#and they accepted them without much difficulty leaving shiver to relax and by relax I mean imedietely explode from the change in emviorment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvyanfei · 3 years

Text

how they comfort you when you’re sad

ft. diluc, kaeya, venti, childe, zhongli, albedo, & xiao non-requested piece

diluc ragnvindr.

as stoic as diluc may be, he’s the most emotionally affected by your misery out of the others listed here, but he’s clueless in how to help. he’s not adept in everything despite being known for being a perfectionist and unfortunately, comforting you is one of them. he would reach out a hand to you, and then pull it back to his side before you notice. it annoys him greatly how he can insult the knights without hesitation and combat against his enemies confidently, and yet...

it’s easy to get diluc flustered over the simpler things in life. you’re usually so happy and lively, the light to his dark that he finds it almost eerie to see you looking depressed as you enter the tavern. you don’t even spare him a glance, and slumps down at an empty seat, your head splayed down on the table. out of concern for your wellbeing, the winery owner whips up your favourite drink free of charge and delivers it himself to your spot. instead of leaving you as one would expect, he pulls up a chair and taps the wooden surface of the table with his gloved fingers, stirring you to look up at him. he greets you in a monotone voice unintentionally, and shyly asks if there are any problems going on in your life. he may not look like it, with how distant he is, but diluc would be very pleased to help you.

with hesitation, you take the drink and start taking small sips from the cup. the savory taste melts on your tongue and your lips quiver slightly. before you know it, you’re reduced into a sobbing mess, your tears staining the floor. “what’s wrong?” dismayed, diluc rises up and pats your back, handing you a handkerchief from his jacket pocket for you to wipe your tears away with.

he ushers you into a private room where nobody can see you and rubs your hands together. he doesn’t talk, instead fixating on calming you down. dabbing at your swollen eyes and cheeks gently with a drenched towel, diluc cradles your face and leans in close to you, your foreheads touching. “i’m here, [name],” his voice is soft and delicate, a sharp contrast to his formal and uninterested tone, “i will always be here for you, so you don’t need to worry about suffering alone. we’ll get through this together, alright?”

kaeya alberich.

he’ll take you to the tavern with him for a nice drink. it won’t do you any good to be by yourself and moping, right? as hypocritical as it may seem, kaeya is fully accepting of you coming to him for emotional support despite being rather closed-off when it comes to his personal emotions. if you’re underage, he’ll purchase you a soft drink or juice, and if not, a glass of wine will surely boost your spirits up. his attempt to cheer you up is to temporarily distract you from it. quite clever of him, no? of course, his objective isn’t for you to ignore your problems altogether, but to take your mind off of it until you can think a bit clearly.

kaeya will act like a gentleman the whole time, letting a few teasing remarks slip out every now and then, but his attitude is toned down for the most part. after you consumed a plentiful amount of beverages, he takes a stroll with you in the night, passing by a bard stringing music on their lyre. this gives the cavalry captain an idea and he takes you into a secluded area, fireflies glowing to add a touch of whimsy to the scenario. still gripping your hand, he raises it up to kiss the surface and proposes you to join him in for a dance under the moonlight and stars.

kaeya looks at you with a brimming grin. “are you feeling better now?” you nod, placing a hand on his open palm.

“now that you’re here, yes, i am.” his smile broadens and cups your cheek with his free hand. the tip of his thumb lightly grazes your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. the kiss is passionate and savory, a description that fits your relationship perfectly.

“i’m glad you do,” he pulls back and breathes out a sigh of relief. “it’s the same with me. i admit, i also enjoy your company very much.”

venti.

it’s best to let your emotions run loose. don’t bottle it up, okay? if you need to cry, then cry. sure, venti may act all carefree and exuberant, but even he has his serious sides from time to time. he takes the situation rather calmly, pulling you into a comforting embrace and rubbing your back as you tearfully sob. when he feels that you’re muscles have slowly relaxed and your cries have been reduced to tiny sniffles, he transitions out of the hug and places his hands on your shoulder, all with an angelic smile on his face. see, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?

if you’re up for it, venti will be happy to play you a quiet melody carried in the night breeze. he’ll position your head to lean on his shoulder as both of you sit down on the ground and he clears his throat before he begins singing. the stringing of the lyre, the gentle rustle of the leaves in the background, and the soothing sound of his voice automatically brings a smile to your lips. snuggling closer to him, you drift in a state of contentment and serenity. once the bard catches wind of your heavy breathing, your eyes fluttered closed, he stops his singing and presses a dainty kiss to your forehead.

carefully, so he doesn’t disturb your slumber, venti carries you back to your resident and tucks you into bed. as he’s about to head off, you snag him by the wrist, and tug him back to your side. “please don’t go yet, venti.” he pats the hand imprisoning his wrist and chuckles in amusement.

“don’t worry. i don’t plan on ever doing something like that.” he crawls into bed with you, tangling your legs together and hooking his arms around your waist. the tip of his nose grazes your hair faintly as your back is pressed against his chest. “not now, and not ever.”

childe.

he’s the eleventh harbinger, yes, but beneath his fearsome title and mischievous demeanor, childe is a regular human with an affable heart. it hurts him seeing you look dejected, as if you’re on the brink of suffocating from insufferable pain. it’s like your emotions are a type of infection, contagious to say the least. if you’re happy, then he’s happy. if you’re sad, then you’ll bet he’s also going to drop his jovial gleam. luckily, growing up with siblings gives him an advantage here. he’s used to taking care of others and turning their frowns upside down.

if he finds out someone has been upsetting you, he’ll personally deal with them himself, ordering them to apologize lest they want to face his wrath. if you’re having financial difficulties, he’ll lend you a generous amount of mora so you can clear your debts or help you find a well-paying job. either way, he’ll cradle you in his arms and compliment you for being strong, no matter what life throws at you. life’s hard, but that’s all the more reason why you should keep marching forward - hand in hand with childe.

“shh, [name], it’s okay. don’t cry.” childe kneels before you and wipes away a salty tear. grabbing a teddy bear abandoned on the ground, he shoves it in front of your face. to your sudden bewilderment, he grabs the bear’s arm to pat you on the head and grins. “there, there. mr. teddy is here to make you happy once more.”

you sputter out a giggle despite tears still leaking from your eyes. “childe, i’m not a little kid anymore. cut it out!” he resists the urge to pinch your cheeks when you pout cutely at him.

“fine, fine. i’ll stop, but hey! at least you’re smiling again, right?” you roll your eyes and sniff.

“yeah, i’m feeling a little better. thank you.”

your comment forms a blush to dust his cheeks and he sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “there’s no need for gratitude. to me, your smile is the one thing i’d hate to lose.”

zhongli.

feeling sad? his arms are already wide open and a box of tissues is conveniently laid on the table. zhongli is the wave that laps up your sorrows and tears, the lulling sound of his voice uttering words of reassurance like a tranquil melody to set your heart at ease. he’s the type who will lend a shoulder for you to cry on. while he brews up a nice cup of tea to soothe your mind, he encourages you gently to tell him whatever it is that’s bothering you. he soaks up every syllable that falls from your lips like a sponge and in a pensive state, he gives you advice in turn.

you take his words to heart, since everything he’s said before have always been genuine and your trust in him runs deeper than the bottom of the sea. sure, maybe not everything he says is the answer that will cause your problems disappear, but he does guide you to choose rationally how you want to approach it. as much as zhongli would like to solve everything for you, he’s aware that there are times where only you have the potential to fix the issue.

the golden ginkgo leaves twirl in the autumn breeze, as zhongli clasps his hands with yours. you adjust the scarf around your neck, shivering from the mild chill settling in liyue.

you stare grimly at the seagulls soaring in the cloudy sky, and peers down at your feet planted firmly on the ground. a frown tugs on your lips and you sigh. a warm hand caresses your cheek and you look towards zhongli smiling gently in your direction. wiping away the tears that are beginning to moist your eyes, he encages you in a comforting hug.

“don’t hold it in,” zhongli whispers soothingly in your ear, “you’re allowed to cry if you want. i promise you, there’s no judgement.”

albedo.

it’s like he has a sixth sense. you could have been crying in your sleep last night and the first thing you wake up to is all your favourite meals placed rigorously on a sliver tray and a positive message with cursive, neat handwriting scribbled on a notepad for you to read. albedo is rather considerate, like that. before you started to live together and entered a more domestic relationship, he visited your home and asked if anything was wrong in a neutral tone that belied his concern. you were shocked how he could have possibly known since you were sure you concealed the visible evidences skillfully with makeup, and you looked quite normal for the most part, as if you hadn’t been crying mere seconds before he knocked on your door.

he shrugs indifferently and responds that he just has a feeling something’s bothering you. albedo will take a day off from his confinement in his lab so he can stay with you. he takes you by the hand and gestures for you to sit down on a nearby chair beside him, offering you delectable appetites to eat while you rant to him. once you’re finished spilling out your problems, he kisses you on the forehead and tells you that you did a good job. it isn’t easy to admit you’re not mentally well, in which he praises you for.

hugging your legs to your chest, you quietly ask him if it’s not a bother. firmly, albedo shakes his head and squeezes your hand reassuringly. “no, you’re never a bother.” he scoops up a spoonful of ice cream and feeds you the cool dessert. once you swallow, his lips curve into a little smirk as he wipes away the excess on the side of your mouth with a finger and licks the cream off with his tongue.

“whether you’re happy, sad, or disappointed, my love for you will never change.”

xiao.

he’s not very good at handling these types of situations. xiao can never know what he’s supposed to say or do to make you feel better, so he just stands there awkwardly. please don’t blame him! he’s already terrible at consoling himself that having to cheer someone else up seems more like an impossible challenge than a simple task. however, like albedo, he can also sense if you’re depressed or in need of saving. what do you mortals call it, an instinct?

he asks verr for advice on what to do to help, and she suggests for him to stick by your side and show that he cares deeply about you. it takes xiao a while to come up with a suitable plan. he wanders up to the highest floor of wangshu inn and reminisces over the past. your first meeting with him, the time when you gave him almond tofu, and when you both fought together to protect liyue - he’s memorized it all down to the last detail. suddenly, an idea clicks into place and he teleports immediately to where you are. sitting on a bench alone, while you absentmindedly watch the birds peck at the crumbs scattered on the cement floor, it takes you by surprise when you find xiao hovering above you. he reaches out his hand and composedly asks if you would be willing to accompany him for the night.

when you encounter him at the location where you agreed to meet, you curiously question xiao what he wants to do, but he doesn’t reply. instead, he scoops you up in his arms, a surprised expression on your face as you wrap your arms around his neck so you don’t end up falling. before you know it, both of you are... soaring in the air? your eyes subconsciously drift to his vision glowing brightly in the murky night. so he’s using his anemo abilities to create wind currents and literally sweep you off your feet.

“do you see this place?” he gestures with his head for you to look at liyue harbor. the city lights glow in the darkness and most people are walking back home, idly chatting with each other and giggling. “it wouldn’t be as peaceful as it is now if it weren’t for you. so if you ever feel sad again, know that it’s you who puts a smile on everyone’s faces - including mine.”

and with that, xiao smiles serenely at you, to which you finally offer a grin of your own.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #xiao #albedo #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli #venti #venti x reader #childe x reader #childe #diluc #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya

2K notes · View notes

tacticaldiary · 3 years

Note

Could you do a fluffy Shinah fic where she learns to read his body language and cues instead of making him talk. He's such a cutie 🥺

Body Language

Pairing: Reader x Shin-Ah

Genre: Fluff

It's the little things that matter. Taking into consideration what makes him comfortable and adapting to it is one of the things that he appreciates.

Masterlist

Silence was something Shin-ah was used to. Over the years, he's learnt that silence, the lack of sound, can be both good and bad.

The silence between the two of them, however, was always a good kind.

Yona had noticed a pattern over the past few months. A pattern between Shin-ah and Y/N.

She first noticed it when all of them had been sitting around the fire for dinner one day, and Shin-ah had momentarily looked up from his half-empty bowl of stew. Yona remembers watching as Y/N glances at him, before gently taking his bowl from his hands and slipping in a few mushrooms into the broth.

The small smile Shin-ah graces her with as he's handed back his bowl makes Yona present a smile of her own.

The second time, it's in battle. Y/N was a formidable fighter, having been self taught. Shin-ah and her were back to back, taking on enemies from either sides. Yona watches, perched onto a nearby cliff for a better vantage point, taking bandits out with her arrows.

She watches as Y/N glances behind her for a split second, before tossing her sword to Shin-ah and attacking the bandit in front of her empty handed. While Shin-ah makes quick use of the sword, the bandit Y/N charges at is surprised enough to not put up a good fight.

As the dust settles, Yona watches him return Y/N's sword, reaching don to ruffle her hair. The affectionate gesture stuns her, as it's so uncharacteristic.

"How did you do that?" Yona speaks up, watching the pair of them curiously.

Shin-ah had been looking for a pencil. Before he could communicate the need for one, however, Y/N had glanced up from her book and tossed him one.

"Hmm?" She puts her book down.

"You just seem to-to know." Yona continuous on. "It's amazing how the both of you just seem to know each other without talking."

Y/N smiles. It had taken a while, a long long while to get familiar with the way Shin-ah worked. From beside her, she can feel him shifting to sit cross-legged. Ao, who was previously perched on his shoulder scuttles towards Yona, hopping onto her lap.

"Speaking isn't the only way to communicate." Y/N shrugs.

"I know that, but to be so in tune... I'm kind of jealous." She grins when Y/N chuckles. She leans her head against his shoulder, her smile widening when he welcomes the gesture by not tensing or moving away. Shin-ah, although not exactly skittish, sometimes still had difficulty accepting these gestures.

She knows Shin-ah doesn't like to talk much. There weren't many opportunities to talk as he grew up. He seems much more comfortable keeping quite most of the time, and Y/N eventually decides to adapt to make him feel more comfortable.

If that meant paying attention to his body language, then so be it.

Yona startles at Zeno's voice, calling for her outside the tent. Excusing herself, she hurries away, leaving the two of them alone.

"...Thank you." His voice sends a small, pleasant shiver down her spine. It always does.

"Of course." She replies with a smile, tilting her head up to look at him.

"I'm not going to make you talk if you don't want to." Shin-ah nods gratefully, and really, he's so thankful to have Y/N by his side, even if he has trouble expressing that sometimes.

One look at the way he seems to get lost in his thoughts, and Y/N shuffles closer. The sun peeks through the slightly open flap of the tent, bathing them in golden light. She has a fleeting thought about the colour matching his eyes.

"It's rather warm today." She comments, relaxing against his side.

He hums in agreement.

Requests Are Open!

(21/10/2021)

328 notes · View notes

lixnininotnay · 3 years

Note

Hey do u think you could just do some yan hank x reader :) thank u :)

Hello, and thank you for being the first one to send me a request! And sorry for making you wait for so long, first I thought doing a few headcanons, but soon my ideia became an one-shot, and then it turned out in a full story (sort of, lol). Let's start this tragedy! I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: this story contains a lot murder, description of death, blood, emotional, psychological and physical abuse, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships and behavior, yandere, obsession and others topics. It's not recommended to read it if you are uncomfortable with any of those.

P.s.: if I forgot to put some warning or if you spot any grammatical error, please tell me! I would be thankful.

All the mistakes you made (A Yandere!Hank x reader story)

Chapter I. - Your first mistake.

You kicked and squirmed against the man who held you in a grip that felt like steel, but even though you were giving it your all, your resistance was showing no result. In fact, it looked to him like you were just a rag doll that he was carrying on his shoulder, but it was also because you were weak and heavily injured.

"Let me go, your fucking bastard!" You hissed. No answer. He just continued walking stilly, like if it was the most ordinary thing that ever happened.

But to be truthful, that wasn't the most eccentric thing he'd ever done. Hank was famous for causing large-scale massacres, but you didn't believe in it before, after all, how could a single person destroy entire units by himself and without leaving any witnesses?

You thought it was all a farce, that in reality it was a group that was after all this killing, and they pretended to be only one person to strike fear so nobody would try to counter them. So you ended up accepting the mission to go after that guy called "Hank" in order to investigate further and see if your theory was correct, you were curious to see the truth. That was your first mistake. You were in an arsenal of the A.A.H.W. with other mercenaries and agency members, they apparently managed to locate approximately where his base is and planned to attack in a large number, and they also talked about the possiblity of having a pizza party that might happen after, but you didn't mind too much.

While everyone was getting ready and arming themselves to the teeth, you could hear an explosion noise, followed by gunfire and screams filled of agony. Everything happened so fast that you couldn't ratiocinate correctly.

You quickly obeyed your senses and threw yourself behind a pillar, thus protecting yourself from the barrage of gunfire that followed right after, that covered the entire room in red and yellow. After everyone realized that the enemy had finally run out of ammo, the ones who survived came out of their hiding places and started trying to fight back, but were quickly killed one by one. Picking up an AK-74, you tried to get as far away as possible, knowing that facing danger head-on would be futile.

Going up a staircase and reaching a higher landing, you got behind a container and peeked out to see who the enemies were. As a consequence, taking a fright when realizing that it was just one person, not a group, easily killing several with just a katana in hand. You tried to ignore this fact and focus on the battle, firing and managing to land two shots on him.

Hank rapidly became annoyed, and started to ignore the agents that were going at him and changed his direction to you and the other two snipers who were on your side. For a split second, as he lifted his head to see where the shots were coming from, you could see bloodlust in his eyes, similar to a malicious and hungry animal, it was terrifying.

And then he began to move in a fierce way, brutally slicing anyone on his path to you. You were trying to reload your gun and to back away even more, but he had already gone up the stairs, kicked the closest sniper in the face causing them to hit their head against the wall, instantly killing them. He tried to cut you in half with his katana right away, but you managed to hold the blow using the AK-74 and kicked him in the stomach, pushing him away.

The second sniper tried to shoot him, but Hank managed to ricochet two bullets, hitting them back and in the meantime you bolted behind a wall, he took the gun from the first one he killed, and you started exchanging shots. You got hit twice, once in the shoulder and once in the abdomen, and you ran out of bullets, when he realized that, he went straight towards you and tucked the gun behind his back. You tried to run away, but he had already reached and started to strangle you, he wanted to have the satisfaction of killing you with his bare hands.

You struggled for air, but his grip was stronger, you could see the sadistic urge to kill in him, without showing an ounce of pity.

Just when you thought it was your end, the second soldier shot Hank, before they took their last breath and died in their own blood trail made after they crawled close enough to aim. In the second he momentarily loosened his grip, even though you were still dizzy from the lack of air, you managed to grab the gun from Hank's back after the shot, struck him with it, taking him off you and getting up quickly with the help of the the wall, trying to hold the gun and aim it, shivering from the adrenaline, bruises and out of breath.

"It's over. Just give up already." You demanded.

"You're a really annoying bitch." Hank hissed, still on the floor and with one hand on the left side of his face, where you hit him and cracked the glass of his goggles.

And all of a sudden, just when you thought Hank was finished, he got up, you tried to react but your movements were still slow. He grabbed the gun from your hands, caught you around the neck with his other hand, making you bang your head against the wall and then knocking you to the ground. The impact was so bad that you felt blood seeping from your lips and a tremendous headache, making you whimper in pain. Hank just chuckled at your state.

"Goin' down that easily? You're pathetic." Hank mocked you as he approximated. You tried to creep away but he stepped on your back, stopping you once more. He bent down to look at you closely, your eyes still had the slendor of the desire to fight and survive, an expression on the face from someone that wouldn't give up yet, he loved it. He stopped for a second to think, then continued. "Y'know what? I liked you, just love your type." You tried to process what he told you, but nothing made sense. "I'm keepin' you with me. Stay here." He said as he got off from you, but before shooting one of your legs. What made you scream out loud in pain, the adrenaline of the moment passed causing all the pain to hit you at once, while Hank came down from the platform to kill the rest of the agents, and the A.T.P. soldiers and mags that just arrived.

Everything in you hurts, even breathing, it was hard to relax. You spent a few minutes lying on the floor listening to the gunshots and screams in the background that haunted your ears, sounds that were becoming more muffled as the time passed, and trying to somehow control the pain, however your efforts did not yield results, the burning sensation of your wounds remained and you were struggling to not faint. When your vision started to get blurry, you heard something:

"Hello? Anyone's listening? Hello?" You turned your head to the voice, it was coming from the room that had the radio. "I repeat, anyone's listening?"

Clinging to what you thought was a glimmer of hope, you rise up with difficulty from the ground and began to stumble to the station, almost slipping in your own puddle of blood. After arriving with difficulty in the chamber, you answered. "Yes, (Y/N) talking, it's an emergency." You battled to say, your throat felt like it was on fire.

"What happened?"

"Hank invaded the base, we need units, NOW!" You tried to demand, your voice was still weak.

"It will take some time, we don't have any available next to your location." That irritated you.

"For the fuck sakes, we don't have time--" They hung up, wich made you rage and question if all your efforts were in vain.

You tried to keep your composure, after stopping for a few seconds to calm down, you rummaged around and found some bandages and an adrenaline shot in one of the lockers, which you used to cover the wounds and applied to yourself, now managing to stand up and even walk. And digging a little further you found a knife bag with a knife inside, which you decided to hide in one of your boots, and a pistol that you kept in your hands.

When you left the room, you decided that you were going to run away without anyone noticing, to hell the reward money. Watching your surroundings and hiding behind the containers, you saw that Hank was no longer in sight which made you panic, but you also saw the body of the guy who saved you, you tried to check their pulse, but they were gone.

"Thank you. Rest in peace, my man." You said in respect, while closing their eyes, knowing that if they didn't help, you would be dead. Before getting up and leaving you saw that in their pocket there was a grenade, which you decided to take.

You rushed down the stairs and walked down one of the long corridors for what felt like hours, the place looked like a maze full of corpses, making it obvious that Hank has been through here. Entering and turning in several corridors, trying to remember where is the exit, made you regret to not paying attention and memorize the place, this base was gigantic.

Hearing heavy footsteps approaching you, you entered a room that looked like a dormitory and hid under a bunk bed, carrying the pistol. You heard the door open again.

"You really don't obey when someone says to, do you?" You can feel the irritation in his speech, sounded like Hank was searching for you for some time already.

He began looking around the room for you, kicking and knocking over some furniture in the process, you started crawling under the beds trying to make as much silence as possible and get next to the door. For a moment he stopped and was silent, a sudden movement that made you uneasy. He was trying to hear you. After what seemed an eternity of silence, he turned his head towards the bed you were hiding underneath.

Fuck it.

You abruptly ran to the door for your life, and before he could do anything, you took aim and started shooting towards him to keep your distance and threw the grenade at him, closing the entrance as you left. Even though, he protected himself with using the beds, leaving no major injuries on him, it really took him by surprise. Hank didn't expect that you could do all of this for your bruises, you sure were an interesting person. Now he really wants you.

You sprinted as fast as you could, your movements becoming more clumsy as the pain returned, but it didn't stop you. Finally finding the exit, you spotted a vehicle that could easily get in and hot-wire it, but wasn't able to, despair making it even harder. In this short meantime, you felt a pair of hands pulling you by the collar of your shirt and pulling you out of the vehicle.

"You really know how to get under my skin." he admitted, both out of admiration and irritation in a threatening way, looking directly in your eyes. And he threw you over his shoulder, hurting you and making you drop your pistol in the process. He couldn't be gentle even if his life depended on it. "I'd have drive us both to the base, but you are such a fucking annoyance that makes it impossible." And then he started walking with you on his shoulder.

What he said made you shiver, what was he planning to do with you? You started to struggle, waiting for him to let go of you, but he just held you tighter. You soon ran out of strength and gave up, getting more tired and weaker by every minute, all this agitation was too much for you, so eventually, you end up passing out from exhaustion.

Hank still couldn't figure out what he found so fascinating about you, maybe because you, a nobody, managed to survive him for so long, few did, or because of your determination and how you surprised him, or even the way you looked at him, he loved to see that mixture of fear, hate and will to live in your face, it was so intriguing.

Whatever it was, he wouldn't be worrying and questioning himself nonstop right now, he didn't need to. Because he would have all the time he wanted to discover now.

#madcom x reader #yandere madness combat #madness combat x reader #yandere hank #yandere x reader #tw yandere

183 notes · View notes

prepare4trouble · 3 years

Text

Vikings fanfic - Without Words

A week or so ago I posted this ficlet based on a prompt about Ivar losing his hearing. I expanded upon it and it grew into this 6K word fanfic...

(Ivar/OC in the latter half)

Writer does not have hearing loss, and I apologise for any inaccuracies. If anything is really bad, let me know and I will try to put it right.

====================

It is so subtle at first that he almost doesn’t notice; a misheard word here, an accusation of not paying attention there, the occasional smirk from Hvitserk as he repeats whatever he had said, enunciating to the point of ridiculousness for comedic effect. For a long time, Ivar dismisses it, passing it off as tiredness, or distractedness, or assuming that the noise around him is too loud and that everybody is having the same difficulty. For a time, it isn’t a problem.

But, as things have an unfortunate tendency to do, it grows worse until not only does he know, without a shadow of a doubt, what is happening to him, but despite his best efforts, other people begin to notice too.

“What’s going on with you?” Hvitserk asks him one evening as they relax among groups of men drinking and feasting in the great hall at Kattegat. Once, Ivar would have been sitting on one of the thrones overlooking the room, leading the celebration yet at the same time apart from it. No more. Now, he sits on a long bench, next to his brother, with a cup of ale in one hand, and the hum of conversation all around him. Everywhere he looks, people are drinking and celebrating, singing and shouting, and Ivar struggles to make out his brother’s words over the background noise.

But he does make it out, and the words -- the confirmation that Hvitserk knows, sends a shiver down his spine.

He turns to look at his brother for a moment, temporarily lost for words, caught between two possible responses; he can either feign confusion and deny that anything is wrong, carry on pretending for a few more weeks, or he can answer his brother’s question. After all, it has been getting progressively worse, and eventually it will be impossible to deny it.

Of course there is always the possibility, however slim, that he is mistaken about the meaning of his brother’s question, and that Hvitserk is asking him about something else...

“Did you hear me?” Hvitserk asks him. There is genuine concern on his face, and in that moment Ivar realises that there is no option to deny it. The worst part is, he doesn’t hear that question. He simply pieces it together from the fragments of words that he does make out, the expression on Hvitserk’s face, and the shapes that his brother’s lips make as he speaks.

Unable to bring himself to reply, Ivar nods mutely.

“Then tell me,” Hvitserk insists. He leans forward, closer to Ivar, either to convey the urgency of the conversation, or to ensure that Ivar can hear his words, Ivar isn’t sure.

Ivar hesitates. It seems pointless; Hvitserk clearly knows, and as Ivar has no idea what is causing the problem, or what he can do about it, telling him feels like an exercise in futility. Worse, it feels like an admission of weakness.

He feels a stab of anger and frustration at the situation, at the unfairness of it, and at Hvitserk’s lack of thought. After all, if his brother had actually thought about it, he might have chosen to have this conversation almost anywhere else. Somewhere more private, and somewhere where the ambient sounds did not blur into one overpowering wave that drowned out his words.

“Ivar…” Hvitserk says, and Ivar realises with a thrill of horror that although he sees it, recognising the familiar shape of his name on Hvitserk’s lips, he doesn’t hear the word at all.

He takes a deep breath, then instead of attempting a reply, he reaches for his crutch, pushes himself to his feet, and escapes the room as quickly as he can, leaving Hvitserk to watch him go.

Ivar sits on a large rock on the land just outside of Kattegat, and shivers in the chill air. It is not yet winter, but he can feel the season lurking around the corner, waiting for its moment. Any day now, he expects to see the first flakes of snow.

He has never liked the snow. Even now that his braces and his crutch allow him to walk, and he no longer needs to suffer the indignity and discomfort of crawling through it when it is shallow enough, or being carried when it is not, its presence makes it so much more difficult to move around. But for now, the ground is clear, and that allows him the opportunity to escape the city, and make his way, alone and unaided, into the edge of the woods where he and his brothers had once used to play.

He closes his eyes, and listens to the world around him. Although the wind blows hard and cold around his ears, he cannot hear it. Neither can he hear the rustle in the leaves and the needles of the trees that surround him. Somewhere high above, a bird makes a high-pitched cry, and that is exactly as clear as it should be. Other than that, outside of the city and away from the sounds of people, he finds himself faced with an eerie silence.

He shivers again, and this time it has nothing to do with the chill in the air.

It is getting worse. Already, struggles to make out words. He mishears and misunderstands, and when the sounds around him grow too loud, they chase words away, force them to disappear into the background where he has no hope of hearing them. Even when it is quiet, some voices, those of certain pitches, are almost lost to him.

He wonders how long it will be before the whole world fades into a permanent silence, and he wonders what he will do then.

He feels the need to speak now, or to clap his hands, to whistle; anything to break the silence and to reassure himself that he can hear. He wants to scream to the gods; beg them to make it stop. He would offer them any sacrifice they desired, if only they would grant him that one favour, but he has tried, and they were uninterested.

He wants to cry, but at the same time a part of him wants to laugh at the irony. After so long; a whole lifetime, of learning to accept the truth of who he is, of what he is, it seems so unfair that this should happen now.

He senses the hand of Loki in the timing.

He resists the urge to make a sound. Instead, he does nothing. Instead, he sits, listening to the silence; facing it head on, as he would any enemy. If this is to be his future, he needs to be ready for it.

He does not believe that he ever will be.

“You will have to talk about it eventually, you do realise that, right?”

For quite some time, Hvitserk had been looking as though he had something to say, and for just as long, Ivar had been carefully avoiding his gaze, refusing to make eye contact, and talking about other things, in the hopes that his brother might either forget, or decide to put off the conversation for another time.

No such luck, apparently.

He should not be surprised. It has been almost a full month since Hvitserk’s last attempt, and in that time, although the situation had grown only slightly worse, it had certainly grown no better.

Ivar picks up his drink from the table and takes a swig, still studiously avoiding Hvitserk’s eye. He does not react, as though he had not heard him speak. It is a plausible enough lie, anyway.

“Ivar…” A hand touched his arm, just where the first strap of his leather glove fastens tightly around his wrist. Ivar flinches at the unexpected contact and, before he can stop himself, turns to look at his brother.

Hvitserk says nothing else. Instead, he simply looks at Ivar searchingly, waiting.

“Why?” Ivar asks, when he can bear it no longer. “Why must I talk about it?” After all, the problem is his, not Hvitserk’s, or anybody else’s for that matter.

“So, you did hear me,” Hvitserk says. He picks up his own cup and takes a sip of his water -- he does not drink ale or mead any more, for fear that he might slip back into old habits. That is something else that they do not talk about. There are so many subjects that they avoid by this point, that Ivar has almost lost track. He does not understand why this should be any different.

Ivar glares at him. “Of course I heard you,” he says. “It’s quiet in here. You are the only one speaking.”

Hvitserk frowns, then glances around them. Ivar follows his gaze, realising as he does, something that he should have noticed earlier; that cannot possibly be true. There are other people in the room, and they must be talking and laughing together, sharing stories, making bets, and doing what people do when they come together at the end of the day. Ivar tries to hear them, but other than a vague hum, the room is almost silent.

He feels shame, and he does not know why. He has never been embarrassed by his limitations. But of course, this is different, because this is new, and he does not know how to deal with it.

Suddenly, he feels the overwhelming need to leave. He needs, desperately, to be anywhere other than here in this room, having this conversation. The air feels thin, as though it is suffocating him, and the room is too warm, and too full, and too… He reaches for his crutch, propped against the bench between himself and Hvitserk, but Hvitserk, uninhibited by ale, moves faster than him, and gets there first. He snatches the crutch out of the way before Ivar’s fingers can make contact with it.

“Don’t do that again, Ivar,” Hvitserk tells him. “Please.”

For a moment, Ivar stares at his brother in disbelief, struggling to process what is happening. A sudden surge of anger washes over him, and before he allows himself time to think, he makes his hand into a fist, and throws a punch to the side of Hvitserk’s head.

Hvitserk cries out in pain at the unexpected blow. He falls to the side, but manages to catch himself on the edge of the table before he lands on the ground. Still, the moment of disorientation gives Ivar the opportunity he needs and he slides backward from the bench onto the floor. His legs, held rigid by his braces, make it more difficult to maneuvere on the ground than it ordinarily would be, but still he quickly positions himself behind Hvitserk, grabs him by the waist of his pants, and pulls him to the ground with a swift tug.

Hvitserk hits the ground so hard that Ivar hears the impact. Ivar reaches across his brother, digging an elbow hard into his stomach as he does, and grabs his crutch from where it had landed on the ground.

“This is mine,” he says. “Don’t touch it.”

For a moment, he thinks that Hvitserk is going to fight back, but he doesn’t. Instead, he drops his arms to his side, and remains where he is, laying on his back on the floor, with the eyes of a dozen men staring down at him with varying expressions of amusement and pity. Hvitserk nods. “Okay,” says the shape that his lips make, and Ivar does not know whether he cannot hear him because Hvitserk is winded by the fall, or whether it is his ears failing him again.

He supposes it doesn’t matter; he knows that he has made his point.

He uses the bench to pull himself into a seated position on the floor, and then presses one palm hard into the wooden surface to lift himself to sit on the bench, while levering himself to his feet using the crutch.

He tugs his tunic to straighten it after their scuffle, then looks down at Hvitserk, still staring up at him from the ground. Finally, he turns, and makes his way out of the building, feeling wary eyes on him as he goes.

The streets of Kattegat are lit only by moonlight, and Ivar walks more slowly than usual, careful to avoid any unseen obstacles that might get caught under his feet or crutch and cause him to fall. Unfortunately his slow progress means that Hvitserk catches up to him with ease.

He gets a perverse sense of satisfaction from the fact that his brother is noticeably limping. He is holding his back rigid, in response to the impact from his unexpected fall to the floor. He is really going to feel that in the morning.

Good.

“I’m sorry,” Hvitserk tells him, and this time Ivar can hear him clearly. He might have ignored him, if not for the fact that he wants Hvitserk to know that his humiliation has been noted.

He shakes his head. “I imagine you are only sorry that your crippled younger brother can overpower you in a fight,” he says.

“No, that’s not… You’ve always been able to do that.” Hvitserk told him, and Ivar smiles, because it was true. “I’m sorry I took your crutch. It wasn’t fair. I just didn’t want you to run away again.”

Ivar allows his lips to quirk into a smile, and he shakes his head. “I have never in my life been able to run away, Hvitserk,” he says.

“You know what I mean.”

He does. And Hvitserk is right; he has been avoiding the subject, not only avoiding the discussion of it, but avoiding thinking about it. He has allowed it to exist in the recesses of his mind, lurking like some monster from legends, appeasing it by occasionally allowing it to drag his thoughts into dark directions, but for the most part dodging and hiding from it.

He has been on the run. And Hvitserk is right; perhaps it is time.

He stops walking and turns to face his brother. He takes a slow, deep, breath and leans heavily on his crutch for support, and when he feels ready, finds Hvitserk’s eyes with his own. “I…” he begins, but words fail him. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know how to begin.

There is no need to say the words out loud; to tell Hvitserk that there is something wrong with his hearing. It would not help, and he is acutely, painfully aware that Hvitserk already knows what is happening. He would not be surprised if everybody in town knew. It must have been obvious to them for months.

“I…” he tries again, and again he is forced to stop. His throat closes, as though to physically force him to keep the thoughts in his head to himself. It would be equally pointless to admit that he is afraid; that sometimes he would wake in the middle of the night to complete silence, and that for a moment he cannot breathe. He cannot tell Hvitserk that at times like that, he speaks to himself simply for the reassurance that he can still hear the sound of his own voice.

Words have always been his power. His mind, and the ability to express the thoughts in his head, to convince others to see things his way, and to bring them around to his way of thinking, are an important part of how he sees himself. If he cannot hear, he does not know how he is supposed to do anything. He does not know how he can be anything.

He feels the hands tightly gripping his crutch begin to tremble as grief threatens to overwhelm him, and he shakes his head, because even if he could bring himself to speak, he can’t think of a single thing to say.

He does not notice that Hvitserk has moved until he feels his brother’s arms around him, holding him tightly, holding him upright and embracing him until the moment of weakness passes. Part of Ivar wants to shake him off, to push him away and insist that he is fine, but he does not, in part because he still does not trust himself to speak, and in part because it feels wonderful, even for a moment, not to feel alone.

He barely even notices when the tears begin to fall, or when the words start to flow from his lips as he tells his brother everything that he has tried not to think about for months. Neither does if fully register when Hvitserk takes his arm and drapes it around his back, supporting him as they slowly walk home together.

Ivar wakes suddenly, pulled to instant alertness by the realisation that he is not alone; somebody is in the room with him. He reaches under his pillow for the knife that he keeps there, and it is not until his fingers close around the reassuring shape of the hilt, that he looks around the room.

Hvitserk is standing over him, with an excited grin on his face, and for a moment, Ivar can’t decide whether to relax because it doesn’t look like his brother is a threat, or to pull out the knife and threaten Hvitserk for having the audacity to creep into his bedchamber as he slept.

Although, he has done the same thing to Hvitserk before, on more than one occasion. So perhaps he will forgive it. Once.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

Even his own voice sounds wrong now, still audible, but different. As though his ears are filled with water that he needs to let out. He resists the urge to raise a hand to his ears and rub at them, to try to clear the obstruction. He knows from experience that it will make no difference. He has not mentioned this new change to Hvitserk, not yet, although he feels as though he probably should.

Hvitserk’s voice, too, sounds altered. Muffled, with certain words partially or completely fading into near-silence. Ivar keeps his gaze trained on his brother’s lips as he replies. It helps, a little, but not much. The worse his hearing grows, the more he realises that he does not know how to read lips.

“There’s somebody I want you to meet,” Hvitserk tells him. He speaks slowly, clearly enunciating his words to ensure that Ivar understands.

Ivar frowns at him. His head and his stomach both feel a little delicate, and although his sober brother might have been up since dawn, Ivar needs a little longer to come back to himself

Hvitserk sits himself down on Ivar’s bed as though it were his own, and Ivar feels his frown morph into a scowl. “Please,” he tells him, “Make yourself comfortable.” Even to his own, failing, ears, his voice drips with sarcasm, but Hvitserk either does not pick up on it, or chooses to ignore it.

“She’s a merchant’s daughter,” he continues. “I met her this ...something... the market when she was helping her father with ...something…” As Hvitserk continues to speak, his words grow quicker and less pronounced, they begin to blur together, and Ivar begins to miss things.

Again, it is something that he should probably mention, but something that he chooses not to. He can fill in the blanks for himself most of the time. He frowns. “I am not looking for a woman at the moment,” he says.

Hvitserk laughs. “You might want to meet her anyway,” he says. “Both of us. We …something… her and her father. Today at noon.”

Ivar watches Hvitserk thoughtfully for a moment. He had missed a little of what his brother had said, but he does not think that it was important. Still, there was something else happening here, something that Hvitserk had neglected to add. He reaches up above his head to clasp the chain that hangs above his bed with a strong hand, and pulls himself into a seated position, then pushes off the furs that cover him, and moves his legs over the edge of the bed to sit next to Hvitserk. “What are you not telling me?” he asks.

Hvitserk smiles knowingly. “She can’t hear,” he says.

Ivar looks at him for a moment, waiting for Hvitserk to say something else, but he does not. He frowns. “And you thought I might like to talk to her about it?” he says. His lips quirk into an approximation of a smile. “There might be a problem with that idea, brother…”

Hvitserk shakes his head. “There isn’t, actually,” he says. “You will see.”

She speaks with her hands.

They both do; father and daughter alike. Ivar watches, fascinated, as the two of them hold a conversation without saying a word. Although he has seen people use gestures to express themselves before, he has never seen anything quite like this. He watches, fascinated, unable to look away. Standing to his side, Hvitserk gives him a quick nudge with his elbow as though to say ‘I told you so’, and grins.

Now he understands why Hvitserk was so eager for him to meet these people. He thinks as he watches, trying to calculate exactly how useful this skill would be to him. After all, he has never seen it before, and so he doubts that he could use it to speak to other people in the town. Perhaps Hvitserk would learn it too, but that would leave him dependent on his brother, and that is something that he does not want.

Hvitserk turns to speak to the older man, whose hands dance before him as he translates the words for his daughter. Hvitserk’s words are carried away on the wind, and Ivar does not catch what is said. He finds himself watching, without comprehension, the movement of the man’s hands. Every subtle move of a finger, the way that his hands come together, the speed and the direction of movement, all appear to carry meaning.

He does not know whether he would even be able to learn it, but to try and to fail might be worse than never to have tried at all.

The woman’s brow furrows into a frown, and she turns to look at him. She is a little younger than him, but old enough that she would almost certainly be married by now, if not for the fact that she could not hear. She looks at him closely, and he looks back, watching as her eyes drift downward, from the braids in his hair, to the blue in his eyes. Her gaze lingers on his face, taking in every line, and every scar as though they are somehow important and worthy of committing to memory. Eventually, she moves her gaze downward, until it settles on the braces he wears on his legs to allow him to stand, and his crutch, which rests underneath his arm.

It feels strange to be so… seen. As though she is not only looking at him, but also through him; seeing everything that he is, and everything that he has ever been. He feels almost naked under the sheer force of her scrutiny, yet it is not an entirely uncomfortable sensation.

Still, he finds himself looking away, unable to meet the clear blue of her eyes.

After a moment she raises her hands, and makes a series of gestures in his direction, punctuated with a nod and a smile.

The old man steps forward. “My daughter says that she is happy to meet you, Ivar the Boneless,” he says. He speaks loudly and precisely enough that Ivar does not miss a thing. “And that if you wish, we would be honoured to teach you and your brother how to speak without words.”

Ivar hesitates. He still does not know whether this is something that he wants to do. He has noticed lately that the deterioration in his hearing has slowed. Perhaps it will stop. Of course, even if it does, he has already lost so much that he has no choice but to recognise that this will be useful, but even then, it will only be useful up to a point.

He glances in Hvitserk’s direction, and it is clear to him that his brother has already decided what they should do. Hvitserk shrugs. “It’s just another language,” he says. “You’ve always been good at them. Lipreading will only get you so far, and you are fairly bad at it.”

“I am not…” Ivar begins, then stops. It occurs to him that he may have given away more about his hearing loss than he had intended, in missed words and misunderstandings. Still, he cannot let that go unrebuked. “You, on the other hand, are terrible at languages,” he says. It is not entirely true, but Hvitserk has never had Ivar’s knack for them. “What use will this… gesture language be to me if you cannot translate for me?”

Hvitserk frowned. “It might be better than nothing,” he said. “Which is what you have now.”

Ivar glanced back at the old man and his daughter. He hated when Hvitserk was right.

“My hearing might not get any worse,” Ivar tries.

But it will. He knows that. Whether he will lose all the sounds around him or not, he does not know. What he does now is that in life, just as in battle, it is better to be prepared for all eventualities, and so while he does not relish the possibility that he may be able to speak with only three people in the whole of Kattegat, he supposes it would be better than none.

Hvitserk turns away from the woman and her father, placing his back to them and his face to Ivar. He speaks, his lips move, but silently, slowly, enunciating clearly. Ivar hears nothing, and suspects that there is in fact no sound to hear. “You are being rude,” Hvitserk tells him.

Ivar rolls his eyes, then reaches out and pushes Hvitserk out of the way so that he can speak to the man. “Fine,” he says. “I will do it.”

“Don’t tell me,” the man says He indicates in his daughter’s direction with a wave of his hand.

Ivar hesitates. He does not know how to speak to the deaf woman.

“Like this,” her father tells him, and begins to make a series of gestures. He moves much more slowly and deliberately than he had when he had spoken to his daughter. After each movement, he pauses, and waits for Ivar to copy.

Ivar grimaces. He props his crutch underneath his arm for balance, and awkwardly repeats the signs with no real understanding of what he is saying, but the girl smiles in response.

Perhaps what her father had told him to say was a little more enthusiastic than the way that Ivar had spoken to him. That may have been for the best, but he did not appreciate words being put into his mouth… or his hands.

And he supposed that that alone was as good a reason as any to learn.

Her name, he learns, is Astrid, although that is not the name that she thinks of as hers. Her name is also a gesture, one created by her father, and which has no literal translation in spoken words. It is a variation on the sign that she taught him means ‘love’, or ‘loved’, and it is the name by which Ivar thinks of her.

Hvitserk had been wrong, or perhaps just overly optimistic, when he had said that the language of gestures would be just like any other language. It is not. He cannot call upon similar words from his own tongue, or from others that he has picked up along the way. He cannot listen for similarities in the sounds, or shared meanings between words based in shared older languages, and allow his mind to make connections that fix the new vocabulary into his memory. Instead, he feels like a young child, discovering language for the first time, and being taught the most basic ways to express himself.

It is slow, and frustrating, and there are times when he feels so angry that he wants to scream, but as time passes, and more of the language falls into place, it is also wonderful.

Ivar signs clumsily at first. They rely on on her father to translate each new word into spoken language, or back again, but as time goes on, he realises that they no longer need a translator, and that he and Astrid can communicate alone, with her explaining the meaning behind the words that he does not know, using those that he does.

The language is not enough for him, though. It is incomplete. Although it serves its purpose; allows communication without spoken words, it does little else. There is no room for subtleties or for the clever wordplays that he has always enjoyed. There are words, and sometimes entire subjects for which she has no translation; words for which a merchant and his daughter would have had no use.

Ivar makes it his mission to find them, and to eliminate them, and so he spends weeks explaining words and concepts to her using his basic knowledge of her language, improving a little every day, as he seeks out blank spots which he can fill. Together, Ivar and Hvitserk begin to create new words, and Ivar takes great pleasure in becoming the teacher for a moment. She laughs, and occasionally blushes, as he clumsily explains words which a father and daughter would have no need to say to one another.

He loves the sound of her laugh.

When they are done with their lessons each day, they walk together through the streets of Kattegat, or sit together and speak without words. Sometimes, Ivar helps on her father’s market stall, and he feels no shame for working at what he would once have considered such a lowly task.

As his knowledge and understanding of the new language grows, conversation flows more easily between them. They no longer need to stop every few words for an explanation or a reminder of the meaning of a sign, and Ivar’s confidence to express himself increases. There are times when it feels easier to speak with his hands than it ever did to use his voice. He finds himself discussing things that he has rarely spoken of to anybody before, even Hvitserk.

He tells her about the deaths of his parents, so close together that he barely had the time to process one loss before he was hit with a second. He speaks about the pain he feels in his legs every day, and how walking makes it so much worse, but how he does not care, and he will not stop. He tells her, with hands clumsy with emotion now, rather than inexperience, about the guilt he carries with him for the things that he has done, and the people that he has hurt. He tells her about the child that he left behind in Rus, and how he wishes more than anything that one day he will see him.

She responds in kind. She tells him about her mother, who died giving birth to her younger brother, who did not survive. She speaks of the loneliness that she felt growing up, and even as an adult, because until she had met him, she had nobody but her father that she could speak to. She tells him how she had lived in fear of the day that he would die, leaving her completely alone.

Ivar holds her then, and promises her that she will never be alone again, and he means it.

His hearing deteriorates further, as he had known that it would, but it slows, and sounds do not abandon him completely. Not yet. He does not know whether it is a temporary reprieve and that it will begin to fade again one day, or whether the gods have chosen to spare him the silence. He finds, to his surprise, that he does not mind either way. He appreciates the fact that spoken words are not lost to him, but the idea of silence no longer frightens him as it once did.

He waits to see what the gods have in store for him.

When he and Hvitserk speak now, it is often in a combination of gestures and spoken words. Words fill the gaps for which they have no sign, and Ivar remembers each one to ask her about later, or to come up with one of his own. Spoken words, too, are used for him to practise lipreading; he does not wish to lose his ability to understand. He does not wish to have to rely on anybody but himself.

One afternoon, as the sun sets, Ivar and Hvitserk sit together, watching the loading and unloading of ships. Ivar can no longer hear the gentle sound of the water hitting the sides of the ships, but the noise of the loading and unloading is clear even from a distance, as is the occasional shouted word or command from a captain trying to get his ship ready to leave.

As Ivar stares out over the dark blue water of the fjord as it reflects the evening sky, Hvitserk nudges him gently with an elbow to get his attention. When Ivar turns to look at him, his brother is smiling widely.

Ivar gives him a questioning gesture. “What?” he says out loud, at the same time.

Hvitserk’s smile grows wider still. “I was just thinking,” he tells him. Speaking only with his hands, “about how reluctant you were to learn this. Now look at you.”

Ivar frowns. “What are you talking about, Hvitserk?” he asks. He speaks with his voice, but feels his hands making the appropriate gestures as he does. Force of habit, he supposes.

“You’re happy,” Hvitserk tells him. “You were sitting there, staring out to sea, smiling… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so…” he pauses, then switches to a spoken word. “So content.”

Ivar nods, partly to concede that Hvitserk is right, and also to agree that he has no sign for that word, and that he needs one. ‘Happy’, is the closest one that he knows, but contentment is different. It is a sense of completeness too, and happiness falls short in comparison. Whatever it is that he feels, he likes it. It is something he has been searching for his entire life.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me,” he says.

Hvitserk laughs, and nods his head. “I know you are,” he says. “I was wondering when you were going to figure it out.”

The sound of the baby’s cry breaks through the silence of the bedchamber and Ivar, well tuned to the sound of his son’s cries, comes to instant alertness. The room is lit by an oil lamp that they leave burning throughout the night; a concession to the fact that it is difficult to talk with one's hands when it is too dark to see.

Ivar props himself up onto his elbows to allow him to peer into the crib at the end of the bed, where his son lays. Seeing his father looking at him, the baby’s cries increase in volume, and he raises chubby, milk-fed arms in his direction.

Ivar smiles. “Why are you making so much noise?” he asks. “If I can hear you this much, you will wake the whole city.”

The baby stares at him imploringly, and Ivar sighs. He reaches for the chain that hangs above his bed, and uses it to pull himself into a seated position. “I am coming, you will need to be patient,” he tells him. “I am not as quick as your mother.”

Next to him, his wife stirs slightly, disturbed, no doubt, by the movement of the bed. Ivar pushes off the furs that cover them for warmth, and moves himself to the foot of the bed. The baby waits impatiently, but his cries fade as he watches his father make his way slowly to a safe position to lift him from the crib.

Ivar’s fingertips gently brush his son’s cheek, marvelling at the smoothness of the skin, before he scoops him out of the crib and cradles him in his arms. “There, see? Now you are quiet. Whatever it was that was bothering you, it cannot have been so bad, can it?” he whispers. He rocks his son gently back and forth, humming a song that he remembers his mother singing to him once. He can barely hear himself, but the sound, or perhaps the vibrations in his chest, soothe the baby, and after a few moments, his son’s eyes begin to close.

Behind him, he feels his wife still stirring. He turns to see at her as she rolls over, then sits up to look at the two of them. She smiles and pulls sleepy hands from underneath the furs to ask if everything is okay.

Ivar nods. He signs awkwardly, relying on one hand more than the other, around their sleeping son, to tell her that everything is perfect. Then, moving slowly and carefully so as not to disturb him again, he places the baby back into the crib, then moves himself back up the bed and underneath the furs.

His wife edges a little closer to him, pressing her body against his underneath the covers, and closes her eyes again. On her lips she wears a contented smile, and Ivar knows exactly how she feels.

He feels exactly the same way.

#vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson #ivar/oc

34 notes · View notes

sunseteyes · 3 years

Text

FLUFFVEMBER DAY 04: TANJIRO KAMADO

—prompt: sick (tags are by @jojosmilktea)

word count: 928 words | theme/s: domestic fluff period.

tags: @kacchanori @chickynn @todominica @sparkleswritings @giyuus-wife (send a dm or ask if you want to be added!)

rv: hello! i’m really thankful that people are supporting my fluffvember(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ this is my first ever everyday event lmao i honestly haven’t finished everything yet but i will try to do my best!! enjoy reading!

✒︎ remedy

"you should rest for awhile, (y/n)."

tanjiro's gentle voice lulled you further to sleep, your head spinning and your body continuing to shiver despite the sweat that accumulates on your skin. unfortunately, you were caught by a cold due to staying under the rain for far too long the other day. you were training by yourself that you failed to realize that you had been there for hours long. after all, you were meditating and when you did, no one really was around you at that time to tell you off since tanjiro and the others were out on a mission.

the first who had gotten back was zenitsu, but he was already too late for you were already burning up with a fever by that moment. the poor boy panicked the minute he realized that you were sick and instantly sent chintarou to go and tell tanjiro, rambling how the other boy would get mad at him for "endangering your safety".

when tanjiro and nezuko came, your fever was still there and tanjiro took over of your care since zenitsu has no idea how to do it properly.

"you should have let shinobu-san check up on you." tanjiro says the moment he saw you, but he never mentioned it again when you said you didn't want to bother the insect pillar with just a simple cold.

tanjiro accepted your reasoning but he didn't took your sickness lightly. he was always there when you open your eyes, nezuko too. often would you feel nezuko holding your hand on the other side as to where tanjiro would sit. she would stay quiet as usual but you could see and feel her care for you, burning like how tanjiro's would.

minutes and hours passes by in a haze as you stayed on bed, the mist in your brain causing you to always fall asleep as if you were sleep deprived.

"i think you overworked yourself, (y/n)." came tanjiro's gentle voice, his eyes being the second thing you noticed as you look over at his face. he always had such a striking pair of orbs, displaying whatever emotions he feels in his every reaction or expression. sometimes, you couldn't help but stare at them without thinking about anything else around you. and this is one of those times.

"yeah, i think i did." i say, feeling dazed as you only focused on his irises. you could see the worry in them, read them like how you could of a scroll. you spend days studying but you could only spend seconds when you look at tanjiro's eyes.

that's how much he's readable enough for you.

"but don't worry, me, nezuko and zenitsu are here for you." he smile reassuringly, a warmth that was far from your sickness spreads by your chest when you saw how his lips slowly curved up, a much burning feeling rising up by your neck and cheeks, probably causing you to accumulate a blush that you wished was not recognizable for him.

his knuckles brushes up to the sides of your face, smooth and gentle, like an ocean wave from afar.

"you're still burning up," he says, "do you want to go breathe some fresh air outside? i can help you." he offers, and you nodded in response. although before you could react further, his arms slid by your back and the back of your knees, finding yourself being carried with a grunt from tanjiro.

"tan—i'm heavy! don't-"

"no, it's fine." he gives you another smile, one that you could tell just by his eyes. "see? i could carry you." he was not telling a lie. after all the training, maybe carrying your sickly body was not much of a difficulty now. but you couldn't help but still worry.

he later walks with you on his arms. leading the way towards the foyer. you thought he was going to bring you down but he held you in place still, looking up at the clear sky above while breathing freely.

you imitated him and your mind cleared up in an instant, the oxygen that you took in refreshing the insides of your body. another breeze of air passes by your forms and you relished on the fact that the haze inside of your mind slowly vanishes and the muscles by your shoulders relaxes. despite still feeling that sickness in your body, never leaving still, you could tell that your energy was being restored somehow.

you didn't realized that your eyes closed in the process of being at one with nature at that moment. yet when you opened them once again, you made eye contact with tanjiro, boring into your tired ones.

"how was it? did it help?"

you nodded, "it did. thank you."

and when he tilts his head, his hair waving slightly at the movement, you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks but you could barely have anytime to hide it because you were mesmerized again.

"why are you doing this? why are you taking care of me?"

he leans in to brush a kiss by the hairline above your forehead, his breath slightly tingling your skin in the process.

"why wouldn't i?"

a genuine smile fitted its way across your face as you leaned your head on his warm chest, splattering its way to yours. and there, surrounded by nature, you were engulfed with a peace inside of tanjiro's arms. hopefully. you'd be well sooner or later because you were almost certain that tanjiro is your remedy, no matter what it is.

#tanjiro kamado #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro oneshot #tanjiro fluff #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny fluff #demon slayer #fluffvember #fluffvember 2020

223 notes · View notes

lost-in-the-80s · 3 years

Text

Winter Memories

Pairing: Axl Rose x reader

Words: 3,808k

Summary: The pressure of making a new album is finally hitting Axl. To get rid of some stress he decides to take a trip to Norway, however, he did not expect to meet a mysterious woman there. (smut + angst)

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you like it! Tell me if you want a part 2! There will be a few lines in norwegian, but the translations will be below in italics ;)

Warnings: Mature content, swearing and unprotected sex. (Use a condom, guys!)

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @normatural add yourself to my tag list :)

Part 2

It had been a busy week and Axl's frustration was reaching extremely high levels.

Making an album was not an easy task, it required a lot of work and dedication, especially when the bandleader was Axl. Known for being a perfectionist, Axl expected nothing less than perfection for the band's third and fourth albums.

He understood why his bandmates were so tired, Axl had made them redo each song countless times and that was exhausting, but it was even more exhausting for him, who stayed in the studio for hours after his friends left, doing the vocals as many times as he could.

Axl realized he needed to relax when he ended up taking all his anger out on the supermarket attendant last week. She hadn't done anything much, just asked for an autograph, but the stress accumulated in his body made him be rude to her.

That night he decided that he needed time away from it all, that he needed time just for him so he could calm down.

It was December and the clear California sun was starting to get paler, accompanied by a cold breeze coming in the late afternoon. But he knew it wouldn't get much colder, after all, Los Angeles was one of the hottest cities in the United States.

Furthermore, he would not find peace in such a busy place. The chances of someone showing up at his door out of nowhere or calling insisting for him to go out were too high to risk.

Following the advice of a friend, Axl decided to go north, to Norway, more precisely. He wanted to see the snow again, wanted to feel the cold winter wind and visit a place he had never been to before.

After notifying the band and advancing some things in the studio, he left. Catching a plane on Friday afternoon, lusting to reach a small isolated town in the center of the country in the morning.

His assistant had managed to rent a room in a small, comfortable cottage near a mountain, where he could learn to ski.

After spending countless hours on the flight and two more hours driving a rental car to the place, he finally arrived.

The view was incredible, the contrast of the snow on the ground and the blue of the sky baffled him.

Entering the reception of the cottage, Axl was greeted by an old lady, who took him to his room while telling him about how the cottage had been built by her grandparents and that the house used to creak with the wind at night.

His room was very spacious, the walls and floor were the same types of wood, in the center of the room, there was a double bed with white sheets and a thick red plaid blanket. In front of the bed was a large fireplace, already lit by someone from the cottage.

The bathroom was on the left, next to the entrance door, it was small, but it had a large bathtub and the lady had assured him that the water was very hot. To his right was a large glass window that overlooked a vast field of snow-covered pines and a large mountain in the background. There was a small sofa under the window, accompanied by a small wooden table, the same color as the bedside tables.

It was different from what he was used to, but he liked the location.

After leaving his bags in the room and putting on another blouse, Axl decided to go down to the cottage's dining room for breakfast. Taking a large cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, he sat down at a table in the far corner, next to a window.

He hugged the cup with his hands, hoping the act would warm them up. He heard footsteps on the stairs and it was at that moment that he saw her coming. She was beautiful as an angel, her eyes looked like a cat's, which told him she was unpredictable, but her smile was sweet when she greeted the owner of the place.

"God morgen, Anna!" She waved to the lady.

"Good morning, Anna!"

“God morgen, Y/N! Du våknet endelig!”

“Good morning, Y/N! At least you woke up”

She laughed and Axl felt like he was in a trance. He didn't understand what she said, so he assumed she was a local.

Sensing his gaze, she finally looked in his direction. Her expression changed, the sweet smile disappeared and her eyes began to transmit lust. She looked him up and down before picking up her breakfast and sitting at a table.

Axl ate, but every little bit he found himself looking in her direction, only to realize that she was already looking at him, like a predator looking at the victim.

After eating, Axl got in his car and drove towards the mountain ski station, putting on the right clothes and getting a ski board, an instructor taught Axl the basic moves and instructed him to stay in a specific area, where the beginners stayed.

After a good 30 minutes, Axl realized that perhaps skiing was not his thing. He fell numerous times and was unable to move properly on the board. Irritation started to form inside his body and when he was about to damn everything to hell and go back to the cottage, he heard her voice near him.

"Flytt deg!"

"Get out of the way!"

He looked back just in time to see that she was approaching him at high speed, trying to get out of her way as fast as possible, Axl tripped on his own feet and ended up landing face first in the snow.

He heard her laugh again and when he noticed a small hand covered by a glove was being extended towards him. Axl looked up and saw her face, she was still laughing.

Accepting the offer, she helped Axl to get up again.

"Unnskyldning." She gave a small smile, trying to contain her laughter.

"I’m sorry."

"What?" Axl frowned, trying to understand what she had said.

"Ah, sorry, I thought you were from here!" Her accent made Axl smile, he found the sound cute.

"Well, I'm not."

"I am, Y/N, by the way." She offered her hand for him to greet her.

"Axl!" He shook her hand.

"I liked your name! Is this your first time here? ”

"It actually is." He scratched the back of his neck.

“I live in Oslo, but I come here every year at this time. It's nice to relax. ”

"I hope so!" He gave her a small smile.

"Having trouble skiing?"

"To tell the truth, yes."

"Do you want me to teach you?"

"Would you do it?"

"Sure, what kind of Norwegian would I be if I saw someone here without enjoying the best part of winter?"

He smiled at her.

For the next few hours, Y/N taught Axl as best as she could, always encouraging him not to give up whenever he fell or fell out of balance.

When Axl finally came down a small part of the mountain without difficulty, she clapped her hands and shouted at him, celebrating his victory.

"Now nobody else can say that you are a tourist." She laughed, making him smile.

We should go back to the cottage, it's almost three o'clock, it's going to get dark soon.

"Is it getting dark so early in here?"

"It's December baby, from now on the days will get shorter and shorter."

The nickname made him smile again.

"Are you driving?" He asked when they were returning the clothes and equipment to the company.

“No, I came by bus. I don't trust the roads much at this time of year. ”

"Do you want a ride to the cottage?"

"It would be great!"

In the first few minutes, an awkward silence came over the car, to break the mood, Y/N turned on the car's radio and turned up the volume when A-Ha started playing.

Axl glanced at her. "Do you listen to this shit?"

"They are Norwegian, we are crazy about them." She laughed, thinking about it. It was funny with her people, they had a habit of liking anything that was national.

He shook his head, but let a small smile take over his lips.

"I like your hair!" She said, staring at him.

"Thank you, I think!"

“No, seriously, I really like it. I think the color is beautiful. ”

"Thank you very much then."

He looked at her and his eyes met hers. A shiver went down his spine and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe for a moment, so he focused on the road again.

After a few minutes, he decided to start a conversation.

"What do you normally do here when you're not skiing?"

“I drink hot chocolate, read and go for a short walk in the city. They have some cool stores here. ” She shrugged.

He nodded in response.

After arriving at the cottage, the two agreed to go down to have hot chocolate together in half an hour.

Axl took a hot shower, letting his muscles relax with the warmth of the water. He contemplated shaving but changed his mind after thinking it over. His beard was slightly long, red hair adorned his face.

Down the stairs he saw her sitting on a couch, wearing a pair of black leggings and a red sweatshirt, her hair was tied up in a bun and she was using a pair of slipper boots.

"You Americans are always late." She noted when Axl sat down next to her.

"Sorry."

She gestured with her hand, as if to inform him that it was okay. "I already ordered the hot chocolate, Anna was supposed to bring it after you arrived."

He nodded in agreement.

"So, what do you work with?" He wanted to know more about her.

"I'm a lawyer. I deal with divorces. What about you?"

"I work with music."

"What kind of music?"

"Rock."

"Nice!"

Anna arrived with two large mugs, interrupting the conversation.

"Takk, Anna!" Y/N smiled sweetly at the woman.

"Thank you, Anna!"

"Thanks." He picked up his mug carefully, as he knew it would be hot.

"No problem." She smiled back at them both.

The two stayed there for over an hour talking, finding out more about each other.

Axl couldn't say why, but he felt comfortable around her, almost as if they knew each other for decades. He could tell that she felt the same way because after a few minutes she put her legs on his lap.

"You were right, her hot chocolate is delicious." Axl said after taking the second mug that night.

"I told you!" She smiled proudly.

Getting closer to him, she whispered in his ear. "I'm going up to my room now, if you want to stop by later, I'm in room 22." She rested her hand on his chest.

He looked into her eyes, they were both close enough to kiss, but there was a family with two children in the room, so he decided not to.

Nodding his head at her, Axl kept his gaze fixed on her back when she got up and went upstairs, leaving him alone.

The simple image of what he could do with her later made his member throb with anticipation. And he decided that after it was late he would knock on her door.

Returning to his room he realized that her room was two doors from his, on the same side of the corridor.

He tried to entertain himself at night, he went down to dinner and then tried to read a book he had brought, but he couldn't focus on reading, his imagination was running wild and all he could think about was her.

Glancing at the clock in his room, he saw that it was just after nine.

"Fuck it!" Getting up and locking his door as he left the room, he walked in quick steps to room 22, knocking three times on the door and waiting for her to open.

When she opened it, Axl's member pulsed again. She was wearing a black wool sweater three times the size of her, covering up to half of her thighs. Her hair was still tied up in a bun.

Before she could say anything, his lips crashed against hers, hugging her waist with one of his arms and pushing her slightly into the room, closing the door with his free hand.

She responded on the spot, her arms circling his neck while her tongue asked for permission to invade his mouth.

Allowing the intrusion, their tongues began to move as if in an aggressive ballet, fighting for dominance. She moved one of her hands to Axl's hair, lightly pulling the strands at the top of his neck, causing a low growl to leave his throat.

Her hands started to remove Axl's jacket, who broke the kiss for a second to remove his white shirt as well.

She admired the muscles in his abdomen, biting her bottom lip with desire.

Axl pulled her close by her hips, letting his hands find her butt cheeks and squeeze them tightly, making a small moan leave her lips.

He brought his right hand to her hair, removing the elastic that held her strands and letting her hair cover part of her face. Axl guided her to the bed, stopping when her legs hit the furniture slightly, creating a distance between them and removing her sweater, revealing the black lace lingerie she wore.

His member started to stiffen. Letting her fall on the soft mattress, Axl stayed on top of her, dropping his kisses to her neck, where he left light bites that would surely leave marks. She sighed like an angel when Axl lowered his kisses further, making a trail between her neck and the bar of her panties, taking off her bra in the process.

He propped her two legs up on the bed, kissing her right thigh, higher and higher, letting his beard run lightly over her skin and watching her sigh with the contact.

His cold fingers touched her skin, slowly pulling her panties down, making her shiver at the touch.

She leaned on her forearms, watching Axl closely.

Axl approached the center of her, licking her folds before spreading her legs further, granting him more access. His tongue started to make circular movements on her clit, at first they were slow and calm, but after a while, they started to get stronger and more accurate.

She grabbed the covers with her fingers, letting her head fall on the bed again allowing small moans to leave her lips.

"Axl" She whispered his name.

Seeing this as an incentive, Axl slowly penetrated one of his fingers into her, while his other hand came up and squeezed her breast firmly, causing a loud moan to come out of her throat.

After a few minutes, Axl inserted a second finger, curving them and reaching a different point inside her that made her moan louder.

"Right there!" She said between moans.

Axl started to feel her walls tightening, giving a sign that she was close, he applied more pressure to her clit, making faster movements with his tongue.

At that point she was already a mess, her left hand tightly gripped the cover under her, while her right hand was in Axl's hair, pulling his strands lightly and whimpering with pleasure.

He hit her point a few more times and was static when he saw her legs shaking slightly while a loud moan accompanied by a strong tug on his hair told him that she had reached her climax.

After receiving all the juices she had given him, Axl lifted his kisses, stopping at the level of her right breast, where he sucked with ease, lightly biting her nipple while watching the long, heavy breathes come out of her lips.

Going up a little further, he captured her lips in a hot, ravenous kiss. Her hands began to entertain with the buttons on his pants, telling him that she wanted him to get rid of them.

Breaking the kiss Axl removed his pants and underwear at the same time, freeing his already hard and completely erect member.

She licked her lips with desire, watching him as he stroked himself while walking towards her.

"Are you going to be a good girl and take everything?"

She nodded and he pushed her by the shoulders on the bed before pulling her closer to him by her legs.

He climbed on the bed and used his left hand to support himself, while his right hand guided his member to collect some of her juices. Axl moved his cock slowly over her clit, making her moan softly.

Slowly, he began to penetrate her, pausing for a moment when it came to an end, waiting for her to adjust to his size. The pressure created by his dick against her tight walls made them both moan in unison before they shared a lush kiss.

Moving slowly, he started to get in and out of her. His eyes locked with hers as the room seemed to get ten degrees warmer. Her hands tightened on his biceps tightly as he leaned down to kiss her again.

“Fuck, you look so hot taking my cock inside of you.” He groaned.

After a few minutes, Axl's thrusts became stronger and faster and Y/N's moans got louder and louder. She murmured things in her native language that Axl was unable to understand as her nails scratched the skin on his back, making him grunt and bite her neck hard.

"I think…. I’m going to…." She managed to utter between moans.

"I know baby, cum for me!" Axl ordered in her ear, making her even more excited than before.

She let out a loud moan, before shouting his name, reaching her climax. Her eyes rolled and her mouth was open, her mind was blank and an orgasm twice as strong as the first took over her body.

The image was a work of art in Axl's eyes. When she said his name again, this time lower, almost like a plea, he could no longer contain himself, reaching his own climax and pouring his liquids into her while letting out a loud grunt.

He collapsed on top of her and she hugged his waist with her legs while removing some strands of his hair from his face.

The two let the last moans leave their bodies, low and disconnected, due to sensitivity.

Axl stood up and slowly withdrew his member from inside her, watching their mixed liquids leave her body. His member shook with pleasure, but he could tell that she was too tired for another round.

After cleaning her, the two fell asleep in bed, Axl wrapped Y/N in his arms and admired her in the light of the fireplace when she slept. He didn't want to leave tomorrow, he wanted to have more time with her.

----

The next morning Axl woke up and the bed was empty. Sitting up quickly, he realized that she was sitting by the window, smoking a cigarette.

"I thought you were gone." He said as he approached, wearing nothing but his underwear.

She was wearing the same sweater as last night.

"Your smell is on my sweater." She said casually.

"Good to know!" He leaned down to kiss her lips again.

She didn't want to kiss him, she knew she was already too involved. He was from another country and the two would probably never see each other again. But there was something about him that made it impossible for her to resist.

One of her hands touched his face lightly, caressing him.

"Last night was incredible!" He sat across from her, lighting a cigarette for himself.

She nodded slowly while looking through the window.

"What's it? Did I do something?"

"No, it's just ... I'm leaving today." She didn't look at him.

"Yeah, me too!"

She looked at him and felt her eyes well up with tears, but she was not going to allow herself to cry. She had just met him, it was ridiculous to feel that way.

"Do you think we could exchange our numbers?"

“I don't think it's a good idea! You live on the other side of the world, it’s not good to feed that kind of thing. ”

He felt a tightening in his heart, but he understood what she meant.

"Yeah, you must be right."

He looked at the bedroom’s watch and realized it was close to ten. The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, its timid rays illuminating the room.

"I have to get to Bergen by one."

"You should go then, or you'll be late!"

"Yeah, I should."

They looked at each other for almost a minute. Their looks saying what their mouths lacked courage.

Axl leaned over and kissed her one last time, his hands pulling her closer until she was on his lap, while her hands played with his hair.

They tried to keep the kiss as long as they could, knowing that when they separated, Axl would have to leave. But the oxygen came to an end and they had to separate.

Both stood looking at each other for several seconds, trying to record every detail of the other's face in their memories.

She got up and allowed him to do the same.

Axl put on his clothes and started walking towards the door, stopping before opening it. "Am I going to see you before I leave?"

"I think not."

He nodded and left, heading for his room.

She sighed, pulling the sweater close to her nose and taking in his scent.

----

Later that morning, Y/N saw Axl leaving the cottage and storing his suitcase in a black car.

A sense of sadness took over the body, but she couldn't say why. It was impossible for her to love him, wasn't it? After all, they had only known each other for a day.

Axl turned towards her window and saw her sitting in the same place as before. He waved at her and waited for her to return the gesture before he got in the car and left.

When he left the place he couldn't help feeling that he had left something very important behind. He knew what it was. It was her. But she was right, it would be fruitless to feed something like that.

Watching the car leave, Y/N touched the window and waited until the car was out of sight.

A single tear fell from her eyes. "Hvis det er ham, vil skjebnen få oss til å møtes igjen."

"If it's him, fate will make us meet again."

#axl rose #axl rose fanfic #axl rose smut #axl rose fic #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fic #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses x reader #gnr #classic rock imagine #harley writes

113 notes · View notes

miniature-space-hamster · 3 years

Text

Wrote a fic that was a byproduct of me trying to figure out how Kaidan and Karina Shepard had their first kiss. It got a little spicier than I originally intended. This takes place before the rest of my “Soft Place to Land” fics. Anyway, hope you enjoy.~

Shepard cursed to herself as her eyes darted from screen to screen on her omnitool, trying to find a solution. Nothing seemed to be physically wrong with Mako, but the vehicle had lost all communications. Even the sensors were failing her, and she was beginning to lose her patience. Kaidan laid outside the Mako, almost entirely under the vehicle, trying to look for any possible damage underneath. He’d never say it out loud, but with the way Shepard drove this thing, he was half expecting to find a large rock lodged in the vehicle, but there was nothing. He grumbled to himself before pulling himself up, and leaning against the Mako as he poked his head through the doorway, towards Shepard. “It’s all fine down here. I don’t know what happened.” He paused for a moment, kicking the dirt slightly as he watched the growing winds whisk away the dust cloud that formed at his feet. “Wish Tali was here. She’d probably know what to do.”

Shepard looked up at the ceiling of the Mako to stretch her aching neck, they’ve been at this for nearly an hour with no luck. “Same, but we couldn’t risk it with the suit rupture.” It was just a pin prick moments before departure, but Shepard sent her to the medbay immediately before she got a severe infection. Shepard considered asking another teammate to come, but it was such a minor task and she didn’t want to postpone scanning the planet for necessary resources any further. She knew the two of them would be fine. They were supposed to be fine. But now she definitely missed the Quarian’s expertise.

Shepard smacked the dashboard of the Mako in equal parts irritation and last ditch effort to try anything. Kaidan jumped slightly at the sudden sound. Shepard was always quiet, sometimes almost unnervingly so at times that he half expected the motion to not make a noise. But, to both of their surprise, the dashboard came to life, bathing her in its golden glow.

“Are you reading me, commander?” Joker's voice was nearly inaudible against the overwhelming amount of interference. It sounded like he's been trying to contact them for a while now. From what she could make out, his voice sounded strained with desperation. He needed a sign that they were okay.

“Barely, we’re having some trouble with the Mako.” Shepard grumbled into the microphone, trying to use her omnitool to sharpen the signal, but it didn’t help much.

“There’s a storm coming. A bad one. We won’t be able to pick you up in the middle of it. You’ll need to sit tight until it’s over.” The irritation was evident in Joker’s voice. If they had a window for rescue, it seemed that it had long since passed.

Shepard gave Kaidan a look, seeing the wind whipping the stray hairs that fell down to his brow. She tried to hide the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was near pitch black darkness on the horizon that blocked out the setting sun, and it was approaching at an alarming speed. Kaidan gave her a nod in understanding, they needed to move quickly. “There’s a cave not far from here. We can park the Mako there for shelter. “

Shepard nodded as Kaidan hopped into the passenger seat without hesitation, providing directions. She could feel the wind trying to rip control of the Mako from her grip. She found herself constantly having to overcorrect the wheel just to keep the vehicle moving straight. She kept her fingers off the boosters, for fear of flipping the vehicle. Her knuckles were white and her hands were shaking by the time they were in the cave.

The vehicle lurched in protest as she hit the brakes a bit too hard, too eager to take her hands off the wheel. Shepard craned her neck to get a look at the cave’s ceiling, wondering how much she trusted it’s stability. It felt weirdly claustrophobic having such a big machine nestled in a cavern this size. It was a tight squeeze. They'd have difficulty getting out on either side, but they were free from the wind and what sounded like hail.

Shepard looked to Kaidan with a somewhat sheepish grin, feeling somewhat responsible for their predicament. She found herself mentally going back through the calculations and reports in her mind, trying to find out where she went wrong. This wasn’t in her reports of the planet.

“Well, I guess we better get comfortable.” There was a sigh in her voice as she took off her helmet and untied her hair. She let her hair fall naturally with a slight shake of her head.

She met Kaidan’s eyes and she couldn’t tell over the darkness of the cave, but she could’ve sworn she saw him blush. He cleared his throat and looked away for a moment before pulling up a box that rested by his feet onto his lap.

Shepard saw the shine of the dashboard against his teeth as he gave her a slight smile before reaching in and handing her something. She took the item, unsure of what was in her hands for a moment, before realizing it was a sandwich. “I, uh, noticed you didn’t get a chance to eat before we left..” he seemed unusually bashful as he placed a hand on his neck.

She looked at the sandwich, and again at Kaidan. She tried to figure out when he had the time to do all this. She completely forgot to eat today. She didn’t have the time to have more than a cup of instant coffee, and even then it went cold before she took her first sip. It felt like the work Hackett sent her was never ending.

She gave Kaidan a nervous smile as a silent thanks, finding herself at a loss of words as heat rose on her ears and neck. Kaidan continued to pull out two beer bottles before untwisting a top and passing one to her. “Before you say anything, technically our shift ended an hour ago.” He gave her a sly grin that she couldn’t help but match as she took a bottle.

“Well, we might be stuck here for the night...” Her voice was wary as she pressed the cold glass bottle to her lips. She was never one to lax on regulations, but after today she needed a drink. Despite nothing going right today, she couldn’t help but be thankful for the choice in company.

She took a bite of her sandwich, unable to remember the last time she had something that wasn’t prepackaged and in the form of an energy bar. With her hunger finally catching up to her, in this moment it was the best thing she’d ever eaten. She looked at Kaidan, seeing the golden light of the dashboard reflect the warm, bronze flecks in his eyes. “Thank you…” She looked away quickly afraid she’d get lost in the depths of his eyes.

Kaidan held back a smile, as he pulled out a sandwich for himself. He noticed how her features softened as she ate. She finally stopped clenching her jaw as she took a moment to accept their new situation. This was about as relaxed as he’s ever seen her, on or off duty. He felt like these were the moments when he got to see the real Shepard. She was so sure of herself on the battlefield, but in moments like this she let herself be vulnerable. It was a word he never would’ve normally associated with the great Commander Shepard before getting to know her.

Shepard expected to feel a nervous tension rising in her chest. It’s only been two days since they both admitted to maybe feeling something for one another, though neither were quite sure what it was yet. Kaidan suggested seeing where things would go if they went out during shore leave. Despite these mutual feelings, she still found Kaidan easy to be around. Shepard struggled to open up and connect with others at times, being as painfully introverted as she was, but Kaidan never forced herself to be someone she wasn’t. He was content to be near her, even if she didn’t have anything to say at the moment. She never felt pressured by his presence to put on her usual facade of commander.

After finishing her sandwich, her hunger sated. She felt her mind shift to other needs. Shepard shivered violently, feeling the storm’s chill enter her bones. The nights on this planet often dipped below freezing. She heard the rattle of her armor, feeling another violent wave fill her body. She noticed Kaidan was rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Cold?” She asked, already knowing the answer. She paused for a moment as she climbed into the back of the Mako. There was an emergency blanket, but only one. She held it up for him to see. It felt thin, but it was better than nothing. “We’ll have to share.”

Kaidan quietly followed her to the backseat, trying to hold back his grin. There was more leg room here, without any bulky tech to get in the way. They both stripped themselves of their outer armor, letting their chest plates and gauntlets litter the floor, leaving on the more comfortable inner layer.

Kaidan was the first to sit, finally feeling the strain of the day cause his muscles to ache. He stretched his legs as he slouched to get comfortable. He rested an arm on the back of the seat, inviting Shepard to sit next to him. She first took a cautious seat before curling up beside him, realizing that they’ve never touched like this before. Was he always this warm?

Besides the time she pulled him away from the beacon, she’s never touched him at all. But even in that moment she only thought about his safety, not how it felt to be curled up next to him. She found that her desire for warmth overcame her sense of modesty as Kaidan wrapped them both in the blanket.

She twisted herself closer as she felt her body shiver violently. She rested her legs on top of his as Kaidan wrapped his arms around her. His warmth quickly filled her body as she leaned in his direction, pressing their bodies flush. She tried to tell herself that this was solely for warmth, and it was, but she so desperately wanted to explore his body with her hands.

She tried to speak, about anything to pull her thoughts away from the body pressed against her own, but any and all words were trapped in her throat as a flush rose on her face. She tried to wash down the heat in her face with what remained on the beer. Kaidan was usually the one to speak, and Shepard would listen, but he too was silent in this moment as he watched her trying to gauge her reaction to their close contact.

Shepard met his eyes, nearly black in the darkness, but still warm nonetheless. Her eyes trailed down to his lips, wanting desperately to know what they felt like, before her eyes yet again met his. She didn't want to yearn for him like this, reminding herself that he was her staff lieutenant. Her pulse quickened as she reached for his face, nervous she was taking things too far. Her hand softly grazed his stubble and rested at his jaw. In the near pitch dark she caught herself focusing on the softness of his skin.

Kaidan’s eyes widened, but so did his smile. He let a hand gently trail up her neck, resting at the base of her skull. He applied the slightest gentle pressure as he stroked her scalp, without pulling her in, as he invited her to come closer if she wanted. He was fully prepared for rejection, they were after all in an emergency situation.

Before Kaidan even realized it, her lips locked with his own. There was a moment of tender uncertainty as they tried to find one another’s rhythm. They settled for a slow pace, as they gently explored the expanse of one another’s lips. Shepard liked the way Kaidan’s lips felt on her own, tasting the beer on his breath. He felt almost electric as she gently bit down on his lower lip. The smell of element zero filled her lungs and made her head feel fuzzy. It was unfamiliar to her, but pleasant nonetheless.

Shepard let her free hand dance on Kaidan’s torso, before resting behind a shoulder blade, trying to pull him in closer than their bodies allowed, as their kiss deepened as Kaidan’s tongue momentarily slipped into her mouth. Kaidan propped up his legs to pull Shepard closer. She readjusted herself so she could straddle his lap without breaking the kiss. He let his tongue explore her lips, memorizing their shape, while his hands gripped her waist. His tongue traced the scar that marked both lips and trailed upward.

Shepard pulled away to catch her breath, not realizing how long she was holding it. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder as she bit her lip, holding back a smile. Kaidan in turn let his head drop back against the seat as he also tried to steady himself, with Shepard still straddling his lap.

Shepard cursed to herself, quietly but against Kaidan’s ear. He turned to her direction, “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

Shepard held back a laugh, “No, that’s not it…” She paused as she groaned again in frustration. “I shouldn’t want this.” She poked his chest gingerly. “Ishouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this. I sh-“ her voice trailed off as she again tapped her forehead against Kaidan’s shoulder in frustration.

Kaidan took a deep breath, “You aren’t taking advantage of me if I also want this, Shepard.” She met his gaze as he ran a finger across her forehead, tucking a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear.

They looked at one another for a long while before Shepard finally spoke up, “Karina.”

Kaidan gave her a raised eyebrow.

“Call me Karina.” She felt her pulse in her throat. He just kissed her senseless, why did this somehow feel more intimate? “Any fraternization rules are pretty much out the window now. At least when we’re alone.”

Karina could hear the smile in his tone. “Then you should call me Kaidan.”

“Alright, fair enough Kaidan.” She laughed, feeling another wave of blush rise in her face, but she didn’t make an effort to hide it this time.

Kaidan felt his stomach flip. Something about the way her accent made the syllables roll so softly from her tongue. He really liked hearing his name in her voice and couldn’t wait to hear it again.

Hope you liked it.

#mass effect #kaidan alenko #commander shepard #shenko #fshenko #my fanfics #mass effect fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

august-anon · 4 years

Text

Tickletober Day 16 - Massage [LATE]

Honestly I wrote this in a rush and I don't even know if it's in-character, but I remember really liking it when I wrote it, so, lol

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Ship(s): RK1000

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Connor/Ler!Markus

Word Count: 1770 words

Summary: The new software patch has come through, and androids can now feel sensations a lot more similarly to humans. Markus plans to use this to treat his overworked boyfriend to a massage, but things don't quite go as planned.

[ao3 link]

----------------------------

The new software patch hadn’t come without it’s fair share of difficulties. Granted, their new lives hadn’t come without their fair share of difficulties. In comparison, getting the software patch approved and developed had been a walk in the park.

Androids had always been able to feel, in some sense of the word. They could sense pressures and temperatures, just enough so that their bodies wouldn’t be damaged, but that was about as far as their sense of touch could go.

The new patch was optional, of course, and with it came a slew of new sensations: androids would be able to feel things far more similarly to how humans experienced the world. The brush of fabric, the squeeze of a held hand, the press of two pairs of lips.

Connor knew that Markus had been extremely excited for the new update to roll out. He was in one of the first waves to get it, being the current political figurehead for all androids, and Connor had stayed with him overnight exclusively to watch Markus obsess over the new sensations available to him. He’d spent no less than an hour just going through his paint brushes and dragging them across his hands and arms. It was rather endearing.

Connor himself was in one of the later waves, but he didn’t mind. Getting it later gave Connor ample time to consider whether he himself wanted to even accept the new software patch. On the one hand, it would likely make his job as a detective much easier if he wasn’t constantly being assaulted by such sensations. On the other hand… Connor wanted to feel. He wanted to feel the warm pressure of Hank’s hugs, the fluffy softness of Sumo’s fur, the press of Markus’s lips on his.

In the end, Connor couldn’t find it in himself to opt out, no matter the effect it would have on his work.

The day Connor downloaded the update, Markus insisted they be together. He dragged Connor away from the precinct early, Fowler and Hank watching them go with nothing more than a shake of their heads. He brought Connor home with him instead of taking him back to Hank’s and practically whipped his shirt off before demanding he downloaded the update.

“I still don’t get why my shirt has to be off,” Connor grumbled, though the effect was diminished by the way his lips ticked up at the corners.

“Because,” Markus said, lightly rubbing at the curves of his shoulders, “the second you’re done updating, I’m giving you a massage. You work too hard.”

Connor furrowed his brow and tossed a look at Markus over his shoulder. “We don’t have muscles Markus.”

Markus just rolled his eyes, grin not leaving his face. “Just do it, already!”

The update took a little over an hour to complete, Connor having gone into stasis in one of Markus’s plush chairs while Markus painted to pass the time. Once it was finished, Connor slowly booted up again, making a quiet, surprised noise as the soft fabric of the chair processed in his mind. The noise was enough to alert Markus, though, who quickly set aside all his paints and approached Connor.

“So?” He asked, voice giddy. “How does it feel?”

Connor chuckled a little, Markus’s giddiness becoming contagious. “It’s certainly… something new.”

Markus rolled his eyes. “That’s all you have to say?”

Connor reached up and grabbed the collar of Markus’s shirt, pulling him down into a kiss. Markus made a surprised noise, but quickly relaxed into it, bringing his hand up to cup Connor’s jaw while the other braced itself on the chair behind Connor’s head. Connor was grinning when they pulled back.

“It’s very good,” he said cheekily.

Markus chuckled lightly, his artificial breath puffing out across Connor’s face in a way that felt entirely foriegn, yet he couldn’t wait to get used to it.

“Humans take this sort of thing for granted, don’t they?”

Connor shrugged. “They’ve never been without it. Can you blame them?”

“I suppose not.” Markus grinned down at him. “But I believe I promised you a massage?”

Connor rolled his eyes, but let Markus tug him off the chair and onto the rarely-used bed. Androids didn’t need to sleep like humans did, only going into stasis if they were going to be idle for long periods of time. As such, bedrooms and the like didn’t get much use from android tenants, but Connor could tell that Markus had freshly washed the sheets just for this occasion. He couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.

“Hey! I’ve actually started using this bed, now! Sheets are so soft, Connor, you don’t understand.”

Connor held up his hands in surrender and climbed onto the bed. Markus manhandled him until he was lying on his stomach, head on a pillow, and Markus straddling his hips.

“Now try to relax,” Markus said. “We all know you don’t do that enough.”

“Says Android Jesus,” Connor grumbled into his pillow.

But he did try to relax when he felt Markus’s hands rest on his back. Markus lightly ran his palms up and down Connor’s back in smooth motions, and Connor furrowed his brow when the polymer skin seemed to twitch under his fingers. It didn’t feel bad, Connor was enjoying the sensation, but it certainly wasn’t relaxing. In fact, it was almost tingly, and it made Connor want to squirm around on the bed, almost fight to get away.

“This okay?” Markus asked, leaning over him a bit more.

“Yeah, it’s just-- Tingly. It feels weird.”

Markus hummed. “Probably just because you’re not used to being able to feel, yet.”

Connor hummed in agreement and tried to relax into the bed. The problem was, it only got more and more difficult as Markus kept going. He experimented with dragging fingers, different pressures, even using his synthetic nails to see if it would help Connor relax, and everything just made the tingling worse. The nails even made Connor let out a high-pitched squeal that he wasn’t even aware his voice module was capable of.

“Are you alright?” Markus asked hesitantly, having ripped his hands away from Connor’s back the second the sound started.

“I’m fine,” Connor said, though he knew his tone came across frustrated. “I didn’t even mean to make that sound. It doesn’t feel bad at all, it’s just… weird.”

Connor felt Markus sit back on his haunches and make a quiet little humming sound. He glanced over his shoulder to find that Markus had his Concentration Face on, the one he wore when painting or playing piano or researching something heavily. Then, when the Concentration Face broke into a wild grin, Connor suddenly felt very much like prey.

“Hey, Connor.”

“... Yes, Markus?”

“You’re ticklish.”

Connor’s jaw dropped, and he knew if androids were capable of blushing, he would be. Well wasn’t that embarrassing, a whole new weakness to add to the list, and he had admitted that he liked it. Connor quickly turned and hid his face in the pillow, letting out a loud groan.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Markus said, sounding far too cheeky for his own good. “Guess you’re just too ticklish to enjoy a massage.”

Connor made a series of wordless grumbles into his pillow, refusing to even look at Markus.

He felt Markus’s hands smooth out over his shoulder blades, thankfully firm enough that it didn’t tickle (too badly). He also felt Markus lean over him to talk softly into his ear.

“Do you want to keep going?” Markus asked, all teasing gone from his voice. “I know you said it didn’t feel bad, and I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing that beautiful smile and hearing that gorgeous laugh.”

“Flatterer,” Connor spat into his pillow, deliberately not answering Markus’s question.

Markus hummed, that teasing tone slowly making its way back in. “Oh, dear. He still has some sass in him, does he?”

Connor finally lifted his head to glance over his shoulder and give Markus a very fake scowl. “And what are you going to do about that?”

Markus grinned and Connor found himself squealing again as he felt fingers skittering at his sides. He snorted, an embarrassing, awful sound, and buried his face in the pillow to better hide his reactions. Markus cooed at him through a laugh.

“Come on, don’t hide! I want to hear you!”

Connor shook his head as an already embarrassingly breathless cackle escaped into the pillow when Markus squeezed his hips. Though he had to admit, Markus laughing with his took some of the stressful tension out of the situation, Connor didn’t think he’d get over his embarrassment anytime soon.

Especially when he nearly started flopping around like a fish when Markus started tickling his back for real. Connor found himself suddenly glad that androids didn’t really need to breathe, because Connor couldn’t have stopped laughing no matter how hard he tried. The tickling was like heaven and hell all at once, both too much and not enough, and Connor couldn’t imagine how ticklish the rest of his body must have been if this was how his back felt.

Connor wailed and laughed and cackled as Markus tormented his back to the fullest. Together, they found out that the backs of Connor’s sides and ribs would get him wriggling like a worm, tickling up or down his spine would give him full-body shivers (which was weird, Connor had never shivered before), and tickling at the stretch of skin between his shoulder blades or the patch of skin at the base of Connor’s spine would have him shrieking so badly he’d go silent.

Eventually, Markus had mercy and toppled off Connor’s back with a laugh, bouncing down to the bed next to him. Connor found himself panting for breath despite not needing air, and he quickly turned himself onto his side facing Markus to get his back further out of reach. Some tingles lingered despite the sensation itself stopping, and Connor couldn’t help but giggle as they slowly faded out.

Markus leaned forward and kissed Connor’s head, and Connor gave him a tired smile. Markus returned it with a smile that was far more mischievous.

“We are so playing with that more, later.”

Connor barked out a laugh that was completely unrelated to the lingering tickles, shuffling closer to Markus. “Yeah, sure. But right now, I want to feel what it’s like to cuddle with my extremely attractive boyfriend.”

Markus hummed happily and wrapped his arms around Connor, pulling them chest-to-chest. “Only if my extremely attractive boyfriend returns the favor.”

Connor pecked him on the lips. “I’d be happy to.”

#tickle fic #My writing #tickletober2020 #dbh tickling #lee!connor #ler!markus #ticklish!connor #dbh #dbh connor #dbh markus #rk1000

105 notes · View notes

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Text

frENEMIES, pt.13 {Quarterback AU}

Summary: Grayson gets his answer and then some, but they forget about something important.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, swearing, smut

A/N - we’re almost at the end, one chapter after this one left.

Series Masterlist

Wide eyed, heart working overtime to keep her standing, Y/N steps back in shock. Her face burns, her head is spinning and she can hardly breathe with Grayson's intense gaze locked on her, looking for any indication of what she feels and what her answer may be.

"I know this is a lot, but I don't want to waste anymore time. We wasted too much already and I don't want a single day to pass with regret on my mind." Biting his lip, Grayson felt the icy grasp of fear in his heart, her silence allowing his insecurities to take the reigns and torture him.

"I know we are different and we have so much to work on but I also know that my heart has always known of you and you only. I've loved you so long, but you were so out of my league that I accepted every crumb you threw my way. Even to be a frenemy if that's all you had to offer." Reaching for her again, he's pleasantly surprised when she doesn't fight his touch, she doesn't even tense up.

Her lips press together and her eyes close as he comes closer, his hand on her cheek again and she finally feels like she can breathe again. He's always been a breath of fresh air, the only one who made her feel like home is a person and not a place. Having him hold her felt like she came back home, to the safe place she longed for.

"But that book...God, Y/N, that's the most eloquent love letter I've ever read and I hate that I didn't see it sooner. I didn't because I never looked for you because I was so sure you wanted a life without me...that you thought the worst of me." Leaning down, his forehead touching upon hers, he lets out a heavy sigh and his shoulders instinctively relax when he feels her arm circle around his waist, bringing him closer.

"I never did. I'm sorry I made you feel that way." She finally speaks, her voice small and frail as she feels, but it feels so good to have him there, to have him hold her, his cologne bringing all the feelings to the surface as she smiles.

It takes only a second for her lips to find his bottom one, to leave a gentle kiss before taking the soft flesh between her teeth, gingerly nibbling on it before his smile forces her to step back.

"Don't start something you can't finish my sneaky little princess." The warning in his voice was clear just as the underlying implication it carried and if it were anyone but Grayson, Y/N would have smiled shyly and looked away, ending the moment effectively.

But this is Grayson.

Her hands are back at her sides, her fingers grasping the hem of her shirt before pulling it off so quickly Grayson feels his heart might burst, especially when he sees she's not wearing anything underneath.

“Fuck” crosses his lips as he holds her teasing gaze, wondering if this is a trap or sincere.

"No bra? Naughty." Her purrs, a smile stretching on his face as she shrugs, very aware of the difficulty he's dealing with because he's doing his best to look at her face when his eyes are desperately trying to catch a glimpse of her breasts, the very ones he saw once when he dunked water on her as a prank and she wore a white T shirt without a bra and her fancy undershirt didn't help hide her nipples either.

Rolling her eyes at him, playfully for once, she takes his hand and places it over her left breast, noticing he's starting to sweat.

"I took it off, you can look." Stepping closer, her voice is low and seductive, just a hint of amusement behind her words. "And you can touch too."

Chuckling nervously, Grayson shakes his head in disbelief, wondering if he stepped into some parallel universe because the last few days have been unreal, but her breast felt pretty damn real under his palm just as the mischievous glint in her eyes did.

"I'm honestly scared I won't be able to fucking control myself and you'd get hurt." Frowning, he swallows thickly as her bottoms are soon on the ground too and a pair of plain white undies is all that stands in the way of her standing completely naked before him.

"We bared our souls to one another, Grayson. Showing my body, as flawed as it is, doesn't scare me anymore." Tilting her head to the left ever so slightly, she smiles softly, her hand slowly travelling up his arm, pausing on his bicep where she applies just a little pressure, as if she's holding onto him.

"You saw the best and worst in me and you still love me. I don't think you will hurt me. Besides, as my husband you will have to get used to this sight because Sundays are always clothes optional." Winking, she got him to blush and even gasp once she grabbed the waistband of her panties as well and discarded them too.

"Husband? So, you'll...You want to?" He couldn't believe anything, from her accepting his wild preposition to her taking her clothes off entirely before him, willingly and confidently that it had him hard and in pain.

"Of course. But I do expect a real, on the knees kind of a proposal." She noted and he nods, a self satisfied smirk on his lips as he falls to his knees and his hands grab her thighs next. He could tell she's unprepared, completely surprised with his sudden actions that she didn't understand what is happening. Applying just a little more pressure on her skin, he smirks - he has so much to teach her.

"And you'll have that. But I'm hungry, so let's talk about that later." And he was right, she didn't understand. Her eyebrows furrowed and her confident facade was gone when he pressed his lips against her inner thigh before the tip of his tongue had reached a spot that made her shiver.

"Oh", she gasped, realizing what he meant, especially when he used his fingers to part her folds, exposing her clit to his mouth. And he teased and he suckled on the sensitive bud and she tried to move away, unaccustomed to the feelings and jolts of electricity he caused. But when he felt her legs would give out, Grayson knew he had to take her to bed.

"You okay there, love?" Raising an eyebrow in his typical cocky manner, Grayson scooped her up in no time, enjoying her surprised scream that followed.

"Go left." She chuckled when he took a wrong turn, loving the throaty, loud laugh he gifted her with.

But all the laughs died when he entered her bedroom and both looked at the bed.

"If you change your mind, tell me. Okay?" He gave her a pointed look, one that was hoping she wouldn't feel embarrassed to stop, no matter how far they went. He just wanted her to trust him, to feel safe in his arms because he knows she's a virgin and he knows everything he does is new for her.

"I won't, but thanks for being considerate." Pecking his cheek, she smiled innocently as she pulled at his shirt. Unexpectedly, Grayson threw her down on the bed and she squealed just before she had a chance to reprimand him for the clothes that still clung to his body.

However, the moment she landed on the bed, his shirt had already decorated her floor. His pants followed and she couldn't help but stare at his hardened length, still pressed down with his briefs and she could see a stain had already formed and it felt good. It felt good to make a man like him needy and it felt good to be needed.

"I can't fucking believe this is happening." Hating how awkward he sounds, Grayson wanted to run off and scream into a pillow before returning but she didn't laugh at him, she didn't make fun of him. Y/N just nods, confirming she's just as happy as he is and she wants more. She wants him.

Freeing his hardened member, Grayson could tell she was nervous, especially when she grasped the sheets, unable to break her stare.

"Y/N, love, we can stop." He reminds her and she finally looks into his eyes again, only to roll her pretty ones.

"You have exactly one minute to suit up and show me what I've been missing."

Smiling, he shakes his head at her ‘suit up’ term, and he couldn't help but love how bossy she is. It always worked him up in the past and it felt surreal that she was actually spreading her legs for him as he stumbled around to find his wallet and a trusted condom in one of the compartments.

She watched him carefully, every muscle as it contracted under his tan skin, appreciating his beauty, his toned abs, silently thanking California and football because she finally sees the benefits of it and she can fully appreciate the sport, but most of all, she loves how nervous he is too. He isn't taking this for granted and she can tell she's not just another girl - she's THE girl.

Putting a condom on, Grayson finally got on the bed, moving on top of her to get a kiss.

" 's been too long since we kissed." He muses, allowing his hands to travel down her body, trying to feel as much as he can before his desire and impatience takes over. Thankfully, he expects to have more time...the rest of his life to map out her entire body in his mind.

"Stop being adorable." She smiles against his lips, trying to hide how heavy her breathing is as his hands roam her body, especially how his right hand is back between her legs, one of his fingers gently slipping inside her, eliciting a moan.

"Want to try and order me around again?" His cocky smirk drove her crazy, but she was at his mercy. He had her trembling, craving more, wanting to finally feel him inside and she knew she should try and wait longer, let him have his way with her the way he intended to - the slow pace he tried to establish to make it more pleasurable, but she couldn't wait.

"Not so bossy now, huh?" His laugh had made her groan, especially when his second finger followed and she arched her back, feeling a little bit of pain already.

"Fuck, this will be a bit tight, but the pain will be gone fast, okay? I'll make sure of that."

And she trusted him, fully. She saw him pull his fingers out and lick them clean, only to grab his dick, aligning the tip with her entrance.

"I'm ready." She said meekly, just above a whisper but he paused, looking back at her in worry.

"I trust you." She reassured him, biting down on her lip as he reluctantly pressed his tip against her entrance, slowly pushing inside but he's slow, trying to be as gentle as he can be, watching her face for every grimace, pressing her body closer to his to feel every inkling of pain.

"I love you." He pressed his forehead against hers, letting out a deep breath as he moved in a little more, hearing a few strained, short breaths leave her lips. She wanted to say it back, she did, but she had a hard time focusing on anything with him so close, with him inside.

"I've always loved her." He whispers again, kissing her lips gingerly before passionately capturing her last breath.

That's when he pushed past the barrier, frowning as her yelp interrupted the kiss, feeling as if his heart aches knowing he caused her pain. But that's almost inevitable with his size, even if she wasn't a virgin.

"Are you okay?" Looking over her, he swallowed thickly as she gave him a pained smile. She blinked fast a few times, her hands grasping his arms as he held himself up not to crush her under his weight although she quite liked the feeling of his body pressing her into the mattress. It was comforting, something she longed for.

"Yeah." Nodding, she licks her lips before one of her hands moves the hair out of his face.

"I think I'm ready for you to...ya know." She chuckles, deciding to keep the remains of the burning pain to herself. Pleasure is the only thing that will push the pain aside and she was more than ready.

And he moved, just then bottoming out and she had never heard a sexier sound than his deep moan, enjoying every single one as he slowly moved in and out, keeping an even pace. He felt her nails as they embedded themselves in the skin of his back, he felt the needy squeeze of her hands on his ass and hips and he felt the soles of her feet as they pressed against him too.

She wasn't shy in vocalizing how he made her feel and he didn't hide his moans and grunts, even growls. Realizing she got off on the sounds, Grayson used it to his advantage.

Once he got her over the finish line, it took him less than a minute to come, half laying on top of her for a little longer as they peppered each other with kisses, giggling like two kids who had just done something naughty.

They fell asleep in each other's arms, peaceful and relaxed, finally without haunting dreams of the past.

Morning had come too soon, waking Y/N who immediately looked for the man she had finally gotten a chance to be happy with, only to find him gone.

Sitting up, she looked around nervously, but his clothes were still scattered on the floor and all that was missing were his briefs.

Sighing in relief, she tried getting up only to grunt in pain, looking down to find her sheets have a bloodstain and her skin had purple fingertip marks on her hips.

Huffing, she half limped to the bathroom, taking her robe before washing her face and brushing her teeth, running her fingers through her hair to make it somewhat presentable.

Confident enough she isn't a bloated, puffy mess with a bird nest on her head, she headed for the kitchen where she could smell breakfast already, a wide smile upon her lips, leaving her phone forgotten on her nightstand.

But Grayson wasn't in the kitchen, even though the food was, yet she could hear his voice clearly. Following the sound of his morning voice, she frowned just before entering her foyer, realizing he's not alone and the second voice belonged to someone else she knows.

"She made her choice, so leave." She could hear Grayson's stern remark, holding her breath as she remained glued to the wall just next to the door.

"This isn't college anymore, you can't scare me away, quarterback. So back the fuck off and let me talk to her. Or do you think she'd be happy letting you do the talking? We both know she's not that girl." And damn it, that's when she knew for sure who it is that showed up in the morning just as they agreed on the night before...before Grayson showed up.

Peaking out, she drew a sharp breath, pulling the top of her robe closer to hide her body.

"Mike?"

Tags: @livexdolan @dreadingdaisies @strangerliaa @mendesficsxbombay @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @dolandolll @idekxdolan

FINALE

#dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan quarterback au #grayson dolan quarterback

97 notes · View notes

starlightsearches · 4 years

Text

A New Life Pt. 2

I liked the Kylo Ren soulmate AU so much and I got so much love on it that I decided to write a second part! I hope you guys like it! (Here’s the first part if you missed it)

Requests are still open ✨

Kylo Ren X female reader soulmate! AU Pt. 2

AN: Mentions sex.

It’s only been a few days since you’ve boarded the Finalizer, but you’ve certainly made yourself at home. So far, Ren has provided you many items that you requested, including an impressive collection of art supplies, a veritable rainbow of a wardrobe, and most eclectically, a maintenance jumpsuit, which you’re wearing right now, the top half tied around your waist over a sleeveless white shirt.

It had been sweet, and strange to him at the time, when you asked for it, walking through the hangar as Ren took you on a tour of the ship. You had been wide-eyed, admiring the sleek, black organization of the Order, so different from the simple and slow life you had known. You watched the workers at their duties, and a few radar technicians had scurried by, trying to avoid Ren’s attention while still getting a good look at you; the ship was full of talk about his new “guest,” but that had been the first time you’d left his room, and everyone wanted to see.

“What are they wearing?” You had been asking questions non-stop, and Ren tried to answer as many as he could to the best of his abilities. He liked to watch as you listened, processing the information with the slightest of scowls while you internalized it.

“Jumpsuits,” he was grateful it was a question he could answer easily; the more difficult the question was to answer, the more focused you looked, and the more distracted he became by the shape of your brow and the set of your eyes, “standard issue.” Your gaze had followed behind the techs, the look becoming familiar to Ren already. He liked that he was learning to read you without using the force, that your subtle gestures were becoming windows for him to peek through even when no one else could.

“Could I have one?” You had asked, still so polite, despite the fact that he had never said no to one of your requests before. That didn’t mean he wasn’t confused.

“Why?” Compared to the other clothes you had requested, the jumpsuit was plain, and the green-gray color incredibly ugly. You had looked at him, lashes framing your pleading eyes, the corners of your mouth turned up into the slightest of smiles.

“Please?” That was all it took. Ren would give you anything you wanted. Asking something of you, though, was not something he felt prepared for.

“They want us to do what?” you say, sitting curled up on the couch with your sketchbook on your lap. Ren sits across from you, very careful not to move. You had already scolded him a few times for fidgeting too much, and he doesn’t want to ruin your drawing.

“Um, a wedding?” Ren says. He wasn’t sure how to explain, had been putting it off for the last few days, but the longer he waited, the more impatient the general became.

“But why?” You laugh when you say it, and Ren adds your laugh to the mental list he’s compiling of his favorite things about you. “Aren’t weddings between soulmates kind of, I don’t know, silly?”

“Well, actually,” he clears his throat, and you go back to sketching, staring at him for a moment before adding another line on the flimsi and blending it out with your finger, “no one really knows-” he swallows before continuing, “that we’re soulmates.” You pause in your drawing.

“Why not?” You look up, confused, and then disappointed, leaking sadness out of the corners of your mouth, and it reminds Ren why he didn’t want to have this conversation in the first place.

“The First Order frowns upon connections that could put the organization at risk. Soulmates are seen as a hazard.” You nod solemnly, dropping the sketchbook into your lap and looking pensive. “Some people know, obviously, but it was decided that it would be better if we kept the true nature of our relationship secret.” He watches closely, taking in your microexpressions with a careful eye. You hum through your lips, deep in thought, and Ren waits anxiously to know what you’ll say next.

“So what will everyone else be told?”

“We’ll keep the details private. Our marriage will be seen as a political alliance . . . would that be alright with you?”

“Of course,” you say, after a short pause, “it doesn’t really matter to me, whether there’s a wedding or not.” Ren relaxes, and you start another sketch, slower this time, more detailed.

“You never wanted a wedding?” he asks, watching your hand glide across the flimsi; your hands go on the list as well.

“I don’t think there’s been a wedding in my village . . . ever.” You look up into the distance, trying to remember. “When you live somewhere as remote as I did, most people meet their soulmates at a very young age. By the time they’re old enough for something like a wedding, they’ve usually been bonded for years. The additional ceremony is pointless.”

“What about people without soulmates?” Ren wonders out loud. It’s pretty common for people in the Order to marry without finding a soulmate, for political alliances or companionship, but your life is so different from his. Despite the difference, it’s easy for him to talk to you. He never feels like you’re judging him. Being around you is like being someone else and himself wrapped up into a person who makes sense.

“They stay in the village, help raise the children and take care of the cattle and whatever else is needed. We support them when they are too old to work. In a way, we become their soulmates when we care for them.” You smile fondly at the memories, and he watches the faces of old friends flash by in your head.

“Seems sad.”

“Not forever,” you say, and then pause before adding, “I thought I was one of them. The sadness doesn’t last.” You set your drawings to the side and stand from the couch, stretching for a moment.

“Are you glad,” he asks, even though it scares him to hear your answer, “that you’re not . . . one of them?” You go to him, sitting at his side and curling yourself up next to him. The couch is already too small for him alone, but he can’t be uncomfortable when you show him affection like this.

“Yes,” you smile, and he places one hand in your hair, always trying to gauge the invisible boundary between not enough and too much. Will he ever be too much for you? The thought haunts him.

“What about after the wedding?” You ask quietly, your face buried in the fabric of his shirt.

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it traditional for the couple to . . . go somewhere? Like, a honeymoon?” Oh. Ren’s heart races, he’s suddenly highly aware that he can feel you everywhere on him, the press of your body against his a little terrifying now. All your contact up until this point had been initiated by you, never more than an innocent resting of your head on his shoulder when you sleep or the brush of your fingers against his arm when you’re walking side by side down the corridor. He hadn’t wanted to pressure you, to make you uncomfortable, but it was difficult to maintain control, his eyes always managing to catch the gleam of a zipper at the back of your dress, or the shape of your hips underneath the fabric of your jumpsuit. And now you're inviting more, and it frightens him how much he wants it.

“I- I don’t think I could leave,” he says with some difficulty, purposely avoiding the true nature of your question, “I need to stay on the ship.”

“That’s a shame,” you reply. You’re looking at him now, your chin resting on his sternum, and your eyes examine him mischievously; you recognize the effect that you’re having on him, and you like it. It calms him a little, knowing how easily you accept him as he is. “I guess we’ll have to have a honeymoon here.” You roll off of the couch without warning, and run your fingers down the length of his arm. The gesture makes him shiver, and he can’t look at you when he feels this way.

“I’ll tell the general to schedule the wedding as soon as possible,” Ren says, focusing all his energy on keeping his voice steady. You bend down to eye level where he lies, and place a lingering kiss on his temple before whispering in his ear.

“I can’t wait.”

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren au #soulmate au #my writing

218 notes · View notes

raendown · 4 years

Link

Pairing: IzunaTobirama Word count: 2078 Soulmate au: The one where touching your soulmate will rapidly heal their injuries

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 211

Obviously he knew that getting in to the Uchiha compound and getting to Izuna were going to be two different tasks with two very different levels of difficulty. For a sensor of his ability it wasn’t all that hard to avoid the patrols and find a spot where he could slip between the buildings out of sight, feet silent as they tread on cursed ground. Much harder was dodging the rapidfire attacks of an overprotective maniac. He’d forgotten that Madara was a sensor too, not quite as naturally talented as himself but well trained and quite sensitive.

His opponent ranted mindlessly about not letting him finish the job he’d already started as they danced over rooftops and dodged around trees. Tobirama did what he could to simply avoid each attack without retaliating, knowing that he would never hear the end of it if he somehow got in a lucky shot. It was both lucky and unlucky, then, that Madara had always been just that much stronger than him, enough so that he was able to keep Tobirama busy darting from place to place when he really did have somewhere he needed to be as quickly as possible. Obviously he hadn’t expected this little trip to be easy. He’d just thought the trouble would be getting out rather than getting in.

“Stop running and just let me kill you!”

“You may find this hard to believe”-Tobirama scowled as he barely dodged a sharp blade to the ribs-“but that would run counter to something you want very badly.”

“All I want right now is your head, Senju!”

Madara bullied in close, forcing Tobirama back even farther from his goal. He really was getting tired of this. If at all possible he’d hoped to avoid using the failsafe he brought along, not wanting to deplete his chakra stores just in case, but it was starting to look like there was no other way for him to get where he needed to be. The opening he needed came when Madara’s foot slipped on a loose tile, barely a stumble with how quickly he recovered but it was just enough time for Tobirama to loose a kunai that sailed over the man’s shoulder unimpeded. His opponent lifted one eyebrow in a look of disdain and snorted.

“Your aim is shit,” he growled.

“Is it?” was Tobirama’s snarky reply. Then he reached for the hiraishin marker he’d just thrown and disappeared from one brother to appear in front of another. Izuna coughed in his direction with little surprise.

“Took your time getting here.”

Rather than waste breath with apologies, Tobirama let his insult be known with a simple huff as he slipped across the room to pull his lifetime rival upright. “There is utterly no airflow in here, how do they expect you to heal in such a stagnant environment? I’m surprised my kunai was able to come in through the window without bouncing off a dozen or so protective seals.”

The moment his hands closed around the other man’s arms Izuna drew in a ragged breath that sounded like a drowning man gasping for air - a little too close to the mark, probably, considering the weeping bandages wrapped around his torso. Long used to communicating in silence, both of them agreed without words that now was not the time to address whose blade had cut in to whom. Tobirama still winced when his soulmate did the same. Being in tune was one thing but just because the pair of them had accepted their bond long before their idiot brothers ever even met didn’t make them mind readers. He had assumed Izuna would dodge the opposite way.

Lucky for him Hashirama wasn’t around to give him any lectures on making assumptions.

On the other hand, Madara was definitely still around. With his sensing abilities it didn’t take him very long to figure out where his opponent had gone. It took less than a minute for him to cross the distance Tobirama had been able to traverse instantly with his Hiraishin and it was hard to tell whether the twisted emotion filling his face as he entered was annoyance at himself for falling behind or rage at seeing an enemy wrapped around his already injured little brother. Likely it didn’t help anything that Tobirama had been the one to deal this injury.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” To his credit, even in such an agitated state his aim was utterly perfect, cutting straight towards Tobirama’s head at such an angle that Izuna was not in any danger of taking the blow.

“Oh for the love of chakra.” From the exasperation in his tone it didn’t seem like Izuna appreciated the efforts being made on his behalf.

“I won’t let you hurt him anymore!” Madara shrieked as he lunged forward.

Tobirama was smart enough to drag Izuna in to a tight hold before dodging away. “Do you see me hurting him?” he asked with just a hint of that smarmy tone that got him in so much trouble as a child.

He immediately regretted having such an attitude when it only seemed to enrage the other man even farther. Izuna sighed in his arms but made no attempt to struggle. And why would he? Trying to get away would be the exact opposite of helping himself.

“If you actually want your brother to live then you’ll back off!” Tobirama dodged the next attempt to catch him, just barely resisting the childish urge to stick out his tongue.

“EXCUSE ME?” Madara hollered. “How dare you threaten him like that!”

Lounging in the arms of his ‘captor’, Izuna very seriously examined the nails on his right hand. “Brother, do lower the volume. I have a headache from all the incense the elders keep burning. Honestly, I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve told them I hate the stuff.”

“PUT MY BROTHER DOWN OR I SWEAR I WILL GIVE YOU A HEADACHE WITH MY GUNBAI TO YOUR FACE!”

Tobirama held his precious burden tighter, prompting Izuna to take another deep breath and let it out as a sigh of satisfaction. Already he sounded like he could breath so much easier as the damage to his lungs slowly repaired itself. Most of the bandages around his chest were already soaked through but the bleeding at least seemed to have stopped, the edges of his wound undoubtedly stitching themselves back together out of sight.

Surprisingly it took a while before either of them realized how ridiculous it was to keep dodging around the tiny sick room. Tobirama’s speed allowed him to stay just out of reach but even knowing that he couldn’t relax, more than aware of how brutal his death would be if Madara did finally manage to get a hold of him. It was only after he had rebounded off the same wall four times in the same minute that he finally threw in the mental towel and decided that braving the rest of the compound was at least more likely to provide some sort of escape route than running circles in here.

“GET BACK HERE!” Madara’s voice followed after him as he barreled through the open window. “CAPTURE HIM! DON’T LET HIM GET AWAY WITH MY BROTHER!”

“Oh you’ve done it now, dick head,” Izuna piped up calmly. With color returning to his face he looked so much better than he had just minutes ago, wasting away with nothing to ease the pain but a cup of poppy milk left at his bedside. Dangerous if not used correctly. Whoever thought that was a good idea was going to find themselves on the wrong end of Tobirama’s temper if he made it out of this without getting skewered.

“Can’t you calm him down somehow?”

With a look on his face as though that simply hadn’t occurred to him, Izuna cleared his throat with several exaggerated coughs and twisted with a surprising amount of ease. “I’m not really in any danger Aniki. You can stop chasing us.”

“Not in any danger!?” Madara choked on several apoplectic noises. “You are - stop dodging me Senju! - in the arms of your deadliest enemy and you think you’re not in any danger!? When I get you back in a bed I am going to tie you there until your common sense returns!”

“Tobi won’t hurt me, will you Tobi?” Izuna said in a coy tone.

Before he had a chance to tell the idiot for the hundredth time not to call him that Tobirama was startled in to missing a step by the softest little kiss against his cheek. Leave it to Izuna to find the most inappropriate way to show his trust. Apparently everyone they were currently in eyesight of was just as shocked, the woman who had meant to assault them from the shadows sailing by harmlessly only to crash headlong in to a wall and remain there unmoving. Madara, of course, was the first to recover his voice after such a surprise.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR ENTIRE MIND?” he screeched.

“Down the volume, dearest brother, I am perfectly safe in the arms of my soulmate. He’s healing me, you massive oaf, and it would be a much more comfortable process if you would stop forcing him to dash around.” With a cute little huff Izuna tossed his hair and Tobirama very seriously considered asking the next Yamanaka he ran in to about erasing his entire memory. What he wouldn’t give to just disappear in that moment.

“When I said calm him down,” he muttered, “I didn’t mean that you should tell him all our secrets.”

Then he winced at the volume of Madara shrieking his disbelief that any Senju could be his precious brother’s soulmate and certainly not the one who almost put him in an early grave. Tobirama held his precious bundle a little closer with a shiver at the thought. Or perhaps the shiver was for the way Izuna curled in tighter to whisper for his ears only.

“Imagine what he’ll say when he finds out we made friends even before him and that giant walking tree you call a brother.” He snickered quietly under his breath while Tobirama tried to take a few bracing lungfuls of air. That particular little nugget of information was likely to go down about as well as the rest had so far, although it was far from the worst reaction they were sure to face. When Hashirama found out that he had made peace with an Uchiha, found his soulmate in an Uchiha, fell in love with a bratty Uchiha? The amount of hugs he was going to suffer through almost made him think about setting Izuna down and throwing himself upon Madara’s much less painful mercy.

Death could only happen once, after all, but the shame of being lifted off his feet like a child and cuddled like a kitten was sure to last for years to come.

“I would say you owe me for this,” he grumbled, “if I hadn’t been the one to run you through in the first place.”

“Next time we plan our dance a little better,” Izuna agreed.

Somewhat tuned out at this point, Madara could be heard shouting demands to know what they meant by ‘planning’ as well as accusations of brainwashing. He went largely ignored. Despite the crowd gathering around him, most people seemed more interested in the way their heir looked perfectly comfortable in the arms of his so-called deadliest enemy.

“Am I going to regret coming here to save your life?” Tobirama asked with a hint of drama he would deny till the end of days.

“Oh don’t be like that,” Izuna chuckled. “Here, let me make it worth your trouble.”

“How exactly do you- oh.”

Tobirama could practically feel the fire rising in his cheeks, refusing to look down at the man settling back in to his arms after twisting up to plant a kiss on his lips. Several other members of the Uchiha clan joined their leader in screeching with confusion and he did his best to ignore all of them.

If he managed to get out of this compound alive he and his soulmate were going to have another very long talk about what sort of behaviors were appropriate with others around. And maybe another long talk about when the hell Izuna seemed to have developed feelings to match his own. That conversation promised to be particularly interesting.

#rae writes #soulmate collection #izutobi #izuna #tobirama #madara #fanfiction

33 notes · View notes

sohin-ace · 4 years

Text

Dio - Feed

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

Enjoy~

Sick. You felt sick.

You were currently laid on your side on the bed you shared with Dio. It was like your body was dying. You spent your days like this, unable to move, restless and with no strength to do anything.

You only stayed like this, lips and throat dry, skin pale, breath heavy, eyes stinging. From any exterior perspective, it would just look like you had a fever, or a bad case of the flu.

But it wasn't even close to that.

After protesting for so long, Dio turned you into a vampire to live eternity with him. You loved the man, but you didn't want nor were you ready to give up your humanity yet.

You were forced into this new life and you couldn't bear it. No matter what you did or what he told you, you just couldn't feed on humans, as you still felt like you were human yourself.

Vampires couldn't die, or at least, not easily. But depriving themselves of blood stopped the process of regeneration, thus explaining your current state.

You were dying, but you wouldn't die.

Dio did everything he could to make you eat, but everytime he brought someone to feed on, you just couldn't.

He brought men, women, children, criminals, old folks, sick people, dead people, anyone to make you feel better about feeding on humans. But in vain.

The blonde man entered your bedroom and came towards you. He leaned over the bed a put one hand over your covered figure.

"How do you feel today, my love?" He softly asked the same question he asked everyday.

"... A little bit tired..." you hoarsely whispered, barely able to look up at him.

You heard him sigh in desperation. You didn't want to feel like this either. You knew you were a burden to Dio, but Dio brought this burden to yourself too. It was a vicious circle of blaming each other.

"Dio... Please kill me already... I can't take this anymore..."

The man flinched at your attrocious words. Kill you? The love of his life? That wasn't even an option. He swore to find a way to make you accept your newfound lifestyle, even if it took centuries.

"In no way in hell am I killing you Y/N. You know this."

"Dio..." you weakly said "I can't bring myself to do it... I am human..." your breathing was more and more laboured as you spoke and Dio noticed.

He sat at the edge of the bed and pushed your shoulders slightly to make you lie down on your back and look at him.

"Y/N, weither you want it or not, you are not human anymore. You are way more than that. We are better than that. We are another form of life, way stronger than humans."

You closed your eyes. He was right, and you believed him, but you still felt your humanity deep inside you, blocking you.

He took your hand in his and pulled the covers off of your body.

"Get up, I brought you someone else today."

You weren't confident at all, you knew you wouldn't be able to do it either today, but you felt bad that Dio tried so hard to help you, so you didn't fight and got up, but not without difficulty as your lover helped you up.

He put his arm around your shoulders in support and slowly lead you to another room where a young woman was waiting, kneeled down next to Vanilla Ice.

"Thank you Ice. You can go." Dio ordered.

The loyal man bowed to his master, and went on his way, leaving you three alone and closing the door behind him.

You stared at the woman in front of you with sad empathy. Dio put you in front of the woman, pressing slightly on your shoulders in an attempt to relax you.

"This one is a bit different. I asked of Vanilla Ice to look for someone who actually desired to be bitten by a vampire. You don't have to kill her, but even if you do, she wouldn't mind. Isn't that right, Melissa?"

"That's right, Lord Dio! I don't mind at all! It's always been my wildest dream to be bitten by a real vampire! I don't care if I die if it's by you Milady Y/N!" The woman squealed with stars in her eyes.

You weren't completely convinced, but you thought about how much trouble it must have been to find such a specific person for you to feed on. What were the odds of finding a person who actually wanted to be bitten by a vampire.

You walked towards the woman and kneeled in front of her, taking in her features. She seemed lost in your vampiric red eyes, almost eager to what was going to happen next.

Dio was confident. This time, it would work, you would finally feed on someone and get some well deserved energy.

You were nervous, scared even. You couldn't look at the woman's eyes in shame, and only stared at the exposed skin of her neck and chest.

Your heart beat faster inside your ribcage and your throat felt even drier by the second. Your natural instincts started to kick in.

'It's okay,' you thought to reassure yourself. 'She wants it, and you need it. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong at all.'

You slowly leaned over her neck, resting one cold hand on her shoulder, and the other at the base of her jawline. With sharpened senses, you could smell and hear her warm blood pumping through her veins and you gulped.

You felt your stomach churn, almost nauseous at the sheer craving. Your hands were shaky and your fangs were out and ready to destroy any piece of flesh that came in the way of your longed meal.

You leaned even closer to her neck, and before you could finally give in, you whispered against her ear.

"...It's going to hurt... Are you sure?" you asked, secretely wanting her to protest and flee.

But she only put her chained hands over your front and clung to you, shaking slightly. You paused at this. Feeling her breathing quicken and the way she gripped on your chest for dear life.

You abruptly let go of her and got up, running to Dio's chest, yet again disgusted with yourself. You wanted to throw up.

"My head hurts Dio, I can't do it, If I start I won't stop, I won't hold back, this is driving me crazy I-" you shrieked through heavy breaths, hasty and panicked, but the man in front of you cut you off by grabbing your arms.

"Y/N, calm down! Look at me." You stopped yourself and looked up at his handsome features.

As intimidating as he looked, his charming expression calmed your nerves and you felt sad and disappointed. Again, after all he went through for you, you couldn't give in to your vampire instincts.

Tears welled up in your eyes. This was just not possible. You couldn't be a vampire. You couldn't force it inside you.

"Please Dio, end this. I know you're tired of it, I have no self-control, I'm not strong like you. I love you but-"

"Melissa, we'll get back to you later. For now, you can retire."

The woman got up and went out, joining Vanilla Ice and letting you alone. A deafening silence set itself in the room as you looked down in shame.

You expected Dio to yell and show his impatience. Even you were tired of yourself. And you were tired of living like this. As the pressure of his silence was starting to get unbearable, he said.

"Just as all things, the hardest part is the start. Do it once, and all the following times will feel natural." he spoke surprisingly softly. You looked up at him.

"The first time is the hardest...?"

He caressed your hair gently and it put you at ease. As bad as he could be, you didn't deserve him, or deserved to be treated this nicely by him.

"I have a solution, but I wanted to keep it as a last resort. Y/N, do you trust me?"

You looked into his deep amber eyes with confusion. There was a solution? You nodded, telling him that you of course, trusted him. His lips curled upwards.

"I actually, wanted to keep this for the bedroom, but you are hardly giving us any choice."

He leaned down to your level and cupped your chin in his huge hand. You blushed at the sudden contact.

"My poor Y/N, look at you, so frail, and ill, and so delicate..." he paused and leaned close to your ear, proudly exposing his powerful neck to you.

"Do it." he whispered against the shell of your ear.

Your eyes widened, and before you could answer in any way, he wrapped his strong arms around you, locking you into place.

"If you won't feed on any humans, at least for your first time, I will allow you to use me. You won't kill me, and I am not just anyone to you."

"I-is this okay...? You... Want to?" You hesitated, not believing his words.

That was it. Dio was the only one you trusted with this decision. If it was him, you could do it, at least this once. Maybe after this, you'll be able to control your thirst, not kill humans, and accept your fate as an eternal being.

"This is the most intimate way to show a vampire's love besides intercourse, so this is why I wanted to wait for a more appropriate time, when you felt better but..." he planted a soft kiss on your jawline. "It seems nothing else will unlatch you."

You melted in his embrace and nuzzled his neck sighing, taking in his scent.

"Thank you, Dio. What would I do without you?" you softly breathed against his skin and he shuddered.

Finally you felt ready. You brought your hands upwards, caressing him from his chest to his neck where you finally rested them. You peppered his neck with butterfly kisses to which he chuckled.

What you lacked with the human strangers he brought you was the passion. If it was with Dio, you could do anything. Right now you could only feel love and gratitude towards the man, not nausea or animalistic hunger like earlier.

You opened your mouth and ran your warm tongue over his skin in order to prep him.

"Higher." he huskily ordered as he shivered at the pleasurable feeling and laid one hand behind your head.

"This is where you'll get the most of it. Remember this." You complied, listening to him as he guided you towards the perfect spot. "Good."

You stopped yourself before you planted your sharp fangs in his smooth skin to whisper.

"I love you."

I'm sorry if your name is melissa lol

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #stardust crusaders #dio #dio brando #x reader #reader insert #writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part 3 #part 3 #dio x reader #dio brando x reader

53 notes · View notes

sophcaro · 4 years

Text

Warriors | WMatsui - Chapter 28

A long, blissful sigh escaped Mayu’s lips as she enjoyed a rest under the shade of the large branches of a maple tree. From her position at the top of the hill, she had a privileged view over the main grounds of the Shinoda clan. The head of the clan’s main residence. The samurais’ private quarters. The stables held over two hundred of horses of every color and kind: black, white, grey, chestnut, roan and bay; packhorses, workhorses and riding horses. The Buddhist temples, central places of prayer. The cemetery, where people came to mourn their lost ones, often soldiers fallen during the last great war. But also, the small houses, taverns and trading centers, that stretched in the valley as far as the eye could see.

The movement, the hustle bustle, the energy. It reminded her of her childhood. Of how the Watanabe clan used to be when it stood proudly as one of the leading authorities of the country.

The remembrance of her lost heritage made Mayu a touch melancholy, but she pushed it firmly to the back of her mind. She was content living here. Every passing day, she was grateful Shinoda-san had accepted to let them stay. At last, they were off the roads, filled with disreputable individuals ready to rob them of their scarce resources. Mayu felt safe within these walls, and wasn’t afraid to call it her new home.

She had settled into what proved an idyllic life, with only one cloud on her horizon. Her sister, Jurina, who had difficulty adjusting to their new day-to-day routine. Maybe it was her optimistic side speaking, but Mayu wished to remain positive. Believe she would come to appreciate this second chance life gave them.

The maple forest had become a sea of reds, oranges and yellows. The grass swayed in the autumn breeze, the sun bathing the foliage and flowers in its golden rays. Gone was the scorching heat of Summer. Mayu found the current temperate, neither hot or cold, pleasant. She had heard that, in this northern region, Winter could prove to be ruthless. Some years, inhabitants had even witnessed lakes freeze. The sole idea made her shiver, and she hoped her thick kimono would be enough to keep her warm. She had spent all her childhood in the South of Japan, where the Watanabe clan used to be located. Only recently, she and her sister had begun to travel norther.

Never before had she had the chance to witness lands covered with the white substance people called snow. The prospect made her secretly excited.

Mayu’s eyes fluttered close. Relaxed, her body felt heavier. She wasn’t particularly tired, but the atmosphere was serene. She drifted away. Without warning, a certain kiss came back to the forefront of her mind, and she was wide awake. Her heart leaped. She raised her hand to her lips; they quivered slightly at the touch. A shy but happy smile broke out across her face. The memory of the soft and warm kiss she had shared with the kyudo instructor was vivid and sharp.

There were gaps in her memory concerning that particular evening, and she blamed it on the excessive use of alcohol. She had always been a light drinker, and she couldn’t explain why she had gotten carried away. Despite her mind fuzzy about the course of events, she didn’t imagine the kiss. She had a hard time believing it happened. For months, her attraction for Kashiwagi-san grew, but she hesitated to make the first move.

What if her protector was gentle and caring out of duty? Mayu had seen a couple of signs suggesting a mutual romantic interest. The personal attention, the lingering eye contact, the physical proximity. And what about the evening Jurina had left the bedroom in a haste after a violent nightmare, and Kashiwagi-san, witnessing Mayu’s disarray, had invited her to her room and provided her comfort?

As days transformed into weeks, and weeks became months, the protégée and her protector grew closer than ever. Their relationship didn’t progress as much as Mayu secretly hoped, but she didn’t want either to take the risk of overstepping boundaries. What if Kashiwagi-san held herself for the same reasons, and believed a romantic relationship between them was inappropriate? The kiss, reciprocated, had put an end to any remaining doubt, and filled Mayu’s heart with happiness.

At the crackling sound of leaves and twigs stepped upon, Mayu pulled out of her reverie. Her eyelids peeled open, finding Jurina standing in front of her. Mayu blinked, coming back to reality. Her sister’s delight caught her attention. “I see some habits don’t change.”

Mayu readjusted her seated position, flustered to have been so lost in her thoughts she didn’t hear someone approach. “What do you mean?”

“It reminds me of when we were little. How often would I find you napping under a cherry tree?”

“You mean…” Mayu continued, in a slight humorous tone. “You mean when you escaped your bodyguard’s attention and explored the lands of our clan, disappearing for hours, sometimes even until sundown?”

Jurina slumped down beside her, and rested her back against the tree. “It’s not my fault if they were too slow to catch up.”

Mayu let out a small chuckle. “I’ll always remember Father’s fury when the bodyguard confessed having lost you. How many times did he change your bodyguard? Four? Five?”

“I have no idea.” Jurina shrugged her shoulders, grinning. “It never made a difference anyway.”

Mayu laughed openly. A comfortable silence fell over them, during which both enjoyed the view and each other’s presence. Once in a while, Mayu would steal a peek at Jurina when she wasn’t paying attention. She felt so lucky to have her by her side. They had endured so many hardships. The murder of their father. The downfall of their clan. Years of restless wandering. Life at the Shinoda clan was a fresh start; an opportunity to put their painful past behind.

“Why don’t you join Rena-san’s lessons? You haven’t come to the dojo. You need to learn kenjutsu.”

Mayu shifted uneasily. “Thank you, but… I’m fine with kyudo. It suits me more.”

An awkward silence followed.

“You’re spending way too much time with Kashiwagi-san. You follow her everywhere. You barely leave her side all day.”

“What are you talking about?” Mayu asked, taken aback by her manifest disapproval.

“I’m not blind,” Jurina rolled her eyes at her. “You get that dreamy expression when you interact with her. You have a crush. I hope you’re not making yourself false illusions about your relationship.”

“W-We kissed,” Mayu blurted out.

Jurina’s mouth dropped open. “What? When?!”

Mayu hesitated. “The other day, after the dinner organized by Shinoda-dono. Kashiwagi-san offered to accompany back to my room, and we ki-”

“Did she take advantage of you?!”

“W-What? No… Kashiwagi-san is not like tha-”

“I knew I couldn’t trust her!” Jurina abruptly stood up. “I warned her to not play with your feelings but she seized the opportunity as soon as she saw one! She used you during a moment of weakness! What else did she do to you?! Tell me! You have to tell me everything!”

Her outburst rendered Mayu speechless.

“Do you even remember what happened that evening?!” Jurina asked, in a slightly mocking tone. “No, of course you don’t. Let me refresh your memory. Hasegawa-san harassed you the whole evening. He made you drink again and again, and you were too nice and polite to refuse. I had no choice but to intervene to make him stop! I wouldn’t be shocked if you were half drunk when Kashiwagi-san walked you back to your room. Your beloved protector didn’t lift a finger to help you!”

Mayu was baffled by Jurina’s fury. Processing the information revealed, she put the missing pieces of the puzzle back together. Little by little, her memory of that evening became much clearer. “Kashiwagi-san couldn’t say anything! It would have caused an incident!”

“Tss. What a silly excuse,” Jurina huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “She was too much of a coward to act, and I was forced to step up.”

“Yes, and it could have gotten yourself killed! And what do you mean by you ‘warned her to not play’ with my feelings?”

“Exactly as I said,” Jurina spoke with confidence. “I had a clear conversation with her on the subject. I won’t let anyone toy with you.”

Mayu didn’t like arguing with her. Conflicts left her emotionally and mentally drained. But this was too much. She couldn’t accept nor condone what she had dared to do behind her back. “I can’t believe you did that!” Mayu sprang to her feet, anger bubbling within her. “How could you? You had no right!”

If Jurina was shocked by her raised tone, she didn’t let it show. “You’re my sister, and it’s my role to protect you. I don’t trust Kashiwagi-san. I never did. Even less after her behavior during dinner.”

“You don’t know her like I do. Kashiwagi-san is a good person!”

“You’re naïve.” Jurina wasn’t so easily deterred. “You always see the best in people. Kashiwagi-san is acting nice to get close to you. Once she gets what she wants, she’ll get rid of you without any remorse!”

“You always believe everyone has bad intentions. I know what my heart feels and that Kashiwagi-san feels the same. I don’t judge your relationship with Matsui-san!”

“I-It’s different.”

“How is it different?” Mayu countered. Her sister avoided her gaze, and Mayu guessed she had caught her off guard. “I won’t pretend I fully understand the nature of the relationship you two have. But look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have feelings for her. Or you want me to believe it’s a simple flirt? That it’s not serious?”

When the younger girl didn’t reply, Mayu added. “I think we’re both experimenting the same. We met someone who makes us feel something different; something new and strong. But at least, I’m honest about it, and not afraid of saying it.”

Mayu stood face to face with Jurina. She wanted her to realize she meant every single word, and nothing, no one, would make her change her mind. She half-expected her to come back at her with a clever retort. Against all odds, Jurina’s lips remained tightly sealed. Mayu took a step back, and slowly walked away. Their heated debate had left her shaken, and it would take her a while to recover from it, but she was also proud to have been brave enough to stand up to her convictions.

**********

“She’s totally infatuated with Kashiwagi-san,” Jurina mumbled, leaning her back against the stall. “It doesn’t make her think clearly.”

The whinny of her horse distracted her. “What?” She cocked an eyebrow at her black stallion, meeting his visible disapproval. The animal tilted his head to his left, pointing his nose towards the untouched saddle on the rack. “Yes, yes, we are leaving! You can be so impatient, sometimes!”

Jurina pushed away from the door stall and picked the saddle, throwing it on the horse. All morning, she couldn’t get out of her head her argument with Mayu. She had taken the direction of the stables, hoping a ride would help dissipate her bad mood. “Why won’t she listen to me!” She growled, putting on the bridle. “I know I’m right, right?!” She studied her horse’s reaction, hoping for support and understanding, but all she got in return was a silent stare.

Akihira-kun, the thirteen-year-old stable boy, who brushed the knotted beige mane of a horse, spoke up in a small, hesitant voice. “I-Is everything alright, Watanabe-san?”

Jurina spared him a quick glance. “Yes, yes.” She answered, attempting to sound as nonchalant as possible. A complete lie. She was anything but fine.

“And how can she compare it to my relationship with Rena-san! It’s ridiculous! It’s completely different!”

A chestnut head popped over the next-door stall. Her protector’s calm and gentle mare appeared, and twitched her ears at her in a friendly hello. The stallion disregarded Jurina’s presence and greeted the mare with a nicker, rubbing his nostrils against the head of the female horse.

“Great,” Jurina groaned, her frustration rising. “Remind me who defended you when Rena-san didn’t want you two to be together? Me! So, you could at least pretend you’re interested in my problems!”

The stallion turned his head partially towards his owner, and snorted in response.

The front door of the stables opened, and Jurina diverted her attention from the couple to the group of four men entering. Amongst them, Jurina recognized two kenjutsu apprentices, Tanaka-san and Matsuura-san. She failed to identify the two others, but by their dark blue outfits, concluded they were young shinobis at Kitahara-san’s service. Her own horse ride all forgotten, she observed the scene unfolding. The four horses saddled and prepared. The heavy, large packages. The weapons concealed beneath the kimonos or wrapped up in dark clothing.

This group of men spiked her interest.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Jurina approached them. “Going somewhere? You seem prepared for a long travel.”

“W-Watanabe-san.” Tanaka-san spun around. “Oh no, we’re only going to the village.”

“So heavily armed and food supply for what? A week? Has anyone told you before you’re a terrible liar?”

He swallowed nervously. “Matsui-dono told us not to disclose any information.”

“And if you’re not aware of it, it means Matsui-dono doesn’t trust you enough,” Matsuura-san chimed in, snickering.

Jurina glared at him. Her hand travelled toward the hilt of her katana, loosening it from its guard. Her protector had asked her to work on her temper, and to socialize with the other trainees. On that first point, Jurina had made efforts. Did she sometimes lose her calm? Yes, she did, but she had made great progress. Three months ago, she would already have pulled out her sword and challenged him to a duel.

Concerning her relationship with the other apprentices, it was a different story. At first, any opportunity was good to challenge them into spontaneous fights. She relished the adrenaline coursing through her veins when their swords clashed together. Eventually, her thirst depleted to a more reasonable level, and she was satisfied with the daily trainings and regular tournaments. Jurina had neutral feelings for the majority of her fellow companions. She hadn’t developed any friendship, but some had owed her respect, such as Tanaka-san, whom she considered as a valuable opponent. However, if there was one trainee she remained in permanent conflict with, it was the pretentious and self-assured Matsuura-san.

Jurina released her hold on the tsuka of her katana, calming down. Ignoring the provocation, she addressed Tanaka-san. “You’re going on a mission?”

“Yes, we are,” he confessed, a little reluctantly. “We were ordered to patrol the clan’s southern border with Ikeda-san and Abe-san.”

Jurina’s eyes widened at the revelation. The southern border. It was where she and Rena had been attacked. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Jurina thought of interrogating him further, but refrained. He probably had been told the strict minimum. The group mounted their horses, and trotted out of the stables. Why didn’t her protector warn her about this mission? And why wasn’t she part of it? As the four riders vanished in the distance, she decided to have an explanation.

**********

Jurina made a beeline to the samurais’ quarters, discovering Rena’s bedroom empty. She moved to the dojo, finding the kenjutsu instructor equally absent. For an instant, she wondered if she had briefly left the clan. No, it wasn’t possible. Her protector had to be within the grounds of the clan: her horse was still present in the stables. Jurina checked a few other locations, such as the courtyard and the garden, without any success. After half an hour of fruitless research, she came to the evidence: she needed to question a guard.

The first guard proved completely useless, having not a single clue about her location. The second one she interrogated provided her, at last, with the information she desperately sought: the kenjutsu instructor was in the council chambers. Jurina took its direction, feeling slightly foolish for omitting that place. Her protector had regular meetings with the head of the clan, and lately, her presence was requested on a daily basis.

Jurina arrived at destination, but was disappointed to find the doors shut. Jurina hesitated: come back later or wait? In the end, she chose the second option. Ignoring the two guards eyeing her suspiciously, she made herself comfortable in the waiting area, praying it wouldn’t take too long.

Time passed slowly, so slowly she found her patience strained. She never had been the most patient person in the world – Mayu would be the first to attest to it - but this meeting was unusually long. Nevermind. She would have to postpone this conversation to later. Jurina raised from her chair, decided to not wait another minute, when the doors opened. An advisor hurried out, his arms filled with scrolls, and Jurina used the opportunity to take a peek inside the room.

Astonishment touched her. The head of the clan was nowhere to be seen. Behind the office where she usually handled meetings and claims, was present the one and only master kenjutsu. Head bent down, she was focused on the table heaped with papers, listening to the male advisor who stood beside her and gave her instructions.

Jurina considered her next move. Should she make her presence known? Or leave her protector to her occupations? No, she had waited long enough to turn back. She approached the entrance, but was halted by a guard. “Do you have a meeting? Matsui-dono asked not to be disturbed.”

“No, I don’t. But I want to talk to her.”

“What is it?” Rena’s inquiry sounded from inside the room.

“It’s Watanabe-san,” the guard announced, turning in her direction. “She wants to speak to you. I told her you wished not to be disturbed.”

“It’s fine. Let her in.”

Jurina walked in and, as the doors closed behind her, didn’t wait to point out the oddity of the situation. “Shinoda-san is not here?”

“Momijimori no kami dono is unwell, and is resting in her quarters. In the meantime, I’m assuming her obligations.”

Jurina frowned. “Is she sick?”

“It’s a simple allergic reaction to the season.” Her protector’s tone was controlled, but Jurina detected a hint of concern in her tone.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” with a slight joking tone, Jurina went on. “If anything were to happen to the head of the clan, you would make an excellent replacement. You’re practically already doing the job for her.”

The advisor’s features contorted with shock and stupor. Rena pursed her lips in slight disapproval, yet a look of veiled amusement crossed her face. “Forgive my protégée’s erratic sense of humor. Obviously, she wishes no harm to Shinoda-dono. Am I wrong, Watanabe-san?”

“Of course not,” Jurina answered, suppressing a smile. “I hope Shinoda-dono will be on the road of recovery in no time.” She continued, not losing sight of her primary objective. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Matsui-dono has a busy schedule. I’m sure this conversation can wait,” the advisor intervened firmly.

“Yes…” Rena’s voice trailed away, with embarrassment. “Suzuki-san is right. I have all this paperwork to finish by the end of the day.”

“It won’t be long,” Jurina tried to sound reassuring.

Rena could sense her advisor’s eyes boring into her, pressuring her, but she felt guilty for denying her protégée’s desire to speak. “Alright.” Rena relented, and lowered on the table the document she was reading. “What did you wish to talk about?”

Jurina’s gaze drifted from her to the advisor, and Rena deciphered the meaning of the message conveyed. “Suzuki-san. Would you mind leaving us?”

The advisor exchanged with her a glance of surprise, not making any secret of his discontent. His mouth opened as if to speak, and it took him all his self-restraint to not object, bowing slightly, and leaving the council chambers.

“I don’t have a lot of spare time…” Rena’s face creased; her stress palpable. “It’s not I don’t wish to speak to you, but this added workload was unexpected. The Autumnal season seems to affect Shinoda-san’s health… more than usual. She’s been unwell for the past few days.”

“Is it true you sent Tanaka-san and Matsuura-an on a mission?” Jurina didn’t intend to be so blunt, but the question had been nagging her all day. She couldn’t hold herself any longer; she was in desperate needs of answers.

“H-How do you…” Rena stared at her, astounded. “Yes, I did. A couple of days ago, Shinoda-san organized a meeting. She asked me and Kitahara-san to gather and send a group on a patrolling mission. She wants to make sure the frontiers of the clan are well secured. It’s simple routine.”

“We both know it’s more than that. She sent them in the South, where we were attacked.” Jurina confronted her with the truth. “Why didn’t you choose me? I’m your top trainee. I was the best fit.”

“Tanaka-san and Matsuura-san have proved their value. Choosing my protégée would send the wrong message. I didn’t want Shinoda-san or the other trainees to believe I was partial in my decision.”

Rena sounded extremely convincing, but Jurina didn’t buy it. “It’s not the real reason. You didn’t choose me because you don’t trust me. You don’t have enough faith in me to complete a mission without messing up.”

“Jurina-san… No, it’s not true.”

Jurina drew closer to the table, placed her hands flat on the surface and leaned down inches away from her. “You think I’m uncontrollable, don’t you? That I can’t follow orders?” She studied her, trying to read her response. “You know how much I hate being cooped up in this place! I told you… I opened myself to you. This mission, it was exactly what I needed! I needed the distraction!”

Jurina glanced away, overcome with embarrassment. This wasn’t right. She was doing it again. Losing control over her emotions. Precisely what she fought so hard against. She breathed in and out, calming her fast-beating heart. It wasn’t the image she wanted to project. Not to her protector. She wanted to prove she changed, and wasn’t anymore the impetuous child of their first encounter.

“I feared you would be unhappy if it came to your attention. It’s true, I didn’t want to send you. But it’s not for the reason you think. Of course, you have issues to work on. Your temper, your independent and stubborn personality. But you had all the physical and fighting skills required to fulfil this mission.”

“Then why?” Jurina said, allowing her frustration to leak into her tone. “Why didn’t you send me?”

Rena grew rigid and tense, and drew her attention back to the scroll in front of her. “I don’t think it’s the appropriate time for this conversation.”

Jurina felt a stirring of anger. “No, I want to know!”

“Jurina-san, please.” Rena cast her a pleading look. “We can talk about it later. But now is not the best moment.”

“Why?!” Jurina slapped her hand on the table. “It’s not fair, Rena-san! I deserved to go on that mission! You had no right to-”

“I don’t want to lose you!” Rena blurted out, her voice shaking angrily. “Two years ago, I lost someone. It was supposed to be an easy mission, but things didn’t turn out as planned. She never made it back alive to the clan! She died! I don’t want the same thing to happen to you! Can you understand that?!”

Shivers racked Jurina’s body; the confession destabilized her. She withdrew her hands from the table and pulled back. Her protector’s deep brown eyes glittered, and brimmed with unshed tears. What was she supposed to say? Or to act? When the silence stretched unbearably long, Jurina did the first thing that came to her mind. She reached out, touching Rena’s hand. As she held her palm, fingers tremble inside hers, and Jurina met her watering eyes.

“You’ve come to mean so much to me,” Rena’s voice crackled; a tear slid down her cheek. “I cannot accept to lose you too.”

Jurina was about to protest, before realizing the irony of the situation. Who was she to disagree with her protector’s desire to protect the ones she cared about, when she acted the same way with Mayu? “I understand you want to protect me.” Her voice was calmer and gentler when she spoke up. “But I can protect mys-”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Forgive me for the disturbance, Matsui-dono.” The advisor, Suzuki-san, stopped at the entrance, and bowed in respect. “The emissary of the Yokohama clan has arrived. Will you receive him now, or should I make him wait?”

“Oh, right.” At the reminder, Rena straightened up in her seat. Noticing her hand still linked with Jurina’s, she gently extracted her fingers from her hold. “Let the emissary know I will receive him immediately.”

The discussion was over. The thought of protesting didn’t cross Jurina’s mind. She couldn’t delay her protector from her obligations. Jurina slowly backed away from the table, not breaking eye contact with her. “Maybe…” she paused for a breath, hesitant. “Maybe later we’ll have the opportunity to continue this conversation?”

The master kenjutsu didn’t hide her surprise. She didn’t reply immediately, before giving her a small silent nod of consent.

Jurina’s face relaxed into a faint smile of relief.

She spun on her heel and retraced her steps back to the exit. At the doors, she marked a stop, and glanced over her shoulder. The male advisor, Suzuki-san, had already reached her protector’s side. Jurina was too far away to distinguish the content of their conversation, but imagined he was prepping her for the upcoming meeting. Jurina observed her protector attentively, amazed by her ability to regain her composure. In the blink of an eye, her demeanor had altered entirely, her serious, work-hardened expression not revealing an inch of what had transpired in this room.

**********

Every evening, Rena had a ritual.

Her daily chores done, she bid goodbye to Momijimori no kami, and took the direction of the samurais’ quarters. After a hard day’s work – the life of a master kenjutsu anything but restful - it was often sundown by the time she joined her bedroom. Her first action was to lit the candle on the small table, wait for the flame to grow and illuminate her surroundings, and move towards the weapons rack.

Detaching the katana and wakizashi from her belt, she disposed of them and proceeded in disrobing. She removed her hakama and kimono, swapping her daily clothes for her nightly yukata. Before laying down on the futon, she checked her tanto was secured under the pillow, before falling into a deep slumber, exhaustion gaining her.

This evening followed the same path, for one exception. As Rena removed her weapons and placed them onto the rack, she fixed the ninjato laying at the top. She tried not to dwell on it, but was unable to look away. The familiar sword brought her back to the conversation that occurred in the council chambers, one that triggered painful memories to reemerge.

Rena took if off the rack; her fingers slid along the surface of the 30 inches flat blade. That moment of her past was supposed to remain buried deep within her. Only two people, Shinoda-dono and Kitahara-san, had borne witness to the scene, and seen how devastated Airi’s death had left her. The monster who took control. Her delirium and destructive fury. It wasn’t a memory she was proud of, and wished she could erase it from her mind forever. Unfortunately, it still haunted her.

People praised her benevolence and good manners, her sound education and ability to never let her emotions cloud her judgement. Aside from her misconduct two years ago, she had kept them under control. Her encounter with the young Watanabe sister had disrupted the stability of her perfectly organized daily life. After the confession that left her mouth in the council chambers, she didn’t recognize herself. It wasn’t like her to disclose such personal information. The weakness she had displayed. It left her both disturbed and ashamed, and she was lucky only one person had been testimony of it.

“May I come in?”

The familiar feminine voice, hesitant behind her bedroom door, distracted her from her thoughts. Rena cleared her head, and carefully replaced the ninjato back in place. At the request, her mouth lifted into a smile. “Since when you do my protégée ask for my permission to enter?”

The fusuma panel slowly slid open. “Since I learned it’s not appropriate to barge into someone’s bedroom without their approval.” Jurina said, mischief flickering in her eyes. “So, is that a yes? You haven’t answered.”

Rena suppressed the urge to laugh. “Yes, Jurina-san. You may come in.”

Jurina stepped inside the room, closing the fusuma panel behind her, and locked her gaze with hers. They fell into silence and Rena turned around, busying herself with the untying of her hakama. She convinced herself she was simply following her nightly ritual, but revealing secrets of her past had left her vulnerable. She didn’t know how to confront the situation. Rena fumbled with the hakama, the knot resisting her. Her fingers, usually so clever and deft, seemed to have lost all dexterity.

“Do you need any help?” Jurina moved behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist, cradling her against her. Rena stiffened in surprise. “It’s funny. You always seem to have troubles with your hakama. Last time, you couldn’t tie it properly. Now, you have difficulty removing it. What would you do without me?”

It took her a few seconds to recall what she referred to. That day at the lake rushed back with vivid clarity, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She turned around in the embrace, and frowned at her protégée’s wick grin. Jurina’s hands didn’t wait to work on the front himo of her hakama, untying it, then moved to the back. Rena watched as she followed the process, respecting the steps, impressed by her calm and diligence.

“I see I don’t have anything more to teach you.” Rena smiled at her warmly.

While a smile appeared at the corner of Jurina’s lips, she wore a pensive and serious expression. “You know… it’s alright. I’m not upset.”

There was a startled pause. “You’re not?” Rena bit her lip, attempting to keep her voice casual. “Then I guess I must have imagined your anger when you entered the council chambers and interrogated me about the mission.”

Jurina’s expression clouded with unease. “Yes, I was angry at you. Upset, disappointed, and angry. But I’m not anymore.”

Rena vacillated between disconcert and disbelief. “But you have all the right to be. You deserved to go on that mission.”

“You explained yourself. You told me about your past. After what you went through, I understand you would want to protect me.”

Rena stared wordlessly at her, uncomprehending.

“Nothing will happen to me. I’m too stubborn to die,” Jurina said casually. Her job done on the hakama, she took a few steps backward, and sat down on the edge of the futon. “Besides, I’m counting on you to teach me everything you know. I won’t be satisfied until I managed to beat you. So, you need to fulfil your part of the bargain.”

The teasing in Jurina’s tone made her relax, and she smiled in spite of her worry. “Didn’t you defeat me in the forest?”

Jurina waved a hand in dismissal. “No, that didn’t count. I want to beat you in fair fight, without any trick.”

“Please don’t be offended, but I’m afraid you’ll need a few more years for that,” Rena said softly and kindly, but truthfully. “It took me years to perfect my technique, and acquire enough experience to defeat my own instructor.”

“Years? That’s perfect. I’m not going anywhere.”

Rena sent her a small, doubtful look. “You have enough patience to wait for so long?”

“Ah yes, that’s one of the many things I need to work on,” Jurina chuckled, nodding in agreement.

Rena gave her a knowing smile. Dragging her eyes away from her, she stepped out of her hakama, collected it from the floor and neatly folded it on the chair. She reached for the belt of her kimono, aware of her protégée peering at her, but didn’t feel uneasy under her scrutiny. Halfway through the process, she gave her a sideways glance. The amusement had died from Jurina’s eyes, and Rena saw something new and deeply serious within them she couldn’t decipher.

Jurina rose from the futon and closed the distance between them, catching her off guard when she gently pulled her into her arms. “I know you’re troubled by what happened in the council chambers.” She whispered close to her ear, her breath warm against her cheek. “You don’t you like being vulnerable in front of others, and I understand the feeling. I don’t have the habit to confide in people. I’ve never been good at comforting people either,” Jurina confessed awkwardly, struggling to find the right words. “When I told you how much I felt lost and lonely here, you didn’t judge me.”

She pulled back enough to gaze into her eyes. “Today, Mayu told me something that made me think. There are many things I don’t understand. Things… that confuse me. But I know I’m a better person when I’m with you. You said you wanted to help me feel more at home, and I want to try. Not only for my sister’s sake, but because I think it’s worth it. I think you’re worth it, Rena-san.”

Rena’s heart accelerated.

Jurina reached for the front of her kimono and began to detach it. Rena reacted on instinct and seized her hand, interrupting her. She expected the younger girl to fight against her hold, but she didn’t resist. Rena was used to her protégée’s dominant personality and possessive moves. Tonight, she could sense the dynamic between them had changed. She felt her protégée’s desire for her, but she showed more patience, her gaze soft as a caress as it traveled over her face.

A shiver came over Rena, and a knot welled up in her stomach. Jurina leaned closer, her lips paused inches from hers, offering an invitation without taking any liberties. The decision would be all hers. Rena hesitated for the briefest of moments, as her self-preservation instincts warred with her heart’s desire. She knew where this was leading if she didn’t push her back. Her heart won out. She closed the gap separating them. Their lips brushed. She could feel her heart beat faster as Jurina’s mouth moved gently against hers. They had kissed before, but never like that. It made her go weak in the knees, and Rena responded to her kisses with equal tenderness.

Her grip on her protégée’s hand diminished, conveying her consent for her to keep on. Jurina broke the kiss and drew back slightly. Her face brightened with happiness, and Rena gave her a shy smile. The younger girl took her hand in hers, leading her towards the futon. Jurina sat down and gently pulled her down to sit on her lap, and she didn’t oppose any resistance. Without haste, Jurina untied her belt, and swept aside the fabric of her kimono. She feathered her lips along the valley between her breasts, and Rena felt her hands slide over her arms as she freed her from her kimono.

Rena felt the air caress her skin. Her touch claim her. Jurina’s kisses bathed her in delicious intoxication. Her senses roared. Rena’s hands plunged into her hair, fingers tangling, getting accustomed to the sensations of pleasure coursing through her veins. She tried to fight for a minimum of self-control, but found no desire to back out of her embrace, and allowed herself to give free rein to her feelings.

Jurina lifted her off her lap, and laid her gently down the futon. Rena settled back, enjoying the feel of her arms around her. Jurina swooped down, her lips brushed her neck, her cheek, and found her mouth, kissing her. The friction of the fabric of her protégée’s kimono against her skin reminded her that one of them remained fully clothed.

“Is there a reason why I’m the only one naked?” Rena murmured in between kisses, tugging at her protégée’s kimono.

The latter removed herself from her lips and looked at her, visibly entertained by the complaint received. She rose from the futon and undressed, keeping her eyes locked on her face, letting her clothes fall on the floor without ceremony. Rena found herself openly staring at her nude form, admiring her shapely body in the pale moonlight that came through the fusuma leading to the garden.

Jurina climbed back into the futon, reclaiming her position on top of her. “Better?”

Rena reached up, capturing her chin with her thumb and finger, tugging her down for another soft lip touch. “Yes, much better.”

Despite the dominant position, Jurina’s touch was not aggressive or demanding. It was remarkably gentle, coaxing. Jurina’s mouth wandered up the tingling cord of her neck. With a slow, leisurely touch, her fingers roamed over her curves, and she explored her body as if she had all the time in the world. When she touched her breasts and traced their roundness, her nipples surged at the intimacy.

Rena softly moaned with pleasure.

Their eyes met through the dim light, and Rena wondered if the other girl wasn’t holding herself. Taking things slowly for her sake. Rena studied her, trying to obtain a response, but didn’t detect any sign of frustration. On the contrary; all she witnessed was the similar raw pleasure etched on her features. It set her heart pounding. When Jurina dipped her head to recapture her mouth, she met her halfway.

Soon, they both were back in a passionate embrace, their naked bodies entwined, gently making love. While Rena’s hands glided over her back and shoulders, Jurina’s hands left her skin hot and tingling. Tonight, Rena was witnessing her protégée’s softer side. But if those last three months had taught her one thing, it was that Jurina was a complex, multifaceted person. And she was eager to discover all aspects of her personality.

#wmatsui #matsui jurina #matsui rena #wmatsui fanfic #Watanabe Mayu #Kashiwagi Yuki #SKE48 #AKB48 #Warriors #chapter 28

39 notes · View notes

atinytokki · 4 years

Text

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐥𝐥

Chapter 8: A Requiem

Seonghwa screamed into the hand uselessly, and arms stiff with cramps flew up to try to defend himself, scratching his attacker as deeply as he could. His eyes were squeezed together so tightly, it took him a moment to realise the blindfold was gone.

Don’t take your blindfold off. Under any circumstances.

All he could do while his struggles weakened was clench his eyes tightly shut.

He was powerless.

“Seonghwa! Seonghwa, stop.”

A voice whispered back at him, and he found himself relaxing.

“...Hongjoong?”

No, it was his mind playing tricks.

“Yes, it’s me Seonghwa. It’s alright, you can open your eyes.”

Open his eyes? No, not under any circumstances, any circumstances at all...

But it was Hongjoong.

Unless it was a trick, unless it was San with a trick from Babylon—

“Prove it.”

“Not this again,” the voice muttered, the fleeting annoyance so familiar. “How about... you’ve been practicing a song. For when the officers ask you to help them sleep.”

Seonghwa carefully blinked his eyes open.

There was Hongjoong.

There were a few new scratches on his face, but it was still him.

Relief stronger than any Seonghwa had ever felt washed over him and he practically collapsed into him. Hongjoong held him there for a moment, graciously refraining from commenting on the soaked blindfold he was holding.

“How did you know that?” Seonghwa whispered. Not what he had expected to be asking first, but he let it out nonetheless.

“You think no one can hear you, but you forgot we share a room.” The chuckles escaping Hongjoong were contagious, and Seonghwa found himself laughing too.

He didn’t realise he was crying as well until Hongjoong pulled back and scanned his face with concern.

“I’ve got you now, it’s alright. San is being taken care of and-”

“M-Mingi and Yunho!” Seonghwa hated how scared he sounded, but he had been terrified. “Where are they?”

“Jongho and Yeosang found them just over there,” Hongjoong pointed but Seonghwa didn’t even look. He couldn’t look anywhere other than Hongjoong’s face, testing again and again that it was real. “They’re getting them to the crow’s nest. Sorry, we tried to be quiet but I suppose we’ve just scared you. Come with me, I’ll take you up there too—”

“But San-”

“-Is being taken care of, I told you. Wooyoung and Eden have him cornered by now.” Hongjoong began trying to help Seonghwa to his feet.

Stiff limbs protested, and Seonghwa blushed at the fact that he had to be helped up like a frightened child. But the fear he had felt, the terror engulfing his senses in what he thought were his last moments... it was almost too much to handle. And it lingered still, even as Hongjoong squeezed his hand and led him into the lamplight.

Hongjoong’s words finally caught up to him.

Wooyoung was alright.

“Eden...?”

“I guess you’ve missed a lot,” Hongjoong’s voice was soft and contemplative. “We’ll fill you in when this is taken care of.”

Gradually as they reached the upper decks, Seonghwa detached himself from Hongjoong. He’d experienced a moment of weakness, but he was fine without holding someone’s hand now.

Seonghwa suddenly remembered he was supposed to be upset with Hongjoong for leaving him.

“Is Babylon dead, at least?”

Hongjoong simply nodded, beginning his ascent of the rigging after a scan of the main deck. Clearly, he sensed the shift in the atmosphere, judging by how he didn’t look back to check if Seonghwa was following. He’d been scolded by him enough to know when the storm was about to break.

“You shouldn’t have left like that,” Seonghwa let it out quietly but insistently. “Especially bringing Yeosang and Jongho with you, you could’ve all been killed and—”

“We’re not doing this right now,” Hongjoong turned around and gave him a pointed look. “Chew me out for it later, but I did the right thing.”

“The reckless thing,” Seonghwa amended, grumbling mostly to himself. It had been awhile since he’d climbed as high as the crow’s nest, but his pride wouldn’t let him ask for Hongjoong’s help now.

Yunho peeked his head over the side of the crow’s nest and beckoned them in, visibility relieved that Seonghwa had made it out of there. He and Mingi spewed apologies that Seonghwa waved off, promising them he was fine and nothing happened.

It... It was true, technically.

“I didn’t see San in the lower levels or anywhere on the main deck,” Hongjoong explained once all six of them were crammed into the small space. “Where is he?”

“I’m fairly certain he backed himself into your cabin, Captain,” Yeosang explained from where he sat, clearly agitated, in the middle of the nest with his arms tight around him. It had slipped Seonghwa’s mind until now that Yeosang was afraid of heights.

Mingi trained his gun on the door far below them. “He won’t find us up here, but if he does... we’ll make sure he doesn’t reach us.”

Seonghwa swallowed and turned to look at the door. Poor San was still in there, fighting the demon from inside. All they needed was for him to regain enough control to stop this game of cat and mouse until they exorcised him. On second thought, that was quite a demanding list, but one thing at a time.

Seonghwa’s intent staring at the door to the Captain’s cabin was halted when something pressed into his side. He turned to see Hongjoong holding out his coat for him. “What? Why?”

Hongjoong blinked at him like it was obvious. “Hyung, you’re practically in shock,” Jongho explained slowly for him. “You’ve been hyperventilating for the past five minutes, and you’re shivering as if it was snowing out.”

Oh. No wonder everyone was looking at him like that.

Seonghwa looked at the still-present gooseflesh on his arms and reluctantly accepted the coat as it was slung over his shoulders, but not without a glare at Jongho for the wisecrack.

As loath as he was to accept anything from Hongjoong now that he was angry with him, he had to concede that it was helpful.

He felt his trembling slowing down and his breaths even out, and everything hit him at once. The adrenaline crashing and exhaustion taking hold of him. All that pent up energy he had channeled towards staying alive left his system in one fell swoop.

Soon, it was hard to keep his eyelids open and he barely lifted a finger when the others encouraged him to lay down next to Yeosang.

He watched Mingi’s gun like a lifeline, making sure he didn’t fire it until the last possible second. They would not throw San’s entire life away.

That was his last thought as he finally let sleep swallow him.

...

Wooyoung’s arm ached in its sling and his head was still pounding from the blows it had received, but at least the blood had been wiped off his face and he wasn’t facing San alone now.

He shifted his eyes to the pirate accompanying him as they walked up through the lower decks. Eden was recognisable from his wanted posters, but his face was softer and less angular than the artists portrayed. The more Wooyoung looked, the more he realised Eden was just a normal man.

His face revealed nothing, but there was a storm of emotions swimming in his eyes that made Wooyoung uncomfortable. He considered whether attempting conversation was a good idea or not. Eden evidently had no inclination to.

Wooyoung wondered if the pirate’s preference for silence was the reason the mainland never heard of his return from the dead.

And a good thing, too. Wooyoung remembered the hysteria over the dreaded pirate. If the Navy got their hands on him or his apprentice, it was surely straight to the gallows for them.

“Are all of you children?”

Wooyoung looked up at Eden as his thoughts dissipated. “Do you consider me a child?” He asked quietly instead of answering the question.

Eden scanned his face for a moment and nodded.

“Well, in that case... No, not all of us. All the officers and many of the crew are my age or younger. But there are older men to do the heavy lifting and various tasks.”

“Why?” Eden sighed, having difficulty grasping the concept. “Piracy is dangerous.”

“We’re here nonetheless,” Wooyoung responded firmly, ascending the last step and coming out on the main deck. “So we might as well be around people we can trust.”

Eden didn’t respond, but Wooyoung could see that he was still grappling with the idea of children running a ship.

Funny. One would think the infamous pirate Eden would approve of such an endeavour, especially one led by his apprentice.

A strangled scream from the captain’s cabin grabbed Wooyoung’s attention. He and Eden sprinted the few steps between the hatch and the cabin and peeked inside to see what was going on.

Wooyoung breathed a sigh of relief.

San was alone, grabbing his head and stumbling around, but at least he was alone. Seonghwa was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m assuming you know what to say to him?” Eden asked, turning to look at Wooyoung expectantly.

“No, not really,” Wooyoung admitted, reaching for the handle and wincing when it squeaked at being turned.

Eden stifled a groan behind him. This was suicide.

San didn’t even notice them enter, still lost in his own mind as he tugged at his hair and curled up on the floor. The room was a mess, parchment and writing supplies thrown around every which way, books strewn over the carpet, and furniture tipped onto its side. There was a shattered bottle of rum in the corner, and Wooyoung stepped cautiously over the glass shards as he approached San.

“San, are you in there?”

His head lifted shakily and he turned his eyes on Wooyoung. They were San’s eyes, the real San.

“Help...” he whispered, reaching up with a trembling hand before freezing mid-air.

Suddenly his face hardened again and his eyes glowed red. The reaching hand became a fist that swung upwards but missed its target as Eden yanked Wooyoung backwards and out of harm’s way.

“Stay back,” the pirate ordered, whipping out his gun and aiming it at the demon as he shakily stood and leered at them.

“Don’t shoot!” Wooyoung reached for the Eden’s arm and pressed it down, lowering the weapon.

“Right,” the demon laughed, San’s face twisting in a wolffish grin. “Don’t shoot, Eden.”

The pirate’s face clouded with anger and he stepped forward to block Wooyoung from any attack, but didn’t point his gun again.

San opened his mouth to say something else but halted again, eyes clearing into San’s once more as pain broke on his face.

“He’s fluctuating,” Wooyoung cried, shaking Eden’s arm until he removed it to let him run to San. “I don’t know how long we have between bouts...”

“Wooyoung, help,” San whimpered, sinking to the floor again in tears. “He’s too strong.”

“You have to fight him, San,” Wooyoung insisted, grabbing his hands before he tangled them in his mop of hair.

As San began to calm down, Wooyoung cocked his head in confusion. There was a streak of white in San’s hair that hadn’t been there before. “What’s this?”

“He-he’s merging with me,” San gasped, shaking his head in helplessness. “Combining the two of us, and it hurts Wooyoung, please... you have to help...”

“Y-You’re doing great, San,” Wooyoung stuttered, swivelling back around to send a panicked glance at Eden. Eden shook his head and lifted his hands in surrender. Neither of them had the slightest idea what to do.

“No!” San screamed and squeezed Wooyoung’s hands so hard he couldn’t feel them. “He’s taking over again!”

Eden started forward to protect Wooyoung again as San twitched and transformed once more into the demon’s vessel.

“Take me home!” It screeched, red eyes fiery and wild. His veins were black again but a war had broken out on his face. The two entities clashing inside were becoming one, their intentions mixing together. “Take me home immediately!”

“Why?” Wooyoung whispered, wrenching his hands out of the angry grip.

Why wasn’t the demon asking for Seonghwa again? What did he have to gain from going back to the mainland?

“Wooyoung, stay back,” Eden warned, aiming his weapon but leaving the safety on.

“I’ll kill San,” the demon growled, suddenly still and quiet. “If you don’t take me home, I’ll kill San.”

“Why do you want to go home?” Wooyoung was trembling but remained in position, kneeling next to the volatile entity in front of him. “It’s still far away, we can’t just—”

“My sister! I need to see her, she’s dying!”

The demon’s scream grated on Wooyoung’s ears and he flinched away. It was San’s sister, not the demon’s. The two must be fusing faster than they thought.

Eden couldn’t stand it any longer and placed a hand on Wooyoung’s arm to pull him up.

The moment he was distracted, San reached up and grabbed the gun, wrenching it out of Eden’s grasp.

Wooyoung stumbled to his feet and was immediately blocked by Eden. “Give that back,” the pirate warned. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Take me home or I’ll shoot,” San gasped, standing and pressing the gun to his own temple. Wooyoung covered his mouth in shock and pushed past Eden so they were on either side of San. He was too scared to grab him in case he pulled the trigger, but he wouldn’t just hide behind Eden when he could try and do something instead.

“You don’t want to do that,” he enunciated slowly. “You’ll die too if you kill San—”

“I’ll say it one more time and if you don’t do it, I’ll kill him.” The gun was steady in the demon’s grip as he flicked the safety off.

“Alright, we’ll do it!” Wooyoung yelled in response, blinking back the gathering tears. He didn’t have time to think through every option and provide the demon with a rational response. He had to save San and he had to do it now. “We’ll take you home to see your sister. Just hand over the gun.”

The demon squinted at him in suspicion, the blood red in San’s eyes darkening for a moment before he began to lower the gun. “Promise!” He snapped.

“Yes,” Wooyoung blinked back tears and held out his hand to accept the gun. “I promise. You have my word.”

...

“I gave him my word. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Wooyoung rested his case once San had been led back to his cell and he and Eden had climbed up to the crow’s nest to meet the others.

“But what about this book?” Jongho pressed, waving the little book as if to remind him. “There’s a spell in here somewhere that can help us, I just can’t read the language it’s in.”

“There is someone who can!” Mingi suddenly interjected. “Remember the mystic we spoke to? Her island isn’t far from here.”

Wooyoung didn’t remember this woman, and neither did Yeosang, but they had heard passing mentions of her. The ATEEZ had stopped at her island for guidance on finding Eden and healing Jongho before Yeosang and Wooyoung had joined the ranks.

Jongho’s eyes lit up at the idea and he turned to Hongjoong for permission. “What do you say, Captain? Do we have a heading?”

“Now, hang on,” Wooyoung interjected. “I just promised San we’d head back towards the mainland! Surely he’ll know if we alter course and visit some witch hut—“

“San lived on an island just off the mainland, didn’t he?”

Everyone turned to Eden in surprise as he posed the question.

Once the shock wore off that he was actually contributing something, Wooyoung shot back angrily, “Why are you talking about him like he’s already dead?”

“He lives here now, doesn’t he?” Eden scoffed at him. “I didn’t mean to imply that he’s dead, only that he doesn’t live there anymore.”

“Alright, everyone,” Yunho chuckled nervously. “Let’s calm down, shall we?”

Both parties took a noticeable deep breath and Eden turned away, allowing Hongjoong to step in.

“We don’t make deals with demons, Wooyoung. That’s just asking for more trouble.”

“We’re already in trouble as it is! Can’t you see, he can still kill San and take Seonghwa by force.” Seonghwa recoiled where he lay at the mention of his name but Wooyoung plowed through. “He’s practically handing us a way to distract him while we find this mystic, and you don’t want to take it?”

“Wooyoung, there are so many things that could go wrong—”

“No, I’m not buying this,” Wooyoung suddenly stood, ignoring all the eyes that traced his movement. “Not from you. What’s the real reason? Why aren’t you jumping on this opportunity?”

Hongjoong simply sighed and let his eyes fall shut.

“You don’t want to risk going to the mainland, do you?” Realisation swept him and Wooyoung took a step back from the force of it. “Not now that Babylon is dead and the Navy is surely suspicious as to why.”

Babylon dead, Eden alive, so many moving parts... Of course Hongjoong wouldn’t want to risk marching straight into enemy territory, where the reward on his head alone was enough money to last all of them the rest of their lives.

Hongjoong knew what he was getting at, and rushed to defend himself.

“Wooyoung, this isn’t out of self-preservation. I have a very bad feeling about this entire idea and listening to those bad feelings is what has kept me alive this long.”

“I don’t think there’s an alternative,” Wooyoung insisted, sitting back down. “We need to split up.”

“It could work,” Yeosang said after a moment of silence. His gaze remained fixed on his hands that were clasped in front of him and he continued, “Some of us breaking off in a longboat to find the mystic, and the ship continuing on towards San’s island.”

“I’d like to volunteer to find the mystic, Captain,” Jongho announced. No surprise there.

“Me too,” Yunho added, smirking in Jongho’s direction. “We both know you’re not the best at tacking, Jongho.”

“I want to send Mingi with you as well,” Hongjoong murmured after thinking about it for a moment. “Listen to him in my stead. And Eden...”

Eden perked up in surprise at being addressed with orders again.

“Eden, I’m asking you to go with them. Look after them like your own.”

Eden pursed his lips, locked in a silent conversation with Hongjoong as their eyes found each other’s. “Alright,” he said softly and nodded. He would have volunteered to go with them anyway.

Wooyoung felt awkward for his outburst and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Yeosang reached for the netting with a shaking hand.

“Can we go back down now?”

...

Ten minutes later, Wooyoung and Yeosang found themselves seated in the Captain’s cabin for an impromptu meeting, watching Hongjoong clean up and trying to stay awake to hear what he had to say.

“I don’t want anyone speaking to San unless absolutely necessary,” he instructed first.

Wooyoung nodded in agreement. He had no desire to talk to San after what had happened earlier.

“And someone needs to be with Seonghwa at all times, preferably one of you if I can’t be here.”

Again, it made sense, seeing as Wooyoung and Yeosang would be the only other officers left on the ship once the others left for the mystic’s island.

“Is that really necessary?” Seonghwa groaned in protest from his bunk and all three of them turned in surprise. “I thought he was asleep,” Yeosang mumbled.

“Yes, it is,” Hongjoong insisted, sweeping the glass shards into a bin. “San’s already broken out once, I’m taking absolutely no chances this time.”

“As long as I don’t have to be blindfolded the entire time,” Seonghwa sighed and turned over, diving deeper under the blankets.

“San’s hometown is almost a fortnight’s sail if we don’t hit bad weather,” Yeosang informed them, spreading a map on the desk as soon as it was righted and returned to its position.

Wooyoung let him and Hongjoong inspect the charts and went to reshelve the scattered books, feeling guilty for just sitting there while work was being done.

“It’s been a long 24 hours,” Yeosang sighed as he and Hongjoong finished returning trinkets to their desk drawers.

When the room was back in order, they returned to their own beds and exhaled for the first time that day.

Yeosang was right. It had been a very long 24 hours.

Hongjoong was bone-wearied and ready to drop. Last night he hadn’t even slept properly due to the nightmares and conversation with Seonghwa after. Then the day had begun with landfall on the abandoned island, preparation for the ambush which lasted the entire day, battle at sunset, an infiltration and murder the first half of the night and demon possession and hide and seek in the dark the second half.

They were all collectively on their last leg. And also, quite hungry.

As he crawled into bed, part of Hongjoong still believed he would wake up and Eden would be gone, a spectre dreamed up in his sleep deprived state that disappeared with the dawn.

It made the most sense to let him use San’s hammock since he was occupying a cell for the night. Yunho didn’t mind the temporary new cabinmate, as long as he didn’t touch his rum stash.

“What exactly happened with you and Eden?” Seonghwa mumbled into the silence. Always with that uncanny ability to read Hongjoong’s mind.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I don’t know if I can without having this question answered,” Seonghwa responded softly.

“You barely saw the two of us together,” Hongjoong pointed out, just loud enough that his roommate could hear him. “How do you know anything happened at all?”

“Just answer the question.” Seonghwa’s exasperation penetrated the darkness and Hongjoong rolled his eyes. Not that he could see him.

“It’s just that he’s not who I thought he was.”

Seonghwa hummed quietly in understanding. Hongjoong would tell him more when he was ready to. Again the room fell silent and Seonghwa had almost drifted off when Hongjoong whispered from the other side of the room.

“I promised that I’d never let us be separated again.”

Seonghwa wasn’t sure if the Captain was just talking to himself or not but he hummed again to indicate his presence.

“Now we’re stuck in hesitant treaties that have to hold for weeks... and, I’m sorry, I don’t want to keep you prisoner, but I’m not risking you.”

Seonghwa remembered the tangible darkness in the hold and the cold chill of being alone and shivered from the memory.

“Do you think they’ll be safe? On the mystic’s island?”

Hongjoong turned to face him. They couldn’t really see each other in the dark but his voice was slightly louder when he replied. “Eden will be with them. I can think of no safer alternative.”

Seonghwa accepted these words and let himself be enveloped in the sweet embrace of sleep until late morning, when Hongjoong woke him to eat something.

He expected to be confined to the cabin, ordered to remain on bedrest, and bored out of his mind for the week and a half it would take to get there, but to his surprise, Hongjoong led him out to the galley where Yunho was attempting to cook breakfast.

“It’s our last meal together...” he explained, spooning an egg onto Seonghwa’s plate. “...for awhile at least.”

The blatant honesty of Yunho’s remark halted Seonghwa’s fork midair. He hadn’t considered that fact. None of them had.

Mingi’s shoulders slowly dropped and he lowered the fruit platter back onto the table. Seonghwa had meant to scold him for heaping so much of it on at once but now the thought was far from him.

“The mystic isn’t far, right? We can be there and back in no time!”

Seonghwa cracked a fake smile at his optimism and focused on his food again.

All the eyes in the room were inevitably on the empty chair. Eden was plotting their course out on the quarterdeck so it was almost like a normal meal. Except for the absence of San.

Wooyoung struggled to keep his mind off what he and Eden had seen in the captain’s cabin last night.

A San who was at war with himself, as he and the demon coalesced into one. Their intentions becoming confused and tangled. Desires mixing like two different paints, creating a new and unrecognisable individual. Coloured with intense passion that radiated out and splattered in every direction. In one breath begging for his beloved sister, and threatening violence in the next.

Wooyoung’s sigh and downcast look must have been noticeable because Yeosang reached over and took his hand.

He knew Wooyoung wanted desperately to go with the others to find help for San, but they needed him here. To talk him down in case he broke out again.

As the meal finished up and Jongho volunteered to take care of the dishes so Seonghwa didn’t have to, Wooyoung slipped out to find Eden.

“I’m here to apologise,” he informed the man quietly as he ascended the steps to the quarterdeck. “I don’t want to start fights, it’s just that this whole situation with San has been very stressful, and I didn’t tell anyone when I knew he was struggling with dark magic so I feel, in part, responsible for it...”

Eden straightened and turned to Wooyoung as he rambled on. His face was unreadable but there was some twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“...and I-I suppose I don’t need to tell you the details of everything,” Wooyoung continued haltingly. “But I shouldn’t have snapped at you, and I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Eden bowed his head in acknowledgment and went back to his work.

Wooyoung stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, before spluttering back, “That’s all?”

He had somehow expected more ferocity from this infamous pirate.

Eden nodded without looking up from the charts, and continued marking them with a steady hand. Wooyoung frowned.

“How did you know where San lived?” He found himself asking. It had been bothering him since Eden interjected with it. Not even Wooyoung knew much of anything about San’s home life before the ATEEZ.

“I grew up in the same cluster of islands as he did,” Eden explained, still intently focused on the positioning of his protractor. “I saw him once or twice when he was much younger. He wouldn’t remember me, most likely.”

San and Eden had met? More than that, come from nearly the same roots?

The image of a young Eden, an innocent boy like San had been, was puzzling to Wooyoung as he walked away. He’d have to grill Hongjoong on it later.

With the many morning preparations completed, the group set out in their modified longboat towards the mystic’s island. They would arrive within the next day, if Eden had plotted correctly, and planned to rendezvous with the ship at San’s island once their business was done.

Hongjoong took Mingi aside before they departed to hand him his knife. Immediately Mingi protested, but Hongjoong pressed it closer to him.

“You’ll need it, Mingi,” he assured him. “Probably more than me.”

With a shaky breath, the quartermaster accepted the weapon and got in the boat.

The four of them set out when the sun was nearing the horizon, and Jongho waved until they were out of sight of the ATEEZ.

Hongjoong’s heart was in his throat as he watched them go. There was no option left but to occupy themselves for the rest of their journey, so he returned to his cabin and went about collecting books for Seonghwa.

Seonghwa was grateful to have something to read and assuage the guilt of not helping out on deck. The others had to pick up the slack of the three who had gone to find the mystic and because Yeosang was afraid of heights and Seonghwa was still recovering, that left most of the rigging work to be split between Wooyoung and Hongjoong.

The crew men were excited to be returning to lands they recognised, even if it did come with the threat of increased Navy presence.

After the first week passed with no enemy encounters, Yeosang grew suspicious. It was difficult to sleep with all the potential reasons bouncing around his head so he went one night to deliver food to San, a job that usually fell to Hongjoong.

San didn’t look up from where he sat, still and silent, in the corner of his cell. He was shackled this time as an extra measure.

“Which are you?” Yeosang asked in a steady voice, quelling the shaking of his hands as he slotted the tray under the bars. “San or the demon?”

San simply scooted forward to accept the meal, chains dragging across the floor and grinding in Yeosang’s ears. “There is no difference,” San simply said. His voice was darker and rougher than it had been, perhaps from misuse.

“No, the two of you are separable,” Yeosang thought out loud. “He’s too strong for you to snuff out completely.”

San stared at him as he ate, making Yeosang exceedingly uncomfortable though he refused to show it on his face.

A year ago he would never have believed that demons exist and can possess humans once summoned with dark magic. The whole thing would have sounded ridiculous. Yet, here he was, disproven again while someone else looked at him through San’s eyes.

“Your eyes are red still,” he noticed, voicing his thoughts freely. “But your veins are no longer black. Why is that?”

San finally broke the eye contact, lowering his head while he finished the meal. He didn’t seem too keen on answering, and Yeosang saved a small smile for when he was outside the room again, confident that he had just hit a nerve.

Ever at the wheel was Hongjoong, now regarding Yeosang with the same unreadable expression he had seen on Eden in their short time.

“Did you speak with him?” Hongjoong asked, not accusing but careful.

“No,” Yeosang lied easily. “He doesn’t have much to say anyway.”

“Don’t let him get under your skin,” Hongjoong told him knowingly. “If you give him an inch he’ll take the whole lead and you with it.”

Like Mr. Yuma when he was in a hurry, Yeosang thought, fondly remembering his childhood horse.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t got a death wish, Captain,” Yeosang smirked, walking past him towards his cabin. “We’re not all invincible like you are.”

If Hongjoong sighed in exasperation, Yeosang didn’t hear it. He entered his room to find Wooyoung inspecting his weapons, polishing guns and sharpening knives as he pulled them out of a chest.

“Still awake, I see,” Yeosang commented, settling back into his hammock.

“I suppose none of us are getting any sleep around here,” Wooyoung mumbled back, rearranging some dynamite sticks.

“Seonghwa‘s been sleeping fine,” Yeosang chuckled. He had been keeping him company and doing what he could to entertain the cabin-bound boatswain. “Honestly, I think he could have returned to work yesterday.”

“Captain’s just being extra cautious, I guess,” Wooyoung sighed, shutting the lid of his chest and returning to his own hammock. His own arm had healed smoothly and he was back to work, so it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination that Seonghwa was well enough from his knife wound to return to his duties as well. But one step out of that cabin was a step closer to San, and that was a mistake that could not be risked.

Yeosang hummed in acknowledgement before thinking back to his encounter with San.

“I think San is winning.”

Wooyoung turned to look at him, but said nothing.

“This whole journey to see his sister... he’s buying us time.”

“You spoke to him?” Wooyoung asked quietly. Yeosang shrugged and didn’t meet his eyes. “Captain doesn’t need to know,” he finally said, looking for Wooyoung to agree with him.

Wooyoung nodded in compliance and wondered aloud, “How did he convince the demon to request we take him to his hometown?”

“The two are becoming one,” Yeosang theorised. “What you observed earlier seems to be correct. The distinction between their minds is blurring.”

“But there’s a fierce battle raging inside still, and I really think San has the upper hand,” he went on. “Otherwise the demon would have Seonghwa by now, and he’d be headed to the palace, not San’s island.”

Wooyoung considered all this in light of San’s behaviour earlier. Even suppressed, San maintained some shred of control over the demon. Enough to confuse him into complying with his wishes— a pointless trip to his hometown, but one that would the stall the demon long enough for the others to find a solution.

Yeosang was right.

“I just want him back,” Wooyoung admitted softly. “The real San.”

“I miss him too,” Yeosang whispered after a moment. “It’s not the same without him.”

It was this stifling air that pervaded the ship. The outright tension that bled through the rooms, like an electric charge clinging to each person so that the air hummed with agitation.

Too much was unspoken between men, and all of them had seen and heard too much to let it escape their minds. Wooyoung longed for things to be right again, for the atmosphere to dissipate and the officers to be able to relax again.

Even their last meal together had been saturated with anxiety, questions about the future, and unspoken words.

After a long battle in his mind, Wooyoung finally fell asleep.

The sunrise would bring landfall, and with it, more unknowns.

...

Taglist: @serendipityunho @celestial-yunho @nightynightnyx @theinvisablessed

A/N: Another long chapter!! It probably doesn’t feel like it because there wasn’t much action 😬 Thanks so much for reading and I’m sorry the POV switches were all over the place... Exams are done and spring break is next week so maybe you'll get a surprise gift from me (no promises tho!) Please let me know what your thoughts/predictions are in the comments or on my twt @tiny_tokki :) have a nice day~

← Previous | Masterlist | Next →

34 notes · View notes

willows-adventures-in-words · 3 years

Text

I think it took me almost three weeks before I finally decided this was ready to be posted. I decided to write about a first meeting in my wings AU. The one where Henrik meets his namesake. I just realized that this is the first thing I’ve written for this AU that wasn’t based off of a prompt.

Wings AU word count: 1912

_________________

Henry sighed as he stood by the door leading outside. The thunderstorm really picked up in the last hour. Pulling the door open he took a step outside and hesitated under the overhang. It really wasn't worth using his umbrella with how strong the winds were. If he did he was just going to fight with it to keep the wind from claiming it. Either way he'd be soaked. So instead he just ran for his car. After buckling up, he flipped his windshield wipers at full then pulled out of his parking spot and started his way home.

“You can not see shit,” Henry muttered as he drove through the small section of trees just before the road to his home. He had to slow significantly so he could be at least a little aware of his surroundings. When he came to a stop, turn signal blinking, a loud crack of thunder sounded. He leaned forward and looked up, a little unnerved with how close that was. Slowly he pulled out onto his road and under the last of the trees when he faintly heard something above him in the trees. Suddenly something crashed against the trunk of his car and tumbled onto the road.

Startled, Henry slamming on his breaks before getting out of his car. He walked around back to see what happened, only to stop in his tracks. “... My god.” A hybrid. And it wasn't moving. He pushed past his shock and stepped over crouching down next to it and checked for a pulse. It was alive. No, he was alive. Though his pulse was weak. He needed medical help. But there was no way he could take him back to the hospital. Not only did he not have time but he wasn't sure how good of an idea it was to bring a hybrid there. That only left him one option.

Without much contemplation, Henry got up and attempted to open his trunk. With the big dent he was surprised it actually opened. He grabbed for the blanket he kept there with the intent on putting the hybrid in the back seat on top of the blanket. But he had no idea how he would maneuver him in his car. There was another option though. Spreading the blanket out in the trunk he turned and lifted the hybrid up and laid him on top of the blanket. Once he had him situated, he shut the trunk and hurried back to his open door. He cursed as he sat down in his wet seat, then started the short distance to his home.

He stopped as close to his front door as possible before shutting off his car and hurriedly getting out. Henry moved quickly, rushing to the door to unlock and crack it open before going back to his car. Opening the trunk, he reached in and carefully lifted the hybrid in his arms. With a bit of difficulty, he shut the trunk. As he headed back to his house the wind pushed his door open. When he stepped inside he pushed the door closed with his foot and hurried to his guest room. After laying the hybrid down on the bed he checked his pulse again. It was the same as before. This isn't good. He had to find out the extent of the damage before he could even begin to tend to him.

Thoughts ran through his head; some useful, some not so much. As it stands he didn't have the time to concern himself with bird anatomy. Not until he found out what was wrong. The hybrid wasn't bleeding. Nothing severe anyway. A few cuts, scraps, and perhaps soon to be bruises. His shirt had a few tears and... singed? The lightning! He was struck by lighting. Carefully, and as quickly as he deemed possible, he rolled him onto his side. Just below his right arm on his back was a nice sized burn. Was he hit directly? Henry shook his head. Right now it didn't matter. What mattered was he do what he could. Take care of the burn as best he could and try to warm him up. Quickly, he left the room.

Thunder cracked loudly. The hybrid jerked awake. A strained sound emitted from him as he moved in an attempt to get up. He had some difficulty with his right arm but he managed in a mostly seated position. His whole right side and wing felt stiff. Sore. Where was he? His eyes moved to the movement in the room. He stared at the human, who was on his feet and looked surprised. Things started to click. The strange room. The building he was in. He was trapped. Captured? He pushed himself back putting distance between them as he tried to hide his wings from his view.

The man put down what he had in his hand and carefully lifted his hands. “Do not be scared. I promise I mean you no harm. I found you. You were hit by lightning. I brought you to my home. To heal you.” Wary of taking his eyes off of him, the hybrid looked around. Eyes landed on the window behind him. The storm. He was caught in the storm. Going more inland to find a place to hide when he felt the sharp pain. Barely conscious he fell from the sky, crashing through the trees before he hit something hard before going unconscious. Turning his attention away from the window, he glanced back to the human to see he hadn't moved, then looked down at himself. He now realized his shirt was undone at his back and hung loosely from his arms. There were vine like scars peeking out from under his arm from his back. He could also see part of the bandage that was on his back.

“Can you understand me?” The hybrid hesitated. Did he put trust in him? He did always find humans interesting. But now that he found himself in the home of one he felt a little unsure. He meant him no harm though. He even helped him. And the hybrid nodded.

Henry let out a sigh and fell back into his seat. “That is a relief. It will certainly make this easier.” He sat himself up to look a little more professional. “Do you know what happened to you?” The hybrid nodded again. “I am surprised you are awake. Your pulse was weak. I had been sure you would have been out longer.”

“... Pulse?”

A look of surprise came to Henry. He'd never had direct interaction with one of the hybrid's before this so he didn't know what to expect. “Yes. Someone's pulse is a way of checking someones health. Another way of checking for a heartbeat.” He lifted a hand and pressed his index and middle fingers to his neck. “This is one of the most common places to check for a pulse.” Henry watched as the hybrid copied him. They sat in momentary silence when the hybrid's wings fluttered slightly. The doctor wondered if he'd found it. He couldn't help the soft smile that touched his lips.

Thunder rumbled. The hybrid tensed and looked back to the window. The smile fell from his lips. “You are safe from the storm,” Henry said, trying to reassure him. Silence settled over the room. Henry watched him with interest and curiosity as the hybrid stared at the rain hitting the window. Then he relaxed. Henry could actually see his wings better now that he wasn't trying to hide them behind his back like when he first noticed him. But it was when he saw him shiver that Henry realized the problem. Not only were his wings damp but the bedding was wet from where they had been laying.

Getting to his feet, Henry asked, “Should I get you a towel to dry your wings?” He glanced over to him before spreading out his wings a bit but quickly stopped and lowered his right one. “Does your wing hurt?” the doctor asked when he noticed the change in his expression.

The hybrid lowered his other wing back down. “Yes I would like to dry my wings.” He watched as the man left. Reaching back he lightly touched the base of his right wing. It did hurt, and ached a little more so at the touch; he just didn't want the human touching his wings. He dropped his arm next to him on the bed. Really he could just shake his wings dry, well, mostly dry, but he didn't think that would be appropriate to do. And with his wing hurting he'd rather have an alternative method to dry them.

Taking another look around the room didn't tell him anything new. There was the window behind him. An exit in front of him. The spot the human had been seated at was next to the exit. He could hear him coming back. As he stepped back in the room, he paused for a moment. “You can use this to dry your wings.” After he finished his statement he held out one of the two items he had and stepped closer. The hybrid sat still and waited. Cautious. When he was close enough, the hybrid reached out and accepted the item in question. “I also brought you a throw blanket.” After he took the blanket the human stepped back. The blanket was very soft. “When you're done with the towel you can set it at the foot of the bed,” he explained. “I recommend resting and letting your body heal. Since you seem to be in good health considering the circumstance, I will come back and check on you in the morning.” He waited a moment more then left.

He turned back to the blanket and towel. The towel was large and had some softness to it. But it was the blanket he liked. It was so soft. He lifted it to his face and nustled into it for a moment. Then, carefully, he set it aside. Picking the towel back up he proceeded to try to dry his wings. By the time he was done he was laying on the non wet side of the bed with the towel draped on the bed behind him. The blanket was draped over his chest and he had nestled his face into it. It was a nice blanket...

Waking up in the morning, Henry was again relieved that what happened last night had happened when it did. He had the day off of work so he could stay in and look after the hybrid. Going downstairs he headed to the guest room where he left him. Except when he got there and carefully looked inside, he found the room empty. Stepping inside he quickly looked around but there was no sign of him. Though the throw blanket he offered the night before was missing. Did he leave? Henry walked around his house to make sure. There was no sign of him. Heading back upstairs to his bedroom he stepped out onto the balcony attached and looked out towards the ocean. It was safe to assume the hybrid left. He left and stole one of his throw blankets. Henry let out a sigh but then smiled; happy he was able to help him.

#jacksepticeye #JSE egos #Henrik von Schneeplestein #original character #My writing #wings #JSE writing

1 note · View note