what?”

“Can we put music on? We should put music on.”

Blaine scrambles toward his computer before he gets a reply. He reaches its home on his desk without leaving his bed. He needs something to block John Mayer from further working his way into his love life. He’s going to fight this earworm. Blaine scrolls quickly through his library, wracking his memory for an album or playlist that’s sensual but not raunchy.

And then he remembers Wes’ mixtape, which is actually not a tape but a zipped folder sent over email a few days ago. Wes has named the mix “Anything Is Better Than John Mayer.” The files all come through unlabeled, but Blaine trusts Wes’ music tastes. No doubt Wes has a repertoire of appropriately sensual and loving background tracks for lovemaking. Blaine queues up the playlist and returns to where Kurt is on Blaine’s bed.  

The song that starts is not instantly recognizable to Blaine, although somehow familiar, and it’s not what he would have chosen, but it definitely sets a mood.

On his hands and knees Blaine holds himself over Kurt’s once again and brushes their lips in a toe-curling slide.  A firm hand on Blaine’s ass encourages him to settle fully on top of Kurt. Nimble fingers work at the front of Blaine’s pants.

Then Boys II Men belt “I’ll make love to you!” and Blaine freezes.

“Wrong song! Hold on!” Blaine doesn’t want to move but he has to fix this. “Just give me a moment.” He pushes himself back up in spite of the hold Kurt has on him and the displeased noise Kurt makes. Blaine skips to the next song on the playlist with the hope that it’s more subtle.

Blaine settles back in, not quite as close, although Kurt is quick to change that. They pick up where they left off with unhurried kisses and an even slower progression to removing Blaine’s jeans. Blaine is lulled into a false sense of security from a perfectly normal-sounding song that suddenly becomes obviously The Spice Girls’ “Two Become One”.

“Um. Uh. Not that either.” Blaine reluctantly pulls himself away once more to press the skip button before the pop group can croon any more clichés about making love to candlelight. His face heats up from embarrassment even worse than it does from being turned on. He has a weakness for The Spice Girls, much like the rest of his generation, so he can almost forgive Wes, but he can’t seriously listen to them right now.

After two duds, Blaine should know better than to trust the third. Blame hormones or faith in the good intentions of his old prep school mentor, but pressing skip turns out to be a less ideal solution than just turning it off, because “I Wanna Sex You Up” comes next.

Blaine shuts off his music and slams his computer shut, but not before tumbling of the bed entirely in his eagerness to do so as quickly as possible. He lands on the floor with a thud and a bruised ego.

“That is the last time I take Wes’ advice on romantic jams without prescreening them.” Blaine lays where he landed and waits for the mortification of this moment to pass. Kurt looks down and Blaine feels exposed in a way he hadn’t when pressed up against Kurt. A moment ago he was sexy, and now he’s just a mess.

“Are you in a fight?” Kurt asks with mock seriousness. His eyes twinkle. He holds out a hand for Blaine.

“Just with John Mayer.” And then the name of the mix clicks. “It’s a joke. He’s teasing me.”

“John Mayer?”

“Wes. I had, uh, ‘Your Body is a Wonderland’ stuck in my head and turned to Wes for help,” Blaine confesses.

Blaine expects disapproval. He gets a laugh instead.

“I’ve had ‘Getting to Know You’ stuck in my head for days. Your song choice is at least appropriately inappropriate.”

Blaine finds himself holding back a laugh too. Blaine’s mind went with John Mayer, and Kurt’s went with a musical from the 50s.

“Well, I guess it was weird to borrow sexy songs from a friend anyway.” Blaine says. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea, Kurt, I swear. I would never.”

“Blaine. Do you think I’m mortified?”

Blaine squints at him. Kurt seems fine. Amused, even. “It’s just me, then? You didn’t care? Wait, were you… Were you going to take off my pants anyway? To the tackiest sex song I can think of?”

Kurt holds his gaze without a hint of shame. “Duh.”

Blaine can’t not kiss him for that.

“I’d do you to ‘Mambo Number 5,’ god, Blaine, I want you.”

A honest-to-goodness giggle bubbles up from Blaine’s chest. “I think we can do better than that.”

“Well, yes, of course we can. That’s not my point, but we can make a playlist of songs that are actually sexy. Our definition of sexy. To, you know, have sexy times with.”

Blaine’s mind pushes out the repeating chorus of “Your Body is a Wonderland” to make room for all the images Kurt’s promise conjures. “Okay.”

Blaine moves to remove his computer from the time out he put it in. Kurt holds him back.

“That’s not what I want to do right now.” Kurt makes his point clear with the most insistent kiss so far this afternoon, with none of the tentativeness of before. Blaine parts his lips and rests his flailing arms on Kurt. “Work up some inspiration with me first?”

Blaine is in complete awe, and, for a moment, completely breathless. “Kurt. You’re just…”

“A wonderland?” Kurt’s eyes twinkle. And then he goes back to what he was doing before the music so rudely interrupted.

#my fic #klaine fic #fic: 14 seasonally inappropriate serenades

[styx-n-stone]

The maintenance check

Lace Agate stared at the planet. "5,000 years and nothing has changed" She spoke in introspective reflection. "Pity, it would have been nice to have a new planet in this system." She turned to face her crew, busy at work. "Emeralds" she ordered the small gems. The psychic warriors scuffled over and aligned in front of her. "Yes Lace Agate" spoken in unison. "How do you see the landing going?" Lace said. The Emeralds looked at each other briefly before getting in their "thinking pose", as they call it. One by one they respond. "Lights!" "Poof" "Exhilarating!" Lace rolled her eyes, noting to herself to request a sapphire instead of the extra gem power. "That will be all" she grumbled , dismissing them. The Emeralds ran off giggling. Gray pearl approached her liege. "Olivine said we will be landing momentarily." Lace nodded. "Thank you, pearl." Pearl left muttering something like 'about time' or 'not soon enough'. Lace heard these, but had grown quite use to it. Pearl did good work albeit bitterly. The Agate was accustomed to getting the duds and less than exemplary, unfortunately. She thought in more depth about her crew. It wasn't much, to be fair. Two quartzes- Cloudy and Rutilated- for guards. Rarely were any real threats present, so they mostly assisted in keeping the Emeralds in check and any mechanical needs of the Olivine. Cloudy was honest and reliable, though occasionally caught daydreaming about stars know what. She generally helped Olivine with mechanical matinence. Her gem was milky white that always looked dirty, despite no reason to be. Ruttilated (the Emeralds gave her the nickname Rudy) was anxious. There was almost nothing about her that was soldierly. In fact, her gem seemed to have multiple cracks in it. Or, at least, appeared to. Ironically, she was the best at handling the Emeralds. The Emeralds were immature, spastic, and vague about everything. They were always together and always causing mischief. In all honesty, it made sense. Emeralds are the discount Sapphires and Premium rubies: warriors that can see the future. Good idea in theory, but no where near standards in practice. They gave each other nicknames. Their leader was "Eymerald", the smart one, who usually gave visual predictions. Then there was "Button", the sensitive one who gave feeling predictions. And finally "Anmerald" who.. was the unpredictable one. Her visons made no sense until retrospective. Olivine was an efficient and enthusiastic technician. Very witty but easily irritated. She worked but chatted the entire time. Lace felt lucky that cloudy kept her company. The Agate wouldn't last 5 minutes of "and the peridots think you can just REWIRE the main frame. Who does that? Anyway-" Then there was... Citrine. Citrines are supposed be more stealthy than Quartzes. But this Citrine... Is the laziest gem she's ever met. The most she does is talk to pearl and hang with the Emeralds. Lace frowned to herself. They can't help it. Production quality has gone down over the past few centuries. Less resources means less efficiency. At least she HAS a crew. The ship made an loud sound. Something like metal groaning as it's pushed against a wooden ground. "What was that?" She ordered. Olivine ran into the main deck. Almost stumbling. Cloudy managed to catch her before hand. "SOMETHING JUST FLEW PAST US AT WARP. THE NAVIGATIONAL SYSTEM IS MALFUNCTIONING." Lace looked over to her flight crew. They awaited her guidance. She opened her mouth to speak only to be thrown into the dash with a loud bang. The ship started a corkscrew. Rudy cried out and hid under the dash. The Emeralds joined her huddling against the Quartz. Cloudy secured Olivine. Citrine and Gray hung on railing. Lace realized what the Emeralds meant. She gripped the dashboard and attempted to turn the stabilizer on. Emergency lights strobing and smoke entering the bridge. The ship burning from the frictave atmosphere. Gravity took effect. Screaming Crash Smoke Then silence. Lace used the dash to pull her self up. She shifted her head to her disheveled crew. No one had dissipated. She lucked out. The crew gave a long hard moan of pain. "Olivine, diagnosis" Olivine pushed cloudy off of her and went over to a panel. "No response, power cell is most likely damaged- among other things." "Repair time?" "With the resources we possess?....21 to 42 lunar rotations. Perhaps 3-5 solar rotations at worst. " Lace grunted in dissatisfaction. "Open the door" Gray pearl attempted the key pad, but it was no use. Cloudy kicked the door open. it hit the ground with a loud bang that caused everyone to flinch. Lace lead the company out of the ship. They were on the edge of a lake. Somehow they avoided being submerged in water. A few trees were knocked over but for the most part the forrest appeared to be empty of intelligent life (other than insects). Lace nodded for Olivine to survey the exterior damage. She went off, cloudy instinctually following her. "Pearl, Ruttilated Quartz, search the area for inhabitants." Lace commanded. She turned to citrine, who was lazing on a tree branch. "Citrine!" The peach gem lost her balance and landed on the grass. "I need you em the wat-" she cleared her throat and spoke again, slower and more precise. " I need you to keep watch on the Emeralds." Then picking up pace again "Report any visions they have to me immediately." Citrine nodded and gave a poorly executed salute. "Aye aye Agate!" And left. Lace looked out into the open water. She only looked back at the ship briefly to double check if the Emeralds were there. They were. For a while, she was alone to her thoughts.... Pearl and Rudy walked through the many trees. Gray nearly blended with the shadows, Rudy noted. She knows why Lace wanted her to go scouting instead of citrine like usual. (Citrine had a tendency to wonder off) Still, she much rather had been with the Emeralds. They were kind to her, and took much comfort around her while also having the same affect on her. There was always reassurance about the future like "you aren't gonna be shattered" or "you're will do a good job" or - She walked into a tree. Gray pearl stopped and looked at her. "Watch where you walk, clod" she said, and walked on. Gray doesn't know why she was put with these lackluster fools. She curses the day Onyx betrayed homeworld. She curses the day Onyx was shattered, leaving her to be distributed to a low ranking corps who don't even take her advice. If she were an Agate she'd have them all harvested. If she were a Diamond she would have harvested and conquered all the planets in this galaxy. This orb was a pathetic waste of space. She tripped over a log. She could hear Rudy giggling. "Watch your step, cl-" Gray's head whipped to face the quartz with ill intent. Rudy shut her mouth tight. She actually wanted to live today. Meanwhile back at ship, Olivine and Cloudy surveyed the damage. The extensive amount of damage Olive continued to keep notes in her log "thrusters collapsed, router devices 4-12 are gone, front is detached from back, etc etc etc.." cloudy lifted some debris out of the way to help get into blocked off sectors. It was routine as usual. "You think you can fix it?" The Quartz asked. Olivine pulled up the notes and hummed in thought like an old computer calculating. She rubbed her visor to get some of the extra dust off. She grimaced. "With difficulty, but it's doable." She looked for any notes on earths resources. "This planet is supposed to be rich in material. We should be abto-" olive stared at the screen. "UHH" the noise from her theist was alarming. Cloudy leaned over to see the screen better. "Destruction imminent. 2 weeks overdue. Travel inadvisable." Olivine let loose a horrified screech and took off towards Lace Agate, stumbling over her limb enhancers repeatedly. Cloudy followed with similar urgency. ... Citrine messed with some of the buttons on the dash. "Where's the A/C on this thing?" Clearly, the dashboard didn't work, but citrine had assumed there was some back up power reserve Which there wasn't The Emeralds on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to not work. They took turns sitting in Lace's command chair and ordering each other around. Currently, Ann was in charge. "Emeralds, there is an intruder aboard. Attack!" "Aye aye Emerald!" The others yelled before tackling citrine. The yellow orange gem laughed. "Oh no! The great Ann has captured me. I'm at the mercy of the Green Diamond!" Eye and button lifted the soldier. "For The Diamonds!" They shouted, parading around Ann in militants fashion. An froze. So did button and eye. Citrine stared at her captors. "Uh, you guys ok?" She stood up. "'Ralds?" They stared into blank space. "We've got company" they said, in perfect unison. Citrine scratched her head. "What?" She looked to the gaping hole in the wall that was the entrance. No one was there. The only thing she could see was Lace Agate staring at the water. She turned back to the green group, "what are you talking-" but they had already resumed their game. Maybe Lace should know about this one. An hour had passed. Lace had already gone from introspective to pure day dream. She hadn't realized it at the moment. There was a group of fish that had caught her eye. She didn't even hear the sound of running and screaming behind her. "LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE" Olivine fell into the mud bellow Laces feet. Lace was startled. "Olivine is that anyway to compose yourself." She responded, though her voice barely coming back to her. Cloudy helped Olivine up. No less than a second later she went off about the situation, speaking 12 words a second. "Olivine, please slow down. I can't understand you." Olivine didn't hear her. Citrine had found her way over to the Agate as well and attempted communication. This was also ineffective, only making more disorganized noise. "EXCUSE ME" she barked. Both gems shut their mouths tightly. "Olivine, what is the matter." Olivine began to speak "Slowly." The technician blinked and began slowly. "A few centuries back during the gem war" "No, what is the matter now" "Oh well, two weeks ago the-" "Today! Olivine! Today!" "This planets going to explode." There was silence. "What." "The cluster that was scheduled to emerge is two weeks overdue" "What?!" Lace, Citrine, and the Emeralds (who had wondered over during a game of tag) were now in an abstract state of terror: Paralyzed. "WELL WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT IT?! WE NEED THE SHIP FIXED NOW!" Lace said, figuratively spitting venom. Olivine trembled. "I CAN NOT FIX IT FAST. I COULDNT IF I HAD ALL THE RESOURCES AND UPDATED TECH WITH ME. IT IS NOT POSSIBLE." She was almost crying. The event was interrupted by gray and Rudy returned. "We've got company." Said Gray. The company looked to them. Lace raised an eyebrow. "Who?" The Agate asked in a low voice that might as well been a growl. "Oh Craaaazy Laaaaaaacce~ is that you?" A familiar voice sung out. Lace Agate finally understood how truly miserable her situation is. She hissed the name she hadn't spoken in centuries. "Apatite"

#Apaverse #my story #Lace Agate #Emerald crew #gray pearl #cloudy Quartz #Rudy Quartz #olivine #citrine #apatite #I don't even know