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besotted-eros · 3 years

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Obsessed!Eren Headcanons+

Genre: SFW Headcanons + NSFW scene under cut

Summary: Eren being helplessly in love with you, and the night where he could show you just how bad.

Content: Bit of toxic jealousy, obsessive thoughts, losing virginity, romance,established relationship,oral (female receiving), unprotected sex

AN: Take some fluff, take some angst, take some smut and don't say I don't feed you

Eren loves so deeply, so passionately, so possessively. From the moment his heart decides on you, you are twisted in him. Yours is the first name on his lips in the morning, whether he wakes up beside you, or in a barracks beside Armin. Or in a jail cell alone. He thinks of you obsessively, weaving you into everything he does.

He used to follow you, sorting his schedule by yours. You would find him by your door, by the table you liked to read at, waiting for you expectantly.

It's almost scary sometimes. He makes your breath falter with his intensity, his need for you. You know he means it that he'll go mad if he ever loses you.

He keeps a note you wrote him in the inner pocket of his jacket. It doesn't say much, a quick entreatment to sleep and eat, your name signed with love. When he salutes his fist rests over it. He pledges to more than the scouts. It remains there long after his last salute.

He steals your hair ties, often reaching up to touch his hair when your absence gets too much. When his hair is down, falling below his shoulders like a chestnut curtain, he keeps it around his wrist. When he loses himself in the fog of memories that don't belong to him, he snaps it. It reminds him of the way you'd tap the back of his hand, pulling him back into the world of the living. You are his anchor.

He refuses to keep his hands off you in public, even if it gets him in trouble. No amount of scolding from Levi will make him stop touching your waist as you pass by during training, or pulling you in for a kiss before zipping away. Your friends become use to it, the way Eren will pull you against him when you sit together, or move you into his lap. His hands will rest on your hips, rub your shoulders. But he loves holding your hand above all. It's the way the world knows you are tied. Bound.

There are only a few people allowed to touch you. Mikasa, Armin. Sasha on good days. One time Jean attempted to throw a casual arm around you as you spoke, and was quickly thrown to the ground. Yes, Eren and Jean fought. But this time was different. Eren spat in his face, baring his teeth as he delivering a bone crunching punch. "Don't. Fucking. Touch her." He growled, sounding more animal than man. He never apologised for that. You were careful to keep your space from other men too.

When you're apart he is hollow. Listless. He imagines what you're doing, if you're safe. If you're missing him. He pictures you in trouble without him, and it stirs him into action, to find you faster. To wrap you in his arms, the only place you'll ever truly be safe.

When you reunite, it brings him to tears. They quiver in the corners of his verdant eyes as he tenderly cradles you, large hands stroking through your hair. He buries his face in you so you won't see them. And he says your name. Over and over. Like a chant. Like a prayer. Like a thank you.

There is one time that those tears fall. It is when he takes you, when he gives himself to you.

The evening had been perfect, ignoring the upcoming trip to Marley that weighed heavily on all minds. You didn't want to think about that, instead focusing on the spiced wine that Levi had quietly pushed into your hands while Hange grinned from behind him. And the way Eren traced circles on your knee, his normal stoic face softened into a half smile.

You snuck away from your friends, leaving Connie and Sasha bellowing a war song while Mikasa tried to force Sasha's shirt back on. You had tapped his wrist, and soon you were out of the mess hall, holding onto each other as you stumbled into the moonlight. You kissed, soft and repeated, your lips unbearably supple under his. Eren wondered if the butterflies would ever fade as your head leaned against his shoulder. He never wanted them to. He wanted to love you like he was free falling from a wall, with his heart in his throat and life bursting from every pore.

Soon you found yourself at the door to the room you shared with Mikasa and Sasha. This is where you would usually part, with him kissing your forehead goodnight. He would quell his thoughts of you in the shower later, your name hot on his tongue as the cool water cascaded over his firm body.

But this time you pulled him in.

When he laid you on the bed, your soft hair splayed across the over the pillow like a sunburst, his heart stopped. He had seen this before. He had dreamt it. There was no god to Eren, no angels. But in that moment he knew he had found someone to worship.

But nothing could have prepared him for how it felt. Lips meeting like crashing waves, the soft gasps that left your throat as his hands found parts of you no one else would ever touch. He wanted to run his fingers across every inch, to discover you like a new world. Here, the dip of your hips. There they smooth into your legs, here into your ass where the flesh was soft and pliable under his fingers. His thumb brushed across your lips, and when you took into your mouth, tongue tracing the pad of it, he groaned.

He could have ruined you right then and there. But he held back.

Eren memorized you, the feel of your chest against his and the way you kissed his collarbone until it was a field of blooming bruises. Tomorrow he would wear his shirt unbuttoned, wearing your love like a medal. He returned the favour in tenfold, leaving blossoms of soft purple across your neck. They were rewards for every time you touched him. How good it felt. Eren had never felt this good. Soon your chest was littered with them, his mouth hot and desperate on your breasts. Here he seemed to say. I have touched you here, and here. I loved you there, and there.

You spoke his name into the night like a prayer. The want in it, the need of him. It twisted his stomach into a rosary as he held your face and kissed you like a blessing. He liked how your mouth formed him, called him forth into the world. He wanted more of that.

So he kissed his way down, teeth sneaking out every once in a while to nip at your supple skin. You found where you wanted him most, where you throbbed with want. You were so delicate under his fingers as he dipped them into you, walls fluttering as your toes curled. Your hands found his hair, encouraging him further as his tongue slid against your clit, making you buck.

He could do this to you. He could make you putty under his fingers. This strong, demanding woman who slayed those who threatened her, reduced to whimpering his name.

His. Eren was making you his. He was defiling you in the softest of ways, pressing your legs open, your slick slit parting for him. He dragged his tongue up, down, up again to circle your throbbing clit. When you looked down at him, his eyes were glazed green glass, your wetness making his lips shine. He pulled his fingers out, holding the soaked fingers towards you. Obediently you took them into your mouth, and he gasped against your warmth, sucking at your clit in response and making you throw your head back. Your throat exposed, vulnerable and ridden with angry bruises.

He couldn't handle it. His shaft was hard against the bed as he pressed into it, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. And then you pulled up, tugging his long hair. You licked yourself off his lips, tasting how you coated his tongue. Your legs were still spread, exposed for him. Eren angled himself, his dripping head aligned with your wet entrance, while he kissed his love into you.

"Please," you asked, it was all Eren needed.

And then you were connected. His fingers found yours, and you held tightly to his hand as hips rocked against yours. Your eyes were closed, pinched tightly at the sensation of pleasure and pain radiating from the warmth between your legs. He was big. He was so big.

Eren whispered your name.

"Look at me. Look at me while we do this." He murmured, his nose tracing your cheek as he peppered soft kisses on your jaw.

You did, meeting his green gaze. His mouth opened, a kick of pleasure making his toes curl as he adored you. The way you stared up at him, a look he would never see you give another. Your hand moved to cup his cheek, breasts bouncing as his body picked up speed. He was desperate. He was aching. He had pictured you like this for so long, but his dreams held no candle to the way your walls gripped him.

"Never. Never let another man touch you." He panted, his heart soaring as you nodded, nails digging into his shoulder as you held on to him, feeling him rail into you. "Be mine. Be forever mine. Please y/n..." His voice broke as he picked you up from the bed, needing to feel even closer. Even tighter. Your legs wrapped around him in response as your moans hit a fervored pitch. He gripped your thighs, using them to bounce you up and down his veiny shaft, using you to milk him. Eren sat back, letting the moonlight bathe your back as your hair stuck to your skin, mingling with his.

"I love you." He said. It cut through your incoherent moans, your whimpers of satisfaction. You pulled back to rest your forehead against his, letting yourself stare at him. To be seen by him. He could have done anything to look at you forever, to live his world only through your eyes.

"I love you too, 'ren." You whispered, and it pushed him over the edge. He slammed you back into the bed, load whines ripping from his throat as his hips snapped against yours over and over. You. You. You. You invaded his every sense, his every particle. You were Eren's everything.

When he came, it was like a dam breaking. Flooding you, making you cream around him. You overflowed with him, and he was at once addicted to the sensation. You cried out with him, your moans mingling as his hot mouth overtook yours. His cheeks were wet. He shook as you kissed, collapsing against you. His body was hot and muscular, the scratches you left on his back steaming slightly.

You lay there for peaceful moments, pressing your face into the top of his head while he listened to your heartbeat. He would do anything to ensure that it would never stop. He was going to do anything to ensure it never stopped.

Even if that meant he wouldn't always be there to hear it.

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srose-foxfire · 3 years

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Damirae Week 2021 - Day 7 (part 1)

“Finding Our Happily Ever After: Part 1” Day 7: Soulmates

All Raven could recall was standing before Damian about to confess she wanted to stay with him and his family, if he allowed her. The moments that followed after were in a blur, she had felt a pull from the skies and before long she was rising in the dark grey skies at a rapid speed. Raven looked down to see she was being pulled away from her friends and Damian. Scared, the young maiden called out for him, she heard him call back and bark an order towards her captor. Raven could also faintly remember seeing Sombra, trying to attack her captor but was wounded. The next thing she remembers was trying to punch and free herself from her captor, but she was then struck on her head rather hard making her lose conscious throughout the flight.

Overtime Raven would briefly wake up catching glimpses of the surrounding lands, as they approach a mountain.

When her senses came back and she fully awoke, Raven found herself to be inside a dark cave. It was too dark for any mere mortal to be able to look through but the part of her that held demon blood allowed her to see in the darkness. Raven slowly turned her head, skimming the area, as she tried to stand, she notices a tug come from her wrists and ankles. Looking down on herself, Raven had been tied onto a wooden chair, her wrists and ankles were tied rather very tightly, she notice red bruised marks stain her wrists . Raven tried to wiggle from her chair, when from the darkest part of the room, she heard the grunts of an older man.

The cave was lit with floating wax candles holding a green flame on them, making the room glow in green. Raven managed to see two figures standing close together from the direction she had heard the man come from. One was tall and well built, a man with his face hidden behind a black and orange mask. Next to him was an old woman, though she had a devil look in her eyes as if she shouldn’t be easily trifled with. This woman was dress in grey rags, almost appearing to be her dress, her long grey-hair was in locks pointing in different directions. She wasn’t pleasant to the eyes and might as well frighten any child.

Raven exhaled carefully, “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

The man laughed lightly, he took a step toward Raven, “my… you really cut to the chase, my dear.” He then bowed towards her, “I am Slade Wilson, and I have a proposition for you.”

Before Raven had a chance to inquire, the old woman next to him, place her weary old boney hand on Slade’s arm, “my lord, I must advice not to deal with the likes of her. Contracts with them come at a price, perhaps-”

“Quite hag,” Slade hissed through clenched teeth, then glanced at Raven who had her brows lifted, he gave her a gentle laugh, “apologies my dear. Like I was saying I have a proposition, if you choose to accept it, and I will free you from those binds.”

Not allowing herself to falter, Raven held her head high and spoke with a stern voice. “Listen, I don’t have anything to my name, if you know who I am, I’ve been exiled from my father’s lands. I hold no value-”

“Oh, but you do my dear, you absolutely do and that is why you should be wise to choose this offer of mine.” Slade clapped his hands together, looking over to the older woman, who mumbled some incoherent words and a large wooden chair appeared right in front of Raven, Slade then sat down, she could feel he was studying her through his mask.

“Which is?” she then asked him.

The masked man, sighed heavily, “you have been staying with a certain and very peculiar family,” She could feel her heart picked up speed as she listened, her chest rised with disdain, and her face was starting to flush with anger as Slade continued, “the youngest child of said family… well he was given a birthright he did not deserve, well to make it short I want to employ you to help me bring him to ruin-”

Enrage, Raven glared and spoke the truth in her heart, “You are wasting your time with me; I will never turn against Damian or his family! They have given me more than my own father ever could… besides Gotham has been with the Wayne’s for generations, its Damian throne to take-”

“Shut her up.” Slade commanded with a hiss, the old woman who stood behind him muttered some words in another language Raven didn’t understand and her lips were sealed, Slade then rose from his chair and walked around her.

“Apologies but I hate interruptions. Yes, the little brat is the heir to rule over Gotham, but he was also given another birthright one he very carelessly gave away to his cousin. The kingdom of Nanda Parbat, a land inhabited by the world’s most elites of assassins, it’s former ruler was Ra’s al Ghul, had chosen his grandson, the one you know as Damian Wayne to take over his kingdom!” Frustrated, Slade then kicked the large wooden chair, across the room with a powerful kick.

The noise frightened the harpy as it screeched and flapped it wings from a corner, hoping around the room. The old woman hissed at it to quiet down, with a flick of her fingers tips the chair was rebuild and place across from Raven. Slade grabbed it and sat down, he clasped his hands on his lap and studied her, noticing Raven had her brows knitted together.

“You must wonder why I hate him so much, correct? Well I was the ‘Demon Head’s’ right man, he almost treated like a son… he once told me I was going to marry his daughter Talia, but what does he do instead? Create a ridiculous alliance with the kingdom of Gotham, King Bruce takes Talia in marriage and she gives birth to the little brat. That boy has stolen what was rightfully mine and gave it away like nothing.”

Slade then stood up, remove his mask to reveal a dark skinned man, with short white hair and a left eye covered by a piece of black leather, placed his hands on either side of Raven’s chair leaning ever so closely to her face, “I needed to have my revenge. That boy took everything away from me, so I took away everything he came to love. I had a cursed place on him, his family, and soon everyone came to forget that the kingdom of Gotham ever existed. Its people became like wind, it was like they never existed. I found pleasure knowing he would never get to experience true happiness… that is until…you came along.”

Raven’s chest was heaving as she strained to breath steadily, she could feel her blood start to boil and her head throb with rage. “You somehow manage to worm yourself into the castle and lighten the darkness I so perfectly designed for them. I had to come up with something else, something that would really bring that boy to his knees, and that is making you my bride.”

Slade started to caress her cheek with his hand, she turned and tried to lean away from his vile touch. Her mouth was beginning to fill with saliva and just for a split-second Raven felt strange. She had a feeling like she could overpower whatever had been placed onto her lips, she locked gaze with Slade’s, glared at him from underneath her lashes and then spit at him.

The older man groined and wipes his face with the back of his palm, the old woman gave out a horrible angry cry as she screamed, “you filthy wench! How dare you break my enchantment?!” Raven’s chair was lifted and flung towards the ceiling of the cave, Raven cried at the impact as she was dragged to the floor and up again. Then she was floating just above the old woman, with a flick of her old wrist, Raven was thrown across the cave, causing the chair she was tied on, to break at the impact.

“Stop it!” Slade yelled as he lifted his servant by the throat, then releasing her harshly. He turned and pointed his finger towards Raven. “You! Do you think you could ever live happily alongside a beast like him? Don’t you want to live a normal-human life with someone like me? I can give you that and so much more.”

“No… you can’t.” Raven strained to speak as her whole body was aching, she lifted herself off the ground with great difficultly, “Damian may be trapped in a beast’s body but even he has shown more compassion and kindness from any demon I have ever met! He is no beast, you are!”

“Enough! I employed this witch long time ago to curse him, now for being a thorn on my side you will perish!”

The old woman cackled and her fingertips sparked with green magic, “oh, what great pleasure you give me my lord to slay a sorceress of Azarath.” Azarath?

“Don’t you dare, hurt her!”

That voice! Raven turned around to what was hopefully the cave’s only exit and to see him magnificently riding on Titus, like a white knight riding on his noble steed. Damian hopped off from Titus, as they both snarled and growled at Raven’s captors.

“Damian!” Raven cried happily.

Slade laughed, “Well now, isn’t this a sight! The beast man with his beast dog!” He then unsheathes a sword he had on his hip and pointed it towards Damian, “You want the girl, you will have to go through me!”

“You will pay for what you did to her and to my family!” Damian yelled. He leaped towards Slade, swinging his claws to land a hit.

The harpy who had been standing nearby flew up and dive to attack Damian but was interrupted as Titus manage to bite one of its winged arms. The harpy cried out and kicked Titus on his muzzle, then tried biting him in return. When she missed used her clawed feet to puncture his shoulder. Titus effortlessly evade each attack, then lodged its fangs onto one of the harpy’s foot and swung it in his mouth like a doll. He then let go, causing the harpy to be thrown across the cave, it shrieks and cried painfully flying away, abandoning it mistress.

Titus barked proudly and ran towards Raven as they watched Damian continue to battle Slade. “You cause me my pet!” Raven turned around and notice the witch was flying towards her, Raven through herself away from the attack and Titus tried to swing his paw at her. The witch shot a bolt of her green magic and Titus whimper as he was struck. Angry, Raven stood and ran towards the witch as she managed to tackle her to the ground. They rolled on top of each other, Raven had the upper hand given to her youth and her own will to survive this terrible ordeal. But the witch had magic and she started chanting some words making Raven float away from her and then launching her like she had done before with the chair. Raven rolled a few feet away, she glanced up as the witch floated slowly towards her.

“Your mother turned me into this! She took away my beauty because I used it to lure men to their dooms, now it is time for me to have my revenge!” She raised her hands up, green sparks going off as she chanted a spell. Raven lifted her hands to shield herself, when she heard a whoosh sliced through the air. Slowly Raven, opened her eyes and widen them when she saw that the witch had been impacted by Slade’s sword. It had entered through her back and the tip managed to pierce through the front of her chest. She slowly floated down to the ground, standing still. The witch then slowly turned around still with the sword embedded through her as she glanced towards Slade. “My lord? Why…?”

“Our deal is off; you are no longer any use for me.”

Damian quietly moved around Slade as he approached Raven, he used his body to shield her from their enemies. He slowly pushed her towards the path he and Titus had come from. The witch continues to walk towards Slade, then pointed her long pointy finger. “You traitor,you dare double-cross a witch, all of you will never see the light of day, I cursed thee all to be buried in this cave!” Her whole body illuminated and burst into green and black ashes, the cauldron started to boil and erupted around the entire room. Which cause the cave to rumble and some stalactites fell all around them.

“Let’s go!” Damian yelled as he grabbed Raven’s hand and together ran along the path to exit the cave. Titus ran up ahead, managing to evade pillars of rocks tumbling down, at some point Damian lifted Raven in his arms and carried her off most of the path. As they near the exit, some rocks came lose, falling right at the foot of the entrance to the cave. Damian stopped, placed Raven down and then jumped on top the nearest boulder, he turned and reached for her hands to help her climb. Titus effortlessly jumped and stood near an opening big enough for them to pass through. When Raven reached the top, she reached out her hand to grab Damian’s paw, for a second her looked at her and couldn’t help but smile towards her.

Then out of nowhere Damian screamed out a roar of pain, one hand clawing the air around him. Raven glanced to Damian’s side and saw Slade had reached them and had use a dagger to pierce Damian. The young curse prince had lost his footing and grip, causing Raven to hold onto him as tightly as she could and not let him fall. Slade used this opportunity to stab Damian again, but he too lost his footing and pulled Damian down with him.

“Damian!” Raven cried as she watches him tumbled down and roll a few feet away from where they had started to climb. She and Titus hopped down the to the floor and running to Damian’s side. She knelt down and gently picked up his head in her hands, trying to shield him from the small debris. Titus stood next to them, using his own large body as a shield for his master and the young girl. The only entrance they had was covered by more rocks, trapping them inside the cave.

“You lost, you lost it all!” Slade exclaimed happily as he tried to stand up straight, with shaky legs started walking towards them. “I was never going to let you live a happy life! You deserved this; oh, you so deserve this!” Slade chanted madly, all reason was gone, now before them was an old man filled with utter madness. Above them a large cracking sound was heard, gazing right above him a large stalactite broke from the roof and landed right where Slade had stood.

The cave continued to crumble around them. Damian was heavily panting, trying to minimize how much in pain he was in. “Save yourselves,” he whispered through painful breaths.

“I am not leaving you.” Raven answered him as she cradle his face. There has to be a way. Raven thought. She turned and turned her head all around her hoping to see something that could save them. But there was nothing, all was truly lost as Slade had said, was this truly what they were fated for from the start? Was the grand design of the universe this cold-hearted towards them in wanting to have a happy life? Wanting to hold on to what had brought her happiness for a short moment of her life, Raven felt that feeling again when she had broken the witch’s enchantment on her lips. It felt peaceful and warmth almost, just like when she had been visited by that strange woman cloaked in white. Without even knowing it herself Raven whispered;

“Azarath… Metrion… Zinthos.”

A dark purple circle suddenly appeared on the ground around them. As more cracks were heard from the cave’s ceiling, she saw some stalactites break, coming down rapidly targeting them. The circle then emitted dark looking shadows that looked like black tentacles wrapping around Raven and her friends. She closed her eyes waiting for their death but then opened them and looked at Damian. If she were to die, she wanted to see him one last time. Then they were all engulfed by shadows.

#damirae week 2021 #damirae #beauty and the beast au #Damian Wayne #raven roth #raven and robin #raven and damian #damian and raven

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waiting4inspiration · 4 years

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Scream (Geralt x Banshee!reader)

Summary: Geralt is hired to kill a Banshee, thinking that it’s the reason people are dying. When he finds out that it’s not true, he spares the Banshee’s life, and she returns the favor later on when she finds the Witcher close to death

Warnings: mythical elements, mentions of murder, violence, mentions of blood, angst, small fluff, witcher things, if I missed something, please let me know

Word Count: 2,513

7k Mythical Creatures Masterlist II Witcher Masterlist

There are stories Witchers in training are told when they are young of women who travel all around the continent, whose wails and screams could only be heard by those whose death was near. Women, known as Banshees. It is believed that the Banshee kills those that hear her scream, which classifies them as monsters, meaning that Witchers kill them the moment they come across one. No questions asked.

Their scarce numbers are what make Banshees only a fairy tale now. No one has seen or heard of one in years. So much so, Geralt doesn’t believe they exist anymore.

While traveling through some small city in Redania, Geralt hears the story of a wealthy family who has lost two children in the past month. The parents say that both had told them they had heard a wailing scream a few days before they died. Both times, the family thought nothing of it.

Now, with the father having heard the wail just last night and Geralt noticing a similarity of this to the stories of Banshees, he agrees to kill this family’s monster for a price, of course.

He’ll have to stay as close with the family as he can, every night until the Banshee attacks. Though he can’t guarantee that he can prevent the father of the family dying, he can at least stop this vendetta the Banshee seems to have for the family.

Waiting outside the house, on the lookout for the creature that would kill the father, he catches sights of something. But it’s not the Banshee. It’s human. An assassin.

Then, he sees the man he is to protect, the father, run out of the house seemingly shaken by something. Geralt begins to doubt if there even is a Banshee, or if these people knew they were being targeted by assassins and thought they could hire a Witcher as their bodyguard. Well, they can keep their coin because Geralt won’t get caught up in meaningless affairs that don’t include hunting monsters.

Before the Witcher can turn to leave, he stops a figure looming in the dark under a dead tree. And he hears a fell voice on the air, a song of sorrow and grief. A Banshee song. It’s not possible.

Geralt’s eyes flicker over to the man that had run out of the house and he catches an assassin dropping from the roof and landing behind the man. There’s a loud, piercing scream that seems to make the man go frozen before his throat is sliced open with a knife. The man’s body falls to the ground, and the assassin is gone.

Looking back over to where he saw the figure, Geralt finds the spot under the dead tree empty.

“You carry so much death around you, Witcher.”

He jumps around when he hears your voice behind him and finds that hooded figure he had spotted under the tree now behind him.

Quickly drawing his silver sword, the ringing makes you back away from him and hold your hands up to stop him. He notices how smooth your hands seem to be, like human hands. Watching as you slowly lift them up to push back the hood, you reveal your face.

Geralt lowers his sword and chuckles. “I thought Banshees looked like a frightening old hag,” he mentions, staring at your young-looking face.

“If it’s my true features your wish to see then-”

“I meant no offense,” he cuts you off, stopping you from changing your appearance. Still, he sees some of the stories he’s heard about Banshees being true in your appearance now.

Red eyes, from weeping and wailing. A sorrow-fill look on your face, like you had just come from a funeral. And a white dress underneath that grey cloak, to refer to your link to the spirit world.

You tilt your head to the side as you stare at him, smiling when you see that what you have heard of Witcher, what they look like, seem to be true. Gold eyes, pale hair, brooding features. And death in their aura.

“You mean to kill me, Witcher?” you question, seeing that he still holds the silver sword in his hands. “You wouldn’t be the first that tried. Though, you won’t be the first to succeed,” you mention as you take a step closer to him.

He smirks at you. “What makes you think you have an advantage over me?” he asks, bringing his sword up and resting the blade against his chest. With one swing, you can be dead. This you know, but you are not afraid.

You laugh, take another step forward and narrow your eyes at him. Running your tongue over your lips, you glance down to the sword on his chest for a second before looking up at his face again. “My scream can do more than just warn others that their death is coming. I scream, and I change your destiny and bring your life closer to its ends than you expected,” you say in a low voice.

Geralt narrows his eyes at you and lowers his sword again, making you smile and back up a bit to show him that you won’t harm him if he doesn’t harm you. “You didn’t kill those kids, did you?”

His question makes you roll your eyes at him and fold your arms over your chest. “We only kill when we’re threatened, to keep ourselves alive,” you state. Taking a step to the side, you glance down to the house and watch as the mother walks out with the intention to look for her husband, only to find him dead. “We used to travel in groups, you know. When there were more than just five of us,” you say as the woman cries out and drops beside her husband’s corpse. “I don’t remember the last time I saw another banshee. Thanks to your kind,” you coldly snap, turning you head up to him as you turn away from the grieving woman and walk away.

His head turns after you, watches you walk away. “My kind is dying off just as yours has,” he snaps at you as he turns his back on the house with the crying woman in front of it. “We only go on what we were told and we were told that Banshees kill those that hear their screams.”

“That is a lie!” you bark, turning around harshly to face him again, glare coldly at him with eyes redder than normal. You’re angry, and he can tell you’re holding back a scream. “We are harbingers of death. It is not our place to kill, but to warn those of death so that they may finish things before they die. That story was only created because humans don’t like to blame themselves. It’s easier to blame something else other than your own kind,” you add more calmly as you drop your gaze to the ground.

Geralt understands that. There have been so many times where he had been blamed for things caused by humans, all because it was easy to blame someone non-human than someone of their own species.

You stare at him for a second, sigh and glance over your shoulder to the direction you were headed. And Geralt has an idea why. “You’re leaving,” he whispers, making you look back at him and nod.

“This family is done with death. The assassins are gone now that they have what they wanted,” you explain, glancing back to the house for a second before looking back at Geralt to find him frowning at you. “That wife isn’t as sad about her husband’s death as she portrays. There is no sorrow in her cries. Do with that what you will,” you simply say before turning around, lifting the hood over your head again and walking away.

He watches you disappear before turning back around to face the house again, people have now come out of their own homes at the sound of the crying woman to comfort her and Geralt knows that he will be blamed for the man’s death. He has to leave to avoid that kind of confrontation. If he shows his face here again so soon, who knows what will happen.

It’s best to just leave.

Sometimes, things don’t according to plan.

For example, Geralt was supposed to find the werewolf, kill it, collect his coin, and get out of town. He didn’t mean to get involved in some political problems and end up having to fend for himself after collecting his coin. He thought that after he walks out of the city walls that he’d be fine.

He was wrong. And now, he’s being searched for through the forest. Now, with a wound in his shoulder from one of the fuckers that are looking for him that shot an arrow through his shoulders.

If only he could remember where he left Roach.

Stumbling to the ground and groaning in pain when he lands on his wounded shoulder, he curses to himself. So much for trying to stay neutral.

He then hears footsteps nearing him. But they’re in front of him instead of behind him. And as he turns his gaze up to see who, or what it is, he sees a hooded figure standing in front of him. A grey cloak. He knows that cloak.

You push back the hood to reveal your face, but instead of looking down at Geralt, you stare out at the men that approach.

And the last thing Geralt hears before he falls into unconsciousness is the sound of Banshee scream.

His eyes snap open at the feeling of something pressing against the wound on his shoulder and his hand shoots out to grab the wrist in front of his face.

You gasp at the sudden action and effortlessly pull your hand out of his grip. He glances over to you and grunts when he sees your face. “What are you doing?” he roughly questions, making your smile fall and a cold, stern look to grow on your face.

“Saving your life, by the look of things,” you speak, turn your head to the side as you rinse the cloth you had used to clean up his wound. “Banshee medicine is very strong, so you should be back to slaying monsters tomorrow-” He tries to push himself up, only to be stopped by you placing a hand on his chest to push him back down. “-if you don’t move as much as possible and rest,” you say, glaring hard at him as he stares up at you.

He breathes out a long sigh as you reach over to grab something. “I didn’t need your help,” he stubbornly mutters, making you laugh and turn your head back to him.

You chuckle, glance down to the bottle in your hand as you pull the cork out and run your tongue over your lips. “I see so,” you sarcastically reply with a smirk before pouring the liquid over the wound.

Geralt grunts in pain, bites back a scream and stares down at the wound as he clenches his hands into fists at the burning feeling. “What the fuck is that?”

“Temerian spirits,” you state, placing the alcohol aside as you look back down at him.

Laughing to see the slightly irritated look on his face, you lean back in your seat and smile at him when he smiles at the sound of your laugh. He didn’t know Banshees were capable of laughing. He didn’t know they were capable of anything other than death.

And yet, he’s never heard a more calming, sweet laugh as yours.

Then, he remembers the scream before he passed out. You told him that your screams can do more than just warn people of their death, that you can actually kill someone with a scream. And that’s probably what you had done to save him.

But the looming fact that he heard your scream and that his death might be nearing. Would it be something that he’d be okay with? He has been around for a long time, it wouldn’t be all that bad after so long. Would it?

“You Witchers and your brooding nature,” you mutter, breaking him out of his thoughts and making his eyes turn to you again. “Come on, tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours,” you urge, standing from your seat and walking across the room with the bowl in your hands.

He wonders if he should even tell you, knowing that it will be your doing that he dies and he wouldn’t want to make you feel insulted after you practically saved his life. “I just realized that I don’t know your name,” he says, groaning as he pushes himself to sit up now that you are not there to stop him.

Humming at his words, you turn around to face him after placing the bowl down. You stare at him with a smile, fold your arms over your chest and breathe out a short sigh. “(Y/n).”

“I’m Geralt,” he replies, returning your smile as you start to walk towards him again. “I suppose I should thank you for saving me,” he mutters as he glances around the room.

“I’m not done with you yet, Geralt,” you quickly say as you come to stand in front of him. He looks up at you with a frown on his face, takes in a deep breath as you sit down on his lap and rest your hands on his chest. “I know you heard my scream. And, believe me, I do not want you to die after I saved your life,” you state, your eyes flickering down to his lips for a second before you look back up to him. “You spared my life, so I’ll spare yours.”

With that, you lean forward and press your lips to his. His eyes flutter shut at the feeling and he leans in closer to your face, cups your cheek, and kisses you back.

The kiss lasts longer than you anticipated, but you can’t complain about the feeling of warm lips against yours, of having someone so close to you, someone touching your cheek like you’ve seen lovers do before death rips them apart.

When you do end the kiss, you breathe out a flustered sigh and stare at his face, waiting for him to open his eyes so you can check if it worked.

“That’s the final step of a Banshee healing someone. I’ve taken away the chance that you might die of your wounds, and I’ve taken away the death you carry with you,” you explain as you begin to pull away once he opens his eyes to look at you. “Be careful, Geralt. My kiss is a gift. Don’t waste it,” you warn as you slowly step away from him.

As you reach for the hood of your cloak, he knows you intend to leave again. And he knows that he has to let you go.

Death doesn’t wait for anyone. Not even a Banshee.

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

Text

when the light blinds

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #17 - destruct ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 1,270 words ] ★ [ major shb spoilers ]

destruct- the process of destroying something

when the light in her shines so brightly that the stars in her eyes have been blinded completely, alphinaud feared that he’d forever lose that which served as his beacon of hope during his darkest moments

“Alphinaud... Alphinaud...” Her voice sounds paper thin - still soft and light like air but lacking in the melodic chime that always reminded him of songbirds. Silence hangs in the air, palpable and dripping with dread, and the girl in her arms lets out a throaty whimper.

Though he feared that she would hear the sorrow in his voice if he spoke, intuitive and so attentive of his state of mind more than she even cared for her own as she typically is... He forces himself to part his chapped, painfully pale lips.

“It’s alright, you’ll be alright.” His vocal chords tremble as he murmurs out words of reassurances in her ear. He knows those words were more for himself than her. “We’re almost there, Illya.”

Illya doesn’t respond, merely rolls her head to rest against his shoulders as she lets out yet another pained whine.

The sickeningly bright glow of her long starspun hair is whispy and light, tickling his finger yet also unpleasantly noticeable in his peripheral vision. As he carried her through the long ascending corridors of the Pendants, internally cursing the distance away he had to trek to get to her suite, Alphinaud forces himself to not look at the woman in his arms - terrified beyond words that bile would rise up his gullet once more if he were to see the extent of her light poisoning.

Already bright hair or woven starlight now blinding and uncomfortably radiant... her fair complexion a sickly pale, with any and all color draining from her face as she had fallen to the ground.

And above all else, her eyes... Thaliak take him, he could not bear to look into her eyes.

When he’d finally reached the suite on the top floor of the Pendants, he unceremoniously kicks the door behind him with a loud bang before making a beeline for the bed, where he gently places the girl down.

“There. You can rest now, Illya.” his hand reverently strokes her hair, biting back his urge to shed tears as he watches strands of pure, irradiant light slip through the gaps of his fingers. He doesn’t brush her bangs away from her eyes like he normally does.

Again, the woman fails to respond, Alphinaud doesn’t expect her to, though she pushes back against him when he attempts to hold her by the shoulders and guide her to lay back on the mattress.

“Don’t worry, Illya.” He says, knowing his own hypocrisy. “We’ll find a way to fix this. The others have already split up to search for a cure. And Ryne was able to stop the light from spreading any further for the moment. You just have to focus on resting until we do, alright?”

He thought her too delirious too understand or even respond, but the young man frowns when she begins shaking her head lethargically.

“If...If I had just been stronger....” Past deathly white lips, she whispers... and Alphinaud cannot tell if she had been speaking to him in particular or if she was simply incoherently expressing her own thoughts while her senses are still dulled. “If I were..... then... G’raha wouldn’t... and Emet...”

Alphinaud grits his teeth, almost grinding them as his hands clench into tight fists... But his frustrations and rage were not targeted at her - he would never even begin to think of placing any blame or fault on her.

His anger was for Emet-Selch... and though Alisaie had certainly been more vocal in her disapproval for the exarch’s methods, Alphinaud too bore a certain amount of resentment towards the man for the state Illya was in now.... though he knew that he was simply too lost in his own panic and shaken state of mind to think objectively.

How could he when the love of his life was literally bleeding light?

And above all else, he held the most anger towards himself. For his own powerlessness and inability to ease her pain - let alone relieve her of it.

If he were more than he was born to be- if only he possessed the echo like she did... and if only he had been stronger. Then maybe he could take the light in her state - but even then, he knew deep down it would serve to help nobody.

The moment he saw her fall to her knees and vomit light from her lips, he knew that were it anybody else who had been absorbing the sheer amount of light that Illya had been - they would have turned into a sin eater then and there.

Illya has always been an aetheric reservoir - her ability to absorb and hold the amount of aether she does is second to none... and it was from that fact alone that she was as powerful of a mage and warrior as she is - not even taking into account her echo and the strength of her character alone.

The crystal exarch knew this - and thus had burdened Illya with the duty of bearing the light of the wardens she’d slain onto herself.

But even she has her limits - and the corrupting effect of the light-aspected energy swirling and festering within her was bound to eat away at her own lifeforce sooner or later... It already has, and it’s reduced Illya into a volatile state where the strength of her aetheric manipulation and conservation has now backfired and is on the verge of self-destructing.

It was exactly because Illya has been too strong - has ever been a hero to the realm who served and slayed with no recompense. Because she has ever been the brightest star of this realm and beyond that others would ever turn to for hope and salvation - that they might place too much of their wishes upon her lonesome to shoulder.

The world was ever in need of saving by the warrior of light and the warrior of darkness... But who will save her?

He allows himself only a moment for his mind to fester in the injustice of it all, until he hears his name being whispered in her voice again.

“Alphy...”

The lonely heroine looks up, and Alphinaud’s chest clenches painfully when he meets her gaze.

Fields of blossoming lavender and violets that danced across a field of baby blue skies... a dazzling jewel that reflected the light of the sun on a gleaming midsummer afternoon... and an ardent twilight that glowed meteoric stars in the dark of the night.

Illya’s eyes have always been one of the most beautiful facets of her appearance.... and yet now, staring back at him was a pair of lifeless eyes - burning so bright and white that it blinded him from the colors of hope he’s come to associate with her.

“Hurts...” The girl whimpers, and with what little of her strength she could manage left she lifts her trembling arms up towards him. “Hurts... that I can’t do anything.”

His arms enclose around her, and Alphinaud pulls his darling starlight into his arms in a tender embrace as he shakes against her, unable to retain his composure now.

“I know. I know, Illya. I’m sorry.”

As he feels the girl’s body slowly growing limp against his own, the everlasting light from the crystalline sky shines incandescently through the window and into the room. His back warms from the light, and he shifts to shield her away from the beams.

And though Alphinaud would not have known, a shadowed figure stands a distance away, his face solemn and melancholic even as he turns to leave through the unopened doors.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite2021 #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #illya skawi #we've come so far #fanfic #mine #shadowbringers spoilers

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janaeekook · 4 years

Text

Incapable i. || {myg}

“You cant love Min Yoongi, he doesn’t know how to love. Or care for that matter. You’ll just end up getting hurt.”

pairing: assassin!yoongi x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: - mafia - death - masterbation -

series masterlist

prologue.

It was your 16th birthday when your father and your older brother Namjoon told you everything — their affiliation and leading of the largest mafia gang in Seoul. You always knew your family was wealthy, that's what you were raised knowing. But you never knew that for your family to obtain it's wealth, the two most important men in your life would go out and risk their lives every night in criminal activities.

You hadn't believed them at first, thinking it was just some prank, a wild joke. The idea of them having a gang made your stomach twist in knots. You had always been your fathers little girl, you saw him as your knight and shinning armor, slaying the dragons of your bad dreams.

Since that day you received vigorous training. Intelligence gathering, undercover and stealth missions, trades; organized crime soon became your life. You were endowed to it, you saw a lot of horrible things, things that never sat right with you, but it all became a twisted new normal to you. The only jobs you refused are to take someone’s life, for you fear your soul may never recover.

When you were eighteen, your father had decided to retire. Leaving the legacy of Bangtan Sonyeondan to your brother. Many of the older members went with your father leaving it fully in the hands of the youth they'd spent years training.

Now you're 21, and head of intelligence. After your father left, you and your brother purchased a new estate in the countryside which served as base camp. The extravagant building was large enough to be considered a castle with its different wings. The west wing was for the higher ups, there was 8 of you in total and you all kept business booming with your varying talents.

Namjoon was very clearly the leader, the true business man, he handled transactions and bigger things along with interigation.

Kim Seokjin, or Jin— was your brothers right hand and the more ruthless of the two, he hated conflict between members and he also specialized in interigation.

Min Yoongi; a cold assassin who never really said much just got the job done without fail, it's quick and painless, he said the screams annoy him.

Jung Hoseok, he deals mainly with illegal substance transactions. He's a sadist in his work, something you'd never guess.

Kim Taehyung, the brains; he is the eyes and ears of every operation and he's just a plain genius when it comes to the plans. He's usually the one to stay at the base camp watching monitors that display cameras he's hacked.

Jimin works along side you in intelligence. He's a complete flirt. He specializes is hand to hand, He may look small but he could take you down in a second.

Jungkook is your arms man, he handles all the weapons, he loves his guns and he's an incredible shot, he never misses a target.

Lastly there's you, head of intelligence, gathering information on enemies, often working close with Jimin. You're also an amazing shot and can be found sniping with Jungkook and Yoongi.

The east wing, on the other hand, housed many of your henchmen; the army. They were not to be trifled with, They were trained to kill. They are the most loyal followers, that's why Bangtan is on top, some even said if they died protecting the 8 they would have fulfilled their duties. They were willing to die for you and the others.

Loyalty is very important, it's drilled into their heads from the first day of training to their last breath. They all take an oath of trust and they devote their lives to Bangtan. Once an army, always an army.

•

"Y/n, can you hear me?" Taehyungs voice came through your earpiece.

"Ya." You spoke quietly as you sat at a booth in a stuffy little downtown bar.

"Ok, he's the one at the bar wearing the red suit, you should make your move now." You nodded and stood from the booth, making your way to the bar and next to the crimson clothed man.

"One Jack Daniels please." The bar tender nodded, you sat on the stool next to the man. You could feel his eyes raking your body.

"What's a pretty young thing like you doing here all alone?" His voice was thick with a Russian accent.

"My boyfriend dumped me." The bar tender slid you the drink and you took a large sip. The man continued to ogle you in wonder. He was not an attractive man, he resembled a drowned rat with his hair all greased back.

"He's quite unwise to leave such a beautiful woman." You looked to his face, scanning it before bringing a fake smile to your lips.

"You think I'm beautiful?" You asked feigning shock.

"Incredibly." His hand moved to your knee, his rat-like face forming the most unpleasant smirk. You took another sip of the strong whiskey before looking back into his beady eyes.

"Hmm." You bit you lip, which came off sexual but you were really trying not to gag, "What do you say we get out of here?" You stood from the stool, grabbing his hand. He pulled money from his pocket and placed it on the counter before standing.

You led him through the chorus of drunk people dancing, weaving your way to the door where Jin waited on the other side. They were hidden from view as you stepped into the cold night air with the rat man following close behind you. The way his eyes wandered your body, mentally undressing you, made you feel uncomfortable.

"I can't wait to see this body." He spoke lowly, placing a calloused hand on your hip. You grabbed the hand before twisting it behind his back and pushing him to the ground, you held one hand behind his back and the other you held to the concrete with your knee.

"What the fuck!?" He groaned, struggling in your grasp.

Hallow footsteps clicked along the pavement as Jin walked up, a cigarette between his the nimble fingers of his right hand, his other hand grasped a black cane that had a gold skull on top. He had injured his leg on a mission a few years ago and it never healed the same, but the cane made him all the more intimidating.

"W-what do you want?" The Russian man inquired from his position on the ground as he looked up to Jin who had placed the end of his cane to his throat.

"I want you to tell me what your boss is planning, and why you're in Seoul." Jin spoke calmly but the intensity and seriousness of his voice would make anyone cower in fear.

"I-I" He stuttered then Jin pushed his cane harder onto the mans throat and You tightened your hold, "Ok! Ok— we're working with another gang." Jins eyes narrowed.

"Who?"

"I-I don't know h-he wouldn't tell us! I'll do anything to prove it to you, I'll work as a spy!" The man crumbled after only seconds of Jins cold stare, the chuckle that bubbled from his throat was just as cold.

"You see, trust and loyalty is very important to me, and you crumbled under the slightest pressure. I hate men like you, cowardly, weak, you could never be one of us." Jin then walked away, you quickly stood and followed after Jin, the rat man scrambled to his feet.

"You whore! You played me! You're already someone's dirty bitch!" The man spoke to you and you just smiled viciously at him.

"It's just part of the game sweetheart." You turned walking away to the car with Jin.

"You're not even worth my time you tramp!" He called out, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yoongi." you heard him hum through your earpiece and a deafening shot rang out, the cold lifeless sound of body meeting pavement, and then silence.

•

The car pulled up in-front of the mansion. You exited the car followed by Jin and ascended the steps to the front doors, the guards on either side bowed to us.

Pushing the door open, you went inside, kicking off your heels instantly. The 4 others sat in the foyer to your left, discussing plans.

"I'm gonna change." You told Jin quickly heading up the left staircase and to your bedroom. You pealed the dress from your body, before tugging your sweatpants on and a long sleeve shirt. Hair tied back in a bun, you headed back out and down to the others.

You plopped down next to Jungkook, he looked to you and smiled, that smile of his never seemed to match his aura, or the array of tattoo's that covered his golden skin. Everyone began talking about random stuff and the mission. The muffled sound of a motorcycle outside told you all that Yoongi had arrived.

When the door opened and he appeared in everyone's view his face visually upset, but You could never really tell. He wore all black and held a full face helmet in his hand, a scar ran over his right brow and extended to his cheek. Your stomach fluttered when his tongue poked at the inside of his cheek. Your relationship toward Yoongi had always been strictly business, though your attraction to him grew, he was painfully attractive.

"Thanks for leaving the body to me." He spoke sourly his gaze directed towards Jin. He sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, his cane leaned on the couch next to him. Jin only chuckled at the younger man.

"It's your job." Jin held a fake smile upon his face, he stood using his good leg before grabbing his cane.

"Sure pin it on me." Yoongi spoke, Jins intimidating smile stayed on his face as he stepped closer to the other boy.

"I know you're not trying to start anything right Yoongi? You know how much I hate it."

He scoffed, "Whatever." He turned and headed up the stairs. Jin just sighed and went back to his original seat. Your eyes followed Yoongi as he disappeared up the stairs, You wanted to follow him but you knew he'd just shut you out.

You laid in bed that night, unable to dodge the thoughts of him. You groaned rolling onto your side and tried to lull yourself to sleep, it was no use your body longed for his hands all over you -- but your mind told you it wouldn't be wise to try to love someone who was so emotionally absent. But was he really?

Your mind and body were deeply contrasting one another, the allure he had; both nothing and something. It called you forth to let him break you, but your morals pulled you back as the dark aura also pushed you away. You chewed at your cheek as your mind was running rampant. Your imagination beginning to take hold the scenarios swirling through your headspace, bringing you into a daydream like state as your mind played out what your mind had thought of sending your cheeks ablaze.

"What do you want me to do princess?" It was Yoongi, he had your daydream self pinned between himself and a wall.

"Touch me." Your voice a pitiful whine as you begged for his hands, he smirked sensing how needy you were, and it was all his doing. Well dream Yoongi of course.

"Where?" He asked, your words failed to exist in your mouth so you grabbed his veiny hand, guiding the strong appendage between your legs. You hadn't realized you were fully naked in this scenario, but you didn't care as his hand began to explore you, treating you like some toy.

Your eyes shot open, not being able to face the crude scene any longer, Your room felt as if it were on fire, your clothes becoming unbearable as they stuck to your skin. Your mind had somehow found its way to the side of your body, running a mile-a-minute with thoughts of Yoongi and different ways his hands could pleasure you. Your face was bright red, You were thinking of extremely sexual situations about someone who probably saw your relationship as otherwise platonic. You groaned, feeling your core throb as more thoughts invaded your mind. You had grown incredibly hot and bothered you couldn't take it, you went to the bathroom starting a shower in hopes to cool down your bodies rising temperature.

The water ran down your body, as you stood under the steady streams unmoving. You shook your head, rubbing your hands over your face, as your mind wandered to the idea of him fucking you against the shower wall. You felt dizzy as you grew more aroused as you thought of the man only doors down from you. You groaned before taking in a shaky breath, you brought your hand to yourself, eyes fluttering shut as you finally did what your body begged for.

It was slow at first as you rubbed small circles over that familiar bundle of nerves, your mind wandering back to the idea of him fucking you senseless in the shower. You bit your lip before pressing your back against the cool tile, lifting your leg to rest it on the shower bench next to you, allowing your hands perfect access to every sensitive part of you. You pushed a finger past your entrance, quickly accompanying it with another. You imagined it was him, his experienced hands touching you, getting you off.

Your small noises concealed by the water hitting the shower floor, you quietly moaned his name as you silently wished it was his cock inside you. Your legs began shaking as you drew closer to your orgasm, you threw your head back in pure bliss the tension finally unraveling in your stomach-- and it was Yoongi's name on your lips, the last word you spoke as you rode out your high.

You quickly cleaned your now relieved body and your sweat ridden hair, before finally exiting the shower. You collapsed on your bed, drifting off into a dreamless sleep, relief and satisfaction running through your veins.

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soradragon · 4 years

Text

Prank full of love

Dwalin here! Woooo!! changed my style a bit to fit with the type of genre this is, this is a comedy x reader fic. I’m very proud.

Also, thank you my sweet @deepestfirefun for helping me out! And Thank you my beta reader for helping me out! I love you!

Warnings: cursing, shirtless dwarf (wink wonk) and fluff with a sprinkle of angst

Dwalin x F! reader, mentions of bagginshield

Check out my main masterlist if you liked what you read and wanna read more!

If you want to be tagged in the upcoming fics don’t be afraid to ask me! ^^

Please, if you liked the story leave a little comment to let me know you liked it!

Anyway, enjoy^^

~~~~~~

"You..!"

A deep, threatening and rough voice bounced against the walls of the passages.

Not much further ahead was a woman, pushing a man of what looked like a high status to the side. She was running like a madwoman, fleeing from what people would think; the devil.

That woman is you. Yes you; surprising, isn't it?

What did you do to get yourself ending up in this peculiar predicament, you probably wonder?

Well then, no need to look further nor to scroll down to nitpick every sentence in this story to make even the slightest sense of what's going on in this world of chaos. It shall all be explained right here and now!

If you didn't care nor wonder what, how, and why this all happened, then too bad! You have no power over this story! Haha, take that!

Ahem, anyway...It all happened at a feast around midnight before all this chaos came to be.

*(*)*(*)*

Fili and Kili dragged you with them. The blonde prince led the way as the younger brother pulled you with them.

They had been spouting stuff about "the greatest idea ever." and "going in the history books for being the legendary mischief-makers." Or something like that. You didn't really listen, like at all, only perking up and paying a biiit more attention when they mentioned 'you' and 'food.'

Were you getting an all-you-can-eat-buffet?

Aww, such sweethearts! They shouldn't have.

Weelll, you did deserve it, after all. Going along on this journey and defeating a dragon is not an easy feat. They should make you an entire statue while they're at it!

Yes, one right next to the entrance so all visitors and passers-by could see you and know of your magnificent and heroic deeds.

You mentally patted yourself on the back. The look on your face was a mix of smugness and pride.

But you were forgetting one small itty bitty detail (or two) in your only sliiightly intoxicated state:

You weren't the sole hero who slew the dragon. You already got your fair share of the reward: a high status in the kingdom - a place in the High Court of the company who went on that dragon-slaying quest - and a luxurious comfy home included. And not to forget the gold you were promised. Thorin also offered work in a high place in the kingdom like a royal scholar or something, but you gracefully declined. You liked working in the toy shop with Bofur and Bifur - so...no statue for you.

But you didn't remember that.

You snapped out of your daydreams when Fili softly helped you to sit down on your bed.

How did you get here in the first place?

"Are you alright Y/N?"

Fili or Kili, you don't know which one as they looked the same to you at the moment, wiggling in front of you with their two clones.

When did they become a quadruplet?

"Y/N?"

Oh yeah, you still needed to answer them.

"...'M fiiinee."

You managed to slur out with difficulty, sleepiness slowly taking over. The brain cells were already going to bed, leaving behind a heavily drunken brain to operate the whole system.

What could go wrong, am I right?

...A lot.

*(*)*(*)*

"Ugh, stupid hangover..."

You moaned, resting your chin on the edge of the bucket pathetically.

You felt like you died and came back to life again, moaning over a bucket you desperately tried not to look into, for you knew the meal you had yesterday would not be a pretty sight.

At least you could tell what was up and down...yay for you...

You didn’t forget that you had somehow convinced Fili and Kili you were really fine and totally not wasted. How was beyond you, and you were not in the mood to figure it out.

Maybe they were also drunk or just took advantage of your pickled state. Yeah, they would do that to guilt-trip you into going along with their prank. They knew you never break a promise, even if you made it in your totally half-sober state. They were too cunning for their own and others’ - mostly others’ - good.

Anyway, somehow (not surprisingly) without knowing what you were getting into, you had nodded along with everything they had said.

You vaguely remember Kili or Fili tucking you in and saying goodnight.

Note to self: Never try to win against Bofur - or any dwarf for that matter - in a drinking match ever again.

You chastised yourself while staggering towards your wardrobe. How late would Fili or Kili pick you up to set his prank in motion? You didn’t even care which one it was - you hated them both at the moment...Okay, who are you kidding; you would do the same thing again in a heartbeat for either of them. And of course, they would give poor little you the hardest and most dangerous job to fulfil... Great. Just peachy.

Sigh.

Let's get this whole shenanigan over with, dammit. They’d better sing tales and praises about you once this is over.

Not long after you put some clothes on, The two brothers barged into your chamber, loud and boisterous as ever. How they both could be so lively in the morning (with probably a hangover too) was beyond you.

"...Stupid dwarf genes..."

You mumbled to yourself as you let the two princes drag you to the training hall with their arms hooked around yours on either side.

You felt dread pool inside your stomach as you got closer to the training hall.

Now, normally you loved the training hall. After all, it was the front row seat to a heavenly sight of young warriors and their amazing muscles being put to use in a workout. Not to forget there was one dwarf in particular who you just loved to watch while he flexed his muscles by throwing other dwarves around.

But right now, you feared it with a burning passion, for that place was undoubtedly the place where you would meet your inevitable doom.

"Don't worry dear Y/N, it's gonna be fun!"

Kili spoke up happily, seeming to notice your unease Oh, how you would love to give him the big finger. But knowing Kili, he would drop you for the fun of it and make a whole drama show out of it, gasping and acting like a stereotypical blonde rich girl, one who just overheard the most scandalous gossip about herself. You cursed yourself for showing Kili how to be a true drama queen. (Prince, in his case, but you get the point.) The traitor uses all those tricks against you every chance he gets. You could just kick yourself for being so stupid to show him the ropes. What's worse is that if you would put Kili in a dress he would be the definition of a diva! How he does it?

No one knows!

Why couldn't you just say no and walk away?

"Because you're too nice to leave your favourite dwarves hanging, Y/N. You promised you would help." Kili said. Technically, your autopilot did, not you. Unfortunately for you, Kili was right. You wouldn't leave him hanging.

You glared at Kili and the stupid cheeky grin he gave you. You would have rolled your eyes at him if that wouldn't hurt as much as it did, so you decided to roll your eyes mentally instead.

Wait...did you just say that out loud?

"Yes, yes you did."

"Fu-"

*(*)*(*)*

After what seemed like ages Fili and Kili had finally managed to drag your miserable self to the big wooden doors of the training hall. You had given up the struggle after the longest ten minutes of your life, deciding to formulate a master escape plan before you would reach the training halls. Unfortunately for you, it was too late. You threw your carefully thought-out plan down the drain when Kili accidentally slammed the door against the wall too loud when he kicked it open with his boot.

Still having his arm looped around your's, mind you.

Everyone and everything quieted down for just a moment. Heads turned towards the entrance where they were all, no doubt about it, greeted with a comical sight.

Fili and Kili, obnoxious as always and wicked smiles on their faces (and everyone who even remotely knew the young princes, grasped that the two were up to no good.)

dragged a very anxious looking you with them. One would guess you were about to be sacrificed as a dragon's dinner. Which you were, in your opinion.

"Come on Y/N, time to teach you how to disarm opponents," Fili said, leading the way to a part of the area where a couple of young dwarves were thrown on the ground by one dwarf in particular, one you came to recognise as the hottest and grumpiest dwarf in all of Grump Town. And oh boy, you were not ready to get destroyed by him, and you showed it, too, pulling and protesting and cursing at everything that lived.

How you wished you could tell people that you managed to free yourself from the boy's grasp and run for the hills.

Sadly, that wish didn't come true; God hated you or something, for Fili and Kili - those little rascals - managed to push you right into Dwalin.

You didn't know if Dwalin catching you was a blessing or a curse. What you did know, however, was that you most definitely were blushing, if your burning cheeks were anything to go off of.

Dwalin was shirtless... His strong, hairy arms encircled your waist delicately, and you were practically pressed against his chest...

Against his strong, warm and bushy dwarven chest.

The scent of sweat, smoke and a vague hint of cookie dough entered your nose, and it strangely made you feel at home.

You were a goner, yep completely gone, nobody's home. Come back later or leave a message after the beep for Y/N dot exe has stopped working and took a vacation to cloud nine.

Sadly, your cloud nine had been sucked away too quickly by the dwarf himself who put you there in the first place.

Dwalin, being the grump that he is, grunted at you and pushed you back on your feet as if you had burned him!

"Rude much," you grumbled once you managed to keep your balance, dusting yourself off.

Dwalin (the ass) only grunted in return. Him and his damn grunts.

You ain't special enough for him to form a full sentence for you, now?

Fine, if he was gonna play it that way then, you were gonna give it to him back tenfold.

Screw consequences, the dick deserved this. You were gonna go all out.

You turned around and stuck your tongue out like a real child woman.

Fili and Kili started to giggle behind you, getting quiet real quick when they saw Dwalin glaring daggers at them.

You marched towards the two princes, whispering four words as you moved past them.

"Let's do this shit."

The boys definitely heard you, for their grins turned wicked.

One glance and you knew what was about to come. If being the two princes’ guinea pig for pranks with poor Bilbo the entire journey taught you anything, it would be to recognize the twinkle in their eyes.

It spoke in volumes louder than any dragon could roar; chaos was about to unfold, both in their brains (as they looked each other in the eye) and soon, in reality. You looked slightly over your shoulder.

Yeah, they were scheming alright, communicating with that brotherly bond they share or something.

Watch out Dwalin:

This. Is. War.

*(*)*(*)*

ShitshitshitshitSHIT!

Oh, how you came to regret tripping Dwalin up. In your defence, it wasn't your fault that he couldn't take his dark eyes off of you when you pulled your shirt off because the heat was getting too hot to handle.

Wink wonk.

Hey, at least you wore a white undershirt. One which clung to your breasts tightly. Yeah, that'll give him something to look at.

Anyway!

It wasn't your fault, either, when Dwalin marched towards you with purpose in his steps when you bent over to grab a dagger off the ground, showing him your assets in the process.

It was his fault, really! He should've noticed that Fili and Kili were waiting for him to stand on the grey X. And now you were running for your life with a very, very angry dwarf (who was covered in white glue and colourful feathers) on your heels. Thanks for everything, Kili. Thanks for shrieking out, "Y/N planned it!" The moment Dwalin glared at them...

The snitch.

You pushed dwarves to the side as you ran for your life, screaming sorry as you went, because you are a polite gentlelady. Dwarves watched you go with wide eyes, confused as heck as Dwalin stormed past them not long after.

Most of the time, you were glad they made the hallways mainly one straight line, but now? You cursed its existence and its creator.

There was unquestionably no doubt about it that Dwalin would catch up. Curse you and your hate of exercise.

You should have taken Gloin's offer of jogging with him when you had the chance, but Bombur's pastries were too tempting to pass up on at the time.

And now here you were, fleeing like the devil was behind you, with burning lungs and protesting legs. You were afraid to glance back; you could almost feel your pursuer’s breath go down your neck. You silently prayed to all the deities above and beneath you to help you out, and it seemed one took pity on your little mortal soul. For the moment you finished your prayer, you were rewarded with two things: two dwarves carrying barrels, and a small corridor you almost missed if it hadn't been for someone came out of said corridor.

You took the opportunity without hesitation and slammed against the two unexpecting dwarves, who dropped the barrels in surprise. You managed to slip past them before the barrels hit the ground - like freaking Indiana Jones - skidding through the corridor with a sharp turn.

Without a second wasted, you pressed yourself against the wall like a ninja on a mission and held your breath. This was the moment of truth. There were two possibilities: either Dwalin wasn't fooled by the stunt, or he runs right by you. You prayed for the latter.

Lo and behold, for your prayers have been answered again! The deities really loved you at this moment, or just had lots of pity for you.

Dwalin ran past the corridor.

You let out the biggest sigh of relief in your life Patting yourself on the back, you turned around with a smile... Only to come face to face with the king of the mountain. The smug-ass had a knowing smirk on his face.

Shitpopcicles...

"Why are you so out of breath Y/N? You look as if a warg was on your heels." the smirk faltered as Thorin rubbed at his chin as if he were thinking.

The grin returned tenfold. "Is a certain dwarf chasing you, perhaps...?" His voice was teasing; he dang well knew why.

Oh, how you wished you could smack that smirk off his face, but sadly that was not a good idea. The bugger knows about your crush on Dwalin and teases you often.

He found out about it during the journey and he had always put you and Dwalin on watch together.

He shipped it, you just knew he did.

You pointed a threatening finger towards him. "Watch out, boy." You were close enough to Thorin to be the only one allowed to do something like this.

"Or this little lady won't hesitate to tell the whole damn mountain and a certain someone that you have a crush on a certain hobbit."

His face stayed the same - stoic and not moving - but you saw it at his softly reddening cheeks that your suspicions had been right. You grinned victoriously at Thorin, who stood there without uttering a word. Serves him right! Now you had blackmail. Internally, you were cackling evilly.

Your body froze while Thorin opened his mouth to speak. You felt as if Hell had just frozen over for that's when you heard it:

"You...!"

It sounded like thunder rumbling. Deep, rough and threatening. You would have totally been turned on if you weren't scared for your life.

Dwarfzilla was coming...

Without noticing it, you pushed Thorin to the side and ran like a madwoman. This is how it all happened. Now you're all caught up, so let's continue.

Fili and Kili had better sing tales about you after this.

You turned many corners and hallways, zooming past Dwarves who flushed themselves against the narrow walls in haste as you ran past them.

Some of them called out to you, but you couldn't hear what they said; Being chased doesn't really give you the time to stop and listen to what they had to say, now does it?

At one point, you began to notice the path becoming disproportionate and rough. Stones stuck out of the floor and walls. You tripped over a couple of those, those little buggers. Soon, it was as if you weren't in a hallway anymore, but in a cave instead.

Dwalin had been calling out to you after a while of running through the cave-like hallway. But the thing was, he didn't sound angry anymore.

He sounded worried, desperate even, which was very much out of character for Dwalin, to be honest...

Sadly, you hadn't had the time to realize why Dwalin acted the way he did before you dropped down a hole in the floor with a yelp. At least you found out why he was so concerned.

What a great day...

*(*)*(*)*

A short cry reverberated throughout the chamber, and a high pitched voice followed after.

"Could you be more gentle!?"

You glared at Dwalin, who like always, grunted his replies instead of talking like a normal Dwarf-being!

Though he did what you asked and rubbed the ointment on your bruises more gently, which felt like heaven on your sore skin...

You felt absolutely stupid, sitting on a wooden bench with Dwalin treating your bruises and wounds. (Oin was too busy to do it himself so he shoved ointment in Dwalin's hand. The other was holding you at that moment, for Dwalin wouldn't allow you to walk yourself. Oin said that Dwalin should do it before promptly leaving.) Dwalin had to pull you out of the hole, though he spoke more words than he had said to you this entire day. You counted that as a victory.

You still felt your heart flutter every time you thought about it: He had been extremely gentle, lifting you out of the hole with both his arms. Cradling you to his chest while muttering in dwarvish. Checking all over your body before caressing the back of your head and pressing it against his shoulder as he held you close. This time, you understood his mumbles: "Thank Mahal, yer safe," his voice was so quiet, wavering with raw emotion;

"never do anything like that ever again, ya hear me."

Dwalin was still shirtless and covered in glue and feathers during the entire ordeal.

Your heart had skipped multiple beats right then and there, cheeks flushed red. You had been trying to process those words the entire way to Oin. Still trying to figure out the meaning behind the words he uttered with such intensity.

You were brought out of your trance by Dwalin tapping on your shoulder, you looked over to see him staring at you, "Lift yer left foot."

You did as he asked, lifting your foot. Dwalin grasped it gently in one hand as he removed the boot delicately. If this was in a different situation, it would have been very intimate. No, wait, scratch that; it's intimate even now, which was not good for your heart, which was doing summersaults inside your chest. Yep, you were screwed...

So badly, and heavenly screwed.

Yet you couldn't find it in yourself to really mind.

Once Dwalin removed the boot and sock, he started to massage your foot with ointment, muttering to himself. "Why did ya let yerself be dragged in the princes' pranks."

It wasn't a question, but you answered anyway, "Those princes made me promise to help them out when I was drunk- don't look at me like that Dwalin! You know I never break promises, even if I made them while I was drunk."

He averted his eyes, stilling his ministrations slightly. "Ya need to learn to say no."

His voice was almost too soft to hear, but you did.

You huffed in return, "I'm getting better at it though! I said no to Fleder-Fledder something when he tried to get me to marry him!"

Dwalin chuckled, "Aye ya did. Ya kicked him good in the nuts."

"Well, he deserved it, I didn't even know him and wouldn't take no for an answer, so I had to make it clear."

You grinned at Dwalin as he shook his head, a smirk on his face.

Your eyes turned soft, remembering how Dwalin had positioned himself between the man and you when the man tried to grab you by the neck. Your hero had glared at the man fiercely, threatening to gut him with his axe if he didn't take the hint and shove off.

The man had pissed himself before he had sprinted off, too scared to utter a single word.

You had hugged Dwalin to thank him and since then, he only acknowledged you with grunts... That was the day before the feast.

Balin had said not to take it personally, that Dwalin needed time to sort himself out. But damn was it hard to not take it to heart.

"Why did you do it?"

The dam broke, spilling your most inner thoughts. Fumbling with your fingers, you stared at the ground, missing the confused look on Dwalin's face. "What?"

"Why did you ignore me after I hugged you?"

You were not gonna beat around the bush with this one. You made your bed, and now you need to lie in it.

"You didn't acknowledge me for three days. Balin said to give you space, so I did. But damnit Dwalin, you ignored me for three days! Why?"

You didn't mean for your voice to crack when you looked him in the eyes. You didn't mean for the tear to slip past. Dwalin's eyes widened in return. Very slightly, but you noticed. He averted his gaze to the ground for a second, placing your foot down gently and then looked up into your eyes.

"I...I got confused," he began, eyes full with emotions, some you couldn't even place. "I got confused...Emotions which I thought I had buried deep down, long ago resurfaced..." you blinked. Were his eyes getting glassy?

"They resurfaced tenfold. I didn't know what to do or think… I didn't think," he grabbed your hand in his delicately, tracing the skin with his thumb, never taking his eyes off you even once. "I threw up my walls in a panic, I shouldn't have, but I did..." he took in a deep breath. "Hurting those dear to me." Dwalin pressed his lips against your hand, it was gentle and soft. Butterflies fluttered inside your stomach.

"Y/N, lass, I truly regret putting ya through such pain. Could you forgive this fool of a dwarf?" He whispered, staring at you with pleading eyes.

You did what everyone would do in this situation.

You hit him on the head and yelled, "you idiot!!" and slapped against his chest multiple times. "I thought you hated me...!" Dwalin grabbed you by the waist and raised you into the air without much problem. He stared into your eyes with passion as he uttered one word.

"Never."

The two of you were only a small length apart. Without hesitating, you closed the distance, pressing your lips against his. He passionately returned the kiss, both of you closing your eyes as you relished the feeling of each other.

Yeah, you were on cloud nine alright. The touch of Dwalin's hands holding you so gently set your skin aflame. You could get used to this.

Parting to gasp for air, you glanced at Dwalin's face. Eyes lidded, and mouth slightly open. You smirked then, leaning in, you brushed your lips lightly against his.

He groaned in return.

"Yer doing things to me, lass," he pressed his head against yours, his eyes soft as he looked at you. "Be mine?"

You only nodded, leaning in for another kiss to seal the promise.

Yeah, today was a great day...

~~~~~

Thank you for reading! And keep soaring high!^^

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#dwalin x reader #hobbit x reader #hobbit dwalin x reader #dwalin #fili #kili #thorin #oin #gloin #bifur #bofur #bombur #balin #bagginshield #bilbo #bilbo baggins #the hobbit #sora's writings

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just-a-poor-boy-queen · 3 years

Note

I've had a really hard day today and I saw someone wanted more Jimary crack, so I decided to write it to cheer myself up. I hope three fics in a row isn't too excessive. (All credit goes to the anon who suggested this.)

‘She’s drunk.’ Joe said very matter-of-factly, lifting his wine glass to his lips, only to discover there was nothing left in it.

‘Very drunk.’ Replied Phoebe, reaching for the bottle nearby and giving them both a refill.

It wasn’t as though they had never seen Mary drunk before. She was usually all giggly and bouncy after a few drinks, perhaps more talkative than usual and, in Joe’s opinion, far less uptight. But they had never seen her like this; her eyes heavy lidded, downing her wine like it was water and clumsily swaying to the music that filled the busy lounge, stumbling every now and again to keep her balance. She was clearly taking her break up with Piers very badly.

‘Freddie’s livid.’ Joe murmured, glancing over at the singer who appeared to be deep in conversation with Peter Straker, but kept glancing over at the intoxicated woman who was trying to coax Brian into dancing with her, much to the displeasure of Anita. ‘Prepare yourself for a screaming match later on.’

‘I already have the popcorn ready.’

Mary eventually gave up on Brian and loudly announced she was heading into the kitchen for another bottle of rosé, almost stepping on Delilah as she staggered through the door. She surveyed the kitchen a moment, the room spinning as her alcohol consumption finally caught up with her, before she noticed Jim sitting alone at the kitchen table, trying unsuccessfully to uncork a large bottle of champagne between his knees.

She had always been a little jealous of Jim. Before he came along, she had always held out hope that Freddie might return to her one day, discover he wasn’t actually into men or something daft like that. But then this Irishman appeared, who wasn’t like Freddie’s other boyfriends; for the first time, it seemed like Freddie was in love and ready to settle down, happy in a way she had never seen him before. It had been hard for her to accept; but when Piers had finally had enough of her obsession and left her, she realised that she would never be able to properly move on with her life if she kept latching on to the past. She had to let Freddie go. She had to accept that, while they would always be friends, Freddie was gay and what they had all those years ago was over.

Jim noticed her hovering and looked up, giving her a small smile. ‘Enjoying the party?’

Mary hummed in response, going to the cupboard where the booze was kept and digging around until she found the rosé she was looking for. When she looked back at Jim, he still hadn’t managed to remove the cork and was quietly cursing under his breath in his thick Irish accent.

It was quite a nice voice, her inebriated mind told her.

‘You have a lovely voice.’ She suddenly said aloud, her words slurred. She wobbled up to him, heels clinking against the kitchen tiles as she unscrewed the top of the rosé bottle. ‘Where is it you’re from again?’

Jim blinked at her dumbly. He wasn’t used to Mary initiating conversation like this; she was usually so reserved. ‘Um, a town called Carlow. It’s near Dublin.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Mary drawled and without any warning, she suddenly plopped herself down in Jim's lap, making him jump in surprise. ‘Ireland is sss-such a lovely place. Lots of sheep there.’

Jim’s face went red, and he carefully set the champagne bottle down on the table. ‘Yeah, I suppose there are.’

Much to his horror, Mary put the bottle of rosé to her lips and began downing the drink ruthlessly, not stopping until it was almost half empty. When she finally stopped, she carelessly abandoned the bottle next to the champagne and turned around to stare Jim directly in the eyes, her smile disturbingly wide.

‘You have beautiful eyes.’ She garbled, moving her finger as if she was going to poke them out, but she instead ended up giving him a weird boop on the nose. ‘And your arms are so big.’ She reached down to squeeze his bicep, giggling like a schoolgirl. ‘I bet you’re really strong. Remember when you lifted me up at Freddie’s birthday party?’

Jim remembered. He was so plastered that night he had almost dropped her on her head.

‘Are you feeling alright, Mary?’ he asked warily, not comfortable with how close their faces were.

‘I’m wonderful, Jim.’ Mary giggled again, though it sounded a little manic. ‘I really, really want to dance. Will you dance with me, Jim?’

‘I’m not much of a dancer, Mary.’ Jim coughed, glancing over his shoulder in hope that someone might come through the kitchen door and save him.

‘That’s not true! I’ve seen you dance!’ Mary insisted, pulling at his hands, ‘come on.’

Jim didn’t have the energy to argue with her, already a little tipsy himself, and he allowed her to drag him into the middle of the kitchen, face filling with colour as Mary threw her arms around his neck and sagged all of her body weight against him. He realised rather quickly that if he let her go, she’d probably fall face first onto the floor and never get up again.

The next five minutes had to be the most uncomfortable of his entire life, as he swayed in awkward circles with his husband’s ex-girlfriend, mindfully trying to keep his hands off her waist. He wasn’t a religious man, but in that moment, he prayed to every God in existence that someone would call him from the lounge and rescue him from this predicament.

Mary suddenly lifted her head from his shoulder and whispered in his ear. ‘Marry me, Jim.’

The Irishman stared down at her, eyes comically wide. ‘Beg your pardon?’

‘Marry me.’ Mary grinned at him, leaning so close that for one horrible moment he thought she might try to kiss him. ‘We can have lots of beautiful Irish babies together.’

Jim sighed. Next time they had a party, he was going to replace Mary’s wine with Ribena. ‘I’m very flattered by your offer, but there are two problems; I’m gay and I’m married to Freddie.’

‘Oh bugger.’ Said Mary, as if she had forgotten that detail. ‘You can still marry me though. We can run away to Cardiff together.’

‘Carlow, Mary.’

Her face suddenly fell and she stepped away from him, looking betrayed. 'Is it because of the cats?'

'The what?'

‘That's why you don't want to marry me, isn't it?’ Mary's lip trembled as if she was about to cry. ‘Freddie has cats and I don't!'

‘Mary, I’m going to get you some water.’ Jim replied, making a beeline for the sink.

‘No, don’t leave!’ Mary grabbed his sleeve, trying to tug him back. ‘Stay with me, Jim. I'll buy you all the cats you want!’

‘You’ll feel much better after drinking this.’ Jim said firmly, pouring a glass of water and turning around to hand it to her. As soon as he did, her lips were suddenly pressed against his own, arms locked around his neck so there was no escape as he yelled against her mouth in surprise.

‘Mary!’ he roared, as soon as she released him, half the water having spilled onto the floor during the struggle. ‘What the bloody hell are you playing at?!’

Mary grinned; lipstick smudged across her face, so she looked like the Joker. ‘I’ve never kissed an Irishman before. Does that make me Irish now?’

Before Jim could even answer, she suddenly dry heaved; he grabbed her and stuck her head into the sink as she vomited up the contents of her stomach.

‘What the fuck happened?’ Freddie demanded, as Jim walked into the lounge, his shirt ruffled, a smear of red lipstick on his mouth and a very drunk Mary giggling uncontrollably in his arms.

‘Your ex-girlfriend asked me to marry her, then threw up.’ Jim replied, as if this was a normal occurrence. ‘I’m going to put her in one of the guest rooms so she can sleep it off.’

He turned and walked out of the lounge before anyone could respond. Freddie clenched his glass so hard it was a miracle it didn’t shatter in his hand.

‘I’m going to murder her!’ he growled, lunging towards the door, only for Phoebe to grab him from behind and hoist him up. ‘Let me go! That backstabbing homewrecker is trying to abscond with my husband!’

‘Take it easy, Fred.’ Phoebe said calmly, holding onto the man effortlessly. ‘You can kill her tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, we haven’t even had dessert yet.’ Said Joe, holding onto Freddie's legs to stop him from kicking. ‘I spent all fucking day slaving over that baked Alaska, you’re eating it whether you like it or not!’

Firstly, I am so sorry you are having a hard day. I feel terrible that whilst you are doing so much to entertain us with this outrageous crackship, you are not having a good time. I can just hope that writing these stories bring you as much joy as they bring us.

And now, the fic. I AM WHEEZING. First of all, I fucking love Joe. Even though we've never heard him speak, or ever listened to his words through his own perspective, I feel that your characterisation is so realistic. His dessert comment slayed me lmao.

And oof, Mary being drunk off her ass is my new favourite trope. And lmao her thinking that Jim doesnt want to marry her because she doesn't have cats😂😂😂 Leave him alone, Mary. He doesn't want to have irish babies with you.

And hahahahaha Freddie's reaction is as epic as I had envisioned. And god, this is another nightmare that Jim isn't going to recover from soon.

This is such a fantastic crackship, omg. I absolutely loved this💙💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)

Also anon, if you ever want to talk, you can always dm me, if you are comfortable of course🧡

#ask response #jim hutton #freddie mercury #jimary #crack ship #anon writing #phoebe freestone #joe fanelli #brian may #anita dobson

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oliverwxod · 4 years

Text

The hardest part is letting go (Geralt imagine) - Part 4

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, angst

Summary: Part 4 to this

"You've been grumpy these past few days" Jaskier pointed out. The two of them were sitting away from a group of people on the hunt for a certain kind of monster or creature that no one knew of. Not even Geralt at this point.

The sun was just setting in the West, a deep orange hue reflecting off of the trees, creeping through the branches and leaves in a starry pattern, Y/n couldn’t help but focus on the side of Jaskiers face where a perfect circle of the sun had chosen to rest upon his skin for the next few minutes.

Geralt was sitting with the group across from them, glaring at the floor as he sharpened a piece of wood into a dagger shape, the others all spoke around him, ignoring his mood as this was how the expected him to be. He was a Witcher and they weren’t known for being friendly.

"M'fine" she mumbles in reply to Jaskiers question, pushing her food around with a makeshift fork.

"Really convincing" he chuckled momentarily before seeing the sadness hiding in her expression. “You know that you can talk to me?” he spoke seriously, a tone that was not fitting on Jaskier.

"do you ever just feel- sad?" She asked quietly, staring slightly across the way at the setting sun, wishing life was as simple as the beauty and peacefulness of watching a sun rise and sunset. Jaskier sighed deeply, sending her a sympathetic look that she missed by not paying full attention.

"I know who you're talking about" he spoke. Sending a quick glance at the white haired Witcher who was still glaring at the ground across the way. He had also been in a mood the past week, however his was more prominent and known to everyone in the way he spoke in even shorter sentences than normal.

"Yeah well- I don’t know how to feel, I've never experienced a feeling like this staying with me for this long” she mumbled.

“It takes time” Jaskier said quietly in return. “it always takes time to heal- time or-” he trailed off .

“time or what?” she asked catching the hesitation.

“time or space” he said lowly. He did not mean to put that idea in her head.

“space?” she asked. “as in- I don't know - like leave?”.

“I don’t think that would help.” Jaskier said quickly.”Plus you can’t”

“you make it sound like I'm a prisoner Jaskier” she said laughing gently.

He gave her a side smile, happy to see an ounce of joy on her face; both of them missing the intense glare Geralt was giving the two of them who looked to be in a deep conversation.

“I know you’re hurting” he spoke softly, giving her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Just give it time”

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

He’d fucked up. Geralt knew this. He fucked up badly, he should have never put the two of them in a situation like that. He swore he would always keep things professional but he crossed that line and there was no way to go back and change what had happened.

Geralt hated conversations, he was hardly the man who would ever start one which Is why he had been waiting so long to talk to Y/n. He assumed she would be the first to come to him and ask to talk to him, but she hadn’t. In fact she had been acting as if nothing had happened between them; instead he only received short clipped sentences and answers to his questions, or silent nods with a blank look in her eyes.

He didn’t realise how much she was hurting, nor would he unless she said it out loud and clear.

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

The monster turned out to be a hoax, a figure of the imagination which someone had spread around the village creating widespread fear and terror.

This only worsened Geralt’s mood, time wasted, precious time where he could be earning coin.

“well at least the scenery was nice” Jaskier spoke cheerfully, trying to lighten the sour mood. The atmosphere was tense as it had been the past week and he was getting sick of Geralt’s foul mood.

“Yeah, the sunsets were amazing” Y/n added, smiling softly at Jaskier. He smiled slightly in thanks to her for replying and at least trying to have a conversation.

“Sunsets don’t earn coin” Geralt grunted, Jaskier rolling his eyes at Y/n making her chuckle quietly.

“and neither does being a brooding old man” Y/n huffed back under her breath, immediately regretting it as Geralt stopped in his way and turned to face her.

“Old?” he questioned, one eyebrow raising in surprise. Is that what she really thought of him.

Jaskier winced slightly at the look on Geralt's face, knowing he was either about to laugh or go into an even worse mood, Jaskier hoped it was the first. When Y/n didn’t reply he grunted.

“oh princess” he shook his head “you’re going to regret saying that”

“yeah?’ she questioned challenging him, a glimpse of a moment when everything seemed to go back to normal, the old sense of banter returning “what are you going to do-”

A loud piercing scream sounded, startling them all including Geralt who had been too engrossed in finally speaking to Y/n.

Y/n immediately ran towards the sound, Geralt’s mind not kicking in until she was 20 meters or so away from him, his Witcher senses coming second for once. He followed quickly his heart thumping in its cage as Y/n was only just in his sight.

“Princess” he yelled hoping she would slow down, but she was stubborn. The scream sounded again and Geralt ran faster, catching up quickly to Y/n, grabbing her almost roughly by the shirt and pulling her behind him in a slight panic as they came to a clearing in the woods.

A mother and baby were behind a large tree stump, a Wyvern flying overhead of them, swooping in low towards them, Y/n shouted as the Wyvern got closer to the mother and baby, its tongue snaking out in a hiss. Geralts hold on her had tightened as she tried to escape to run towards them.

“I'm warning you Y/n” he spoke in a deep threatening voice.

“I can’t just watch them get killed” she almost growled in anger at him, trying to remove his hold on her.

“I won’t let that happen” he spoke trying to reassure her but she wouldn’t listen. A quick punch to the side of his jaw momentarily startled him, he didn’t see it coming, the last thing he expected to come from her. It was fairly unnecessary but Y/n had been wanting to that for a while and it was the perfect opportunity.

She quickly escaped his arms, running towards the mother and child, the Wyvern quickly becoming distracted by her, circling her as she ran. Geralt was hot on her heals after recovering from the shock of her punch, trying to grab at her, but she dodged past him at every chance until she knelt to the ground, mud coating her knees as she reached the mother and baby, cowering slightly over them to protect them from the beast.

Geralt huffed angrily as he stared at her, deeming it safe for a while that he could taunt the Wyvern enough to distract it away from the three of them and slay it himself.

He had killed a creature like this many of times, it was fairly easy and tame for him so it didn’t take barely 5 minutes of his time, a taunt of a game, and a slash of a silver sword straight through its neck, killed the beast immediately.

“it’s gone now, it’s okay” Y/n spoke hushed to the traumatised pair.

“T-thank you- thank you so much” the woman spoke “Please, come with us” she said standing up “we have an Inn, food and drink and a bed, it’s the least we can do to repay you”

“what did I miss?” Jaskier spoke appearing out of the woods, out of breath and red in the face.

Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle, half in relief and half in surprise at how everything just happened so quickly. However, one glance at Geralt told her just how unhappy he was with her.

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

That’s how they ended up in the Inn, a quietness fallen upon the room as Y/n sat down on the edge of the bed. Geralt stood across the room, staring out of the large window that overlooked a small stream. The moon reflected off the water, creating a serene glow throughout the room, hitting the side of Y/n’s face as she cradled her hand with her other in pain.

“What happened?” Geralt asked after quickly surveying her actions.

“Your face happened” she mumbled.

Geralt scoffed “you didn’t have to hit me”

“I wanted to” she spoke. “would have done it either way”

“why?” he asked quickly, his face pulling into a deep frown.

“Because-” she halted, a flush on her cheeks creeping up surely he must have known why she was so pissed at him, he was clever and it didn’t take a man of much intelligence to figure it out.

“because what?” he asked.

“because you slept with that witch!” she spoke in an almost whine.

Geralt halted, a numbness freezing over him as he took in her words. She had been mad about that this whole time and not what he had thought. He thought she was angry over the fact that he slept with her, took her virginity and she regretted it.

“Princess-”

“no. It doesn’t matter. I know I shouldn’t be hurt by it- but - it’s hard not to Geralt. You wouldn’t understand.” she said, her voice getting quieter and quieter.

“why wouldn’t I understand?” he demanded.

“Because you’re a Witcher! You don’t know this feeling” she argued. “You don’t know how to be a human or-”

“Princess-”

“and you don’t even try to understand sometimes, it’s like you expect-”

“Listen to me” he spoke getting slightly annoyed that she wasn’t letting him speak. She startled slightly not realising she had gone on a slight ramble. “I didn’t think you knew about that, about me and-”

“that whore” she spoke glaring at him.

“Y/n” he glared back, her glare turning slightly sheepish.

“then why have you been such a bitch all week?” she huffed.

“a bitch?”

“yes. It’s been hell to be around you this week”

“I thought you were mad because you regretted it” he said, the statement making them both pause, they hadn’t spoken about what they had done, this was the first time either of them had openly addressed it.

“You- you really thought I regretted it?” she asked quietly, chewing on the bottom of her lip in nervousness. She didn’t want to look up, she didn’t want to see his expression.

He sighed out loud at how much of a mess this situation was. This was exactly why he didn’t do feelings or involve himself with personal matters, it got confusing and he didn’t have the time for it. But he guessed he could make time for it now. He was mean’t to protect her after all.

“I didn’t” she spoke, the words reassuring him slightly, but then the fact hit him that she had seen him. She had seen him make a mistake by sleeping with Yennifer and that was something he couldn’t take back.

“didn’t or don’t?” he asked, voice deep and only just a little hesitant.

“don’t” she replied, a throbbing of her hand suddenly gaining her attention again as she flinched.

Geralt moved from where he stood, confidently reaching for her hand, holding it in his gently as he surveyed the damage that was caused by her punch.

“You should have said” he spoke.

“what? that I don’t regret it?”

“Yes. But also the fact that your wrist is clearly fractured” he said sternly, as he turned her hand in his so her palm was facing downwards, a deep purple bruise splashed onto her skin, spanning the length of her hand and the first few inches of her wrist.

“it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt” she lied knowing he would pick up on it immediately.

“hmmm” he grunted, “if you say so”

“did you regret it? do you regret it? is that why you’ve been in such a foul mood?” she asked quietly.

“Y/n” he sighed.

“so you do?” she spoke, humiliation starting to set in, as she stood up, wanting nothing more than to leave the room.

Geralt was quick to pull her back down so she was sitting on the bed beside him now.

“don’t run” he said calmly, it was quiet for a few moments before he carried on speaking, trying to find the words to say to her. “I don’t regret it Y/n. God it was something I had been trying so hard not to let myself think about”

“why?”

“Because I'm meant to protect you" he spoke. "It was what I was paid to do"

"You don't need to" she huffed.

"I do and I can't do that if I don't have a clear mind.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, she didn't know if she actually wanted to know.

"It means I'm not good at this stuff" he spoke "and that will only serve to hurt you which in return will only create more anger and frustration and that is not an ideal environment to be in."

"I still don't know what you mean" she said, frowning in confusion at the riddles he was spurting.

"You will grow to hate me. And if that happens it will be harder to protect you" he sighed, running a hand through the front of his hair as he set his gaze onto her face, seeing the confusion.

"It's simple though" she spoke, shaking her head slightly in amusement as if it were obvious.

"It's not simple" he said.

"It's is, just don't hurt me and I won't hate you Geralt. Hell even if you did I could never hate you" she spoke, eyes meeting his. He shook his head.

"Y/n" he said, his tone serious, the hint of a smile her face held disappearing at the tone.

"I can't-"

"Geralt-"

"No." He spoke, holding a hand up to silence her. "I'm sorry Y/n, but I can't, we can't and I don't want to hear anymore of this okay?" He hated himself, hated the words coming out of his mouth, but it was for the best.

A Princess did not belong with a Witcher.

He spared a glance at her, making sure his face gave nothing away but the blank stare of finality. She wasn't looking at him, head bowed to the floor, she gave a small nod her heart breaking more inside with every step Geralt took towards the door.

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

These took forever to do aha, please let me know what you think/ like and reblog would be appreciated xx

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#Geralt imagine #Geralt smut #Geralt x reader #Geralt angst #Geralt fanfic #the Witcher imagine #the Witcher fanfic #the Witcher x reader #jaskier imagine #the Witcher smut #the witcher #Geralt of rivia #Geralt of rivia imagine

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angelinasway · 3 years

Text

Regaining Hope

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers

Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut

Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: I should first say that this takes place about eight and a half years after the first arc of the Season 8 Buffy Comics, however I’m only using aspects of cannon. The back story will not follow the comics as you will be able to see pretty quickly in this chapter. Secondly, I actually really do love Lois so please don’t bash me for being self-indulgent by wanting to see my two favorite Superheroes get together. I can promise you all that there will be no Lois bashing in this fic. Thirdly, as far as Clark’s story goes it follows Man Of Steel so if you’ve seen the movie you know his story. Thanks for giving this a chance I hope you all enjoy reading. Also thank you to my wonderful beta Hipkarma for giving this chapter a look for me. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Chapter One

Buffy lurched as the helicopter made touchdown onto the ice. She closed her eyes briefly, mentally preparing herself for what was sure to be a battle of wills between her and one Colonel Hardy. She hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet, but just by his photo she could tell he was going to be a pain in the ass. There wasn’t much love lost between the Watchers Council and the U.S military. Not since Maggie Walsh and the Initiative, and certainly not since General Voll. The Governments of the world as a whole always seemed to have a really bad habit of sticking their noses in things they just didn't understand, hence why she was here in the freezing Canadian Arctic in the first place. Willow had created a program that had been monitoring all military chatter since Voll decided to commandeer Amy and a skinlessly resurrected Warren to attack the W.C. Headquarters in Scotland. That had been almost ten years ago, and since then Buffy had been dealing with countless other countries attempting to harness power or create weapons out of a force that they just didn’t seem to understand could never be controlled. The U.S however, had managed to keep their noses pretty clean since General Voll, even going as far as to work with her and ask for her help when needed. That’s why it was such a surprise to find out that they had found something buried in the snow that predated civilization and were trying to keep it under wraps. Especially from the W.C. And to make matters worse, she was just coming off a week-long mission from hell. Just last week she caught Russia restarting their subspecies research facility and when the shit had finally hit the fan, she had been forced to send in a team resulting in the deaths of two of her girls. After that, she and Wesley had spent the next day getting a hold of the girl’s families, which of course left her holding a big-ol-bag of guilt and the nightmares and sleepless nights to go along with it. So, to say she was cranky and pissed to hear about the U.S. keeping stuff from her would have been an understatement. She was furious! However, she was also willing to give them the benefit of the doubt that maybe this actually wasn’t her jurisdiction. The Helicopter door slid open pulling her from her mental preparation. She blinked when her eyes met a pair of startlingly brilliant blues, surrounded by a handsomely rugged face, and scruffy beard. A green baseball cap adorned his head, hiding what she assumed from the few strands that were messily poking out of the brim was hair so brown it was almost black. He was probably somewhere in his mid-twenties, though on second inspection his eyes held the maturity of someone closer to her age. “Here let me help you.” He said loudly, so his voice could be heard over the whirling of the propeller and the grind of the engine. He held out a large gloved hand as she undid her seat belt and stood on unsteady legs. Her own gloved hand reaching for the strangers. As soon as her hand touched his however, she gasped, almost recoiling in fear, her inner Slayer rearing her head at the sudden sensation of power. And wow, was it powerful. She had never sensed anything like what was behind this man’s strong grip in all her years of slaying. It didn’t feel mystical in nature and it certainly wasn’t demonic. It was almost foreign, as if it didn’t belong here. Strength knew strength however, no matter where it originated from and her Slayer sensed him with a voraciousness that she had never experienced before. She felt a bit light headed and weak kneed by the sensation, and she had to shake her head to clear it of the roaring in her ears. Her eyes shot to his, widening in bewilderment and for a split second he had the look of a dear caught in the headlights. It was gone the next instant though, and a mask of a charmingly shy and unassuming guy replaced it. ‘Quick reflexes then, and someone who’s used to hiding in plain sight.’ The look worked well on him and she admired the quick cover. Only someone who had been living a double life could pull off a cover like that. Regardless of her admiration though, she needed to know if this guy was a threat or not. Especially with the way her Slayer was chomping at the bit and her heart pounding in her ears. So, she squeezed his hand slightly harder than she’d ever dare on someone human, just to let him know he wasn’t the only one standing there that was something other. It had the desired effect, though the fact that he didn’t wince was a little unnerving. His eyes shot to hers as she passed him, an innocent mixture of awe, curiosity, and fear burning in his irises. She knew then. He was no threat to her. The eyes were the windows to the soul and there was no doubt this man or whatever he was, had one. Plus, there was no way anyone could pull off a look that full of innocence if they had nefarious intentions. She removed her hand, breaking the overstimulation to her senses. She tried her best to cover what she had just felt by giving him a brilliant smile and winking conspiratorially. “Normally I would be worried about anyone carrying my bags considering how heavy they are, but something tells me it’s not gonna be a problem with you.” “Buffy Summers?” A new voice asked, distracting her from her assessment of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Muscular. She turned to meet the kind eyes of another man not much older than herself. "Hi." She said in greeting, reaching her hand out to shake. "Jed Eubanks, Arctic Cargo, nice to finally meet you, Miss Summers." Buffy raised an eyebrow in surprise, side eyeing Mr. Powerful for any reaction. "You heard of me?" She asked, watching the stranger’s reaction. When all she got was a look of curiosity and befuddlement her hackles finally lowered enough to completely believe that whatever or whoever he was didn’t have to do with her being here. Eubanks grinned, commanding her full attention as he said, “Little more than that, I was stationed in Afghanistan about five years ago. My chopper went down near Baghaln.” Buffy winced. “I remember that, a terrorist organization had commissioned hellhounds and were feeding their hostages to them.” “Saw you fighting that day.” He nodded. “Never seen anything like it in my life.” He paused, almost as if he was gathering up the courage to continue. “I was next in line you know, if it wasn’t for you and yours, I’d have been dog chow. I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life Miss Summers.” Buffy smiled softly at the man. It had been a while since she’d been thanked so sincerely. She linked her arm with his. “Call me Buffy, I’m sure I’m gonna have Miss Summers shouted at me enough today to give me flashbacks of high school.” Eubanks laughed. “Well, least you know you got one person rooting for you.” Buffy’s eyes traveled back to the mysterious stranger, who had been watching them with rapt attention. Questions, fear, and confusion still simmering in his eyes. She imagined it was very much similar to the look she was giving him, curiosity brimming over like an over flowing stream. She gave him a small nod of acknowledgment, hoping he understood it was her way of saying they would speak later, before she turned back to Jed and plastered on a huge smile. “Now show me where this camp is. The sooner I get this over with, the happier I’ll be.”

******

Clark watched the young blonde woman walk away with Jed, his heart galloping in his chest. She knew. Somehow, she was able to sense he was different. Part of him was horrified at the prospect of her walking into the basecamp below and announcing to the entire camp what and who he was. It was an old fear, one that had guided him and comforted him on cold lonely nights. If he just kept disappearing, no one would ever know the truth. Another part of him however, was beyond curious about her. How could she sense him like that, was she an alien too? When she squeezed his hand earlier it hadn’t hurt, but had he been a normal man it very well may have fractured a bone or two, and he doubted she just went around breaking people’s bones for the fun of it. No, she had definitely been testing his strength, which begged the question, how did she get hers? The military seemed to know her pretty well however, and even Jed himself had encountered her five years ago in Afghanistan. Which almost seemed impossible, because she really didn’t look much older than twenty-two. God, she was beautiful though, with those bright green eyes that looked older and far more tired than someone her age should be allowed to be. She was just the kind of girl he would have only dreamed of asking out when he was younger. He shook his head, finally forcing his eyes away from her retreating form, but keeping his hearing locked on her until he was sure he wouldn’t have to make a sudden and quick exit. He reached for the two duffle bags she brought with her, the first one pretty light and obviously full of clothes and toiletries. The second one however, was quite heavy and when he heard the sound of metal clanging against metal, he did a quick scan of the items in her bag and almost recoiled in shock. It was like a medieval arsenal in there, three sharp looking swords, a wicked looking red and silver axe, six daggers, four sharp looking wooden stakes, two flasks filled with some type of fluid, a cross, two pistols, a shotgun, and a pair of night vision goggles. ‘Who is this girl!’

******

“Colonel Hardy I presume.” Buffy said with a saccharine smile, holding out her hand to shake. Not at all surprised when he didn’t return the greeting. She then turned to the elderly gentlemen to his right. Her smile softening in recognition. “Dr. Hamilton, how many times do we have to run into each other before I can convince you to ditch these macho elitists and come work for me.” “Miss Summers, always a pleasure.” He said with an amused smile, side eyeing Hardy’s annoyed frown. “I wasn’t aware that you had clearance for this project?” Colonel Hardy said a little too arrogantly. Buffy’s smile grew, oh she was going to love putting this man in his place. “Oh, you wouldn’t, orders went through about,” She looked at her watch. “thirty minutes ago. You should probably be getting a call from General Swanwick any minute now.” Just as predicted, a young soldier came through the door the next second and Buffy couldn’t help the smug smile that crossed her lips. "Sir, General Swanwick is on SATCOM." It was immediate. The look of self-assurance morphed into pure annoyance within the span of mere seconds, and it was worth every bit of discomfort she was sure to receive in the next few days of her stay. Sure enough, Hardy did not disappoint. He excused himself and as he passed the officer he said, "Please ready Miss Summers accommodations and make sure they're as sparse as possible." Buffy chuckled in amusement, looking at Dr. Hamilton with a conspiratorial twinkle. "If he thinks making me crap in a bucket is gonna offend my delicate sensibility, he's mistaken." The Doctor chuckled, "I wasn't aware you had a delicate bone in your body Miss Summers." She snorted, "I hide it well." Her eyes then traveled to the scientific equipment obviously used for monitoring the anomaly. "So why don't you bring me up to speed on this find of yours, before Hardy comes back and attempts to make my life a living hell." Dr. Hamilton shook his head, leading her over to a computer screen with what looked to be a satellite image. "You do seem to enjoy ruffling their feathers." “Well, what can I say, never been much of a fan of authoritarianism. Also, not exactly easy to trust an entity that’s tried to have you killed more than once.” Buffy said, as she leaned over to get a better look at the dark blob like shape covered by layers of snow and ice. “So, what am I looking at? An Old Ones sarcophagus?” “We don’t believe its demonic in origin.” Dr. Hamilton stated. Buffy frowned in confusion, “But weren’t the samples of ice taken around the object more than twenty thousand years old? If it’s not demonic, what the hell do you think it is?” “A vessel Miss Summers,” Colonel Hardy said, walking back in the room. “A vessel not of this world.” Buffy blinked and turned around. “When you say not of this world, I’m assuming you mean…” Hardy’s smirk was patronizing. “That’s right Miss Summers, extraterrestrials. A spaceship. A topic I might add, that you know absolutely nothing about.” Buffy rolled her eyes, “Oh, as if you do.” “I know more than you Miss Summers.” Hardy responded indignantly. Buffy snorted in derision, her lip curling at this man’s stupidity. “So, what happens if you dig this thing up and you’ve got a violent alien that’s been sleeping in stasis for the last twenty thousand years?” Buffy shook her head. “Furthermore, I’ve seen Alien. What if the aliens inside crash landed on earth because a giant fucking Xenomorph is inside?” “I can assure you Miss Summers we’re taking every…” Buffy threw her arms in the air. Finally losing her patience. It looked like she was the one who was actually going to be doing the yelling today. This was just so typical, as if she didn’t have enough on her plate with Russia and Sudan creating their own Initiative-like secret facilities. “The fuck you are!” She shouted. “See this is the problem with you guys,” she pointed. “This is what happens, this is always what happens!” She started to pace, her fists clenched at her sides, uncaring of the sudden wary looks she was receiving by both Dr. and Colonel, as well as the few other scientists and soldiers in the room. “You discover something…for instance that demons and monsters exist, and instead of just killing it or leaving it the hell alone, you gotta study it, dissect it, see how it works, until eventually you’re trying to harness its power for yourselves!” She shook her head in disgust, “And do you wanna know who always has to clean up the mess? Me,” She pressed her fist against her chest, “It’s always me.” Her voice softened then, a sigh whistling between her teeth as her eyes locked on both a flabbergasted Dr. Hamilton and Colonel Hardy. Okay, maybe she went a little to far there. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame them for the previous week. “It’s not…If I was only dealing with this kinda stuff once in a while I wouldn’t be so cranky. I apologise for insinuating anything about anyone in this room.” She shook her head. “It’s just every single country on earth has their fingers in the demonic cesspool one way or another and I’m getting really sick of doing damage control on top of all my other Slayer duties, not to mention the lovely annual apocalypse that never really takes a vacation. Throw aliens in the mix now and the fact that I haven’t slept very well in a week and yeah, Buffy’s stress level just hit a new high.” Colonel Hardy’s disposition seemed to soften slightly at her words and he stepped forward, “I heard about Russia and am very sorry for your loss.” He sighed, “But we aren’t them, Miss Summers. I’m willing to play ball. Please let me be the first to promise, if we find anything that could be deemed even slightly dangerous as far as alien lifeforms go, we will hand it over to you immediately, without question.” She chewed on his words for a moment, figuring this was the best she was going to get as far as cordial cooperation went, and figured she throw out an olive branch so he knew she really wasn’t trying to step on his toes. “Yeah,” Buffy agreed, sighing with a nod. “Yeah, okay. And if it’s really just a ship I have no problem with giving you free rein on any alien technology you find. Just…just do me a favor, don’t make me regret this by killing us all with it.” Hardy cracked a smile then, “Alright Miss Summers, I think I can agree to that.” And surprisingly enough, he held out his hand to make it official.

****

Clark was more than impressed with the young woman who had pretty much wormed her way into his heart without her even knowing it. She was feisty as all hell; he'd heard her entire conversation and had been caught chuckling to himself a few times. Considering how quiet and reserved he normally was, the other guys on the crew were probably thinking he'd gone insane. There were a few things that were talked about that confused him however. Like her speaking about demons and monsters like they exist. Though, considering the fact that he existed, he wasn't all that surprised there could be something out there that was possibly a greater threat than even himself. He was just surprised he'd never run into anything of the sort before, especially considering how long he'd been traveling. Then again, he never really actively sought out situations where he was a savior, those situations usually just kind of found him. Buffy however, spoke as if she had been doing these types of things regularly for years. So much so, that not only was the military aware of her, but they had deemed her a threat on more than one occasion. He could certainly relate to that, for he knew if they had any idea of what he could do, they would do everything in their power to either try and kill him or use him as a weapon. And that was something Clark absolutely refused to have happen. It not only would disgrace his father’s memory, but it would spit on the very sacrifice John Kent made for him. When he was younger, he always thought that the fear his father sometimes wore on his face was because his father was afraid of him. It was one of the things that had led to the words he used the day his dad died. He remembered how frustrated he was that day; his father was being so stubborn about letting him go to college. He remembered thinking it was because his dad wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him anymore. That he was so afraid of his son hurting someone…that he would never let him leave Smallville. Then that tornado hit, tearing Clark’s entire world to shreds and he was never able to tell his dad he didn’t mean what he said. It was his father’s sacrifice that finally made him realize that all that fear and distrust he saw etched in his dad’s eyes was never directed at Clark at all. His father had always trusted him, it was mankind that he was so afraid of. So, revealing himself to the world was absolutely out of the question. However, for the first time in Clark’s entire life, he felt he might have someone else he could trust enough to confide in. The simple fact that she hadn’t told anyone what she suspected about him was almost enough to make him trust her. The fact that she didn’t want the military to get their hands on an alien, for fear of what they would use it for and the harm it could cause to the human race also helped greatly in making him want to trust her. She was incredibly cautious about how they should go about unearthing the vessel and spoke of bringing in a witch friend of hers to put a ward around it in case there was something dangerous inside. It truly was a sound plan; it would let them be able to open the ship without accidentally releasing some deadly creature or virus by mistake. It’s also the reason he was now changing his plans of waiting a few days before he went in search of the ship. He hadn’t known magic existed until a few minutes ago and he had no idea if he was vulnerable to it or not. He didn’t think so, but he sure as hell wasn’t willing to stick around and find out. As much as he agreed with Buffy’s plan and admired her caution, he knew in his gut that this might be his only opportunity to find out where he came from. Something deep inside of him told him that the answers he sought were on that ship. He dropped the bags off at her trailer after Jed had informed him which belonged to her, noticing how sparse the accommodations were. Just like Colonel Hardy had ordered. There was only a cot, blanket, pillow, space heater, and sure enough in the corner was a bucket and a roll of toilet paper. He shook his head in amusement, apparently this was not the first time she was forced to rough it. He could hear her and Colonel Hardy heading this way, discussing the ship and what other precautions might be taken to ensure that no one would get hurt. On an absolutely and unexpected whim, Clark pulled out the notepad he’d been keeping in the inside pocket of his jacket and wrote down the first thing that popped in his head. He didn’t know what made him do it, and he hoped she didn’t take it the wrong way. The poem was called “I am” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, and he didn’t really remember the entire thing, but the first verse had stuck with him. He quickly ripped the sheet of paper off the spiral, folding it, and tucking the sheet under her bag where just the edge could be seen. He stuffed the notepad and pen in his back pocket, getting to the door just as they were walking up. Their eyes found each other’s immediately, the intensity of her gaze sending an electric shock up his spine, his heart speeding up. God, those eyes of hers were like the color of the fields around the farm in spring. She raised an eyebrow in question at him but he just smiled politely and held the door open for her and the Colonel to pass as he slid by and down the steps. She followed his gaze and he found himself completely turning and walking backwards a few steps, before forcing himself to break contact and walk away. He was going to go talk to Jed, see if he could learn more about her. Plus, his shift was almost up and twilight was approaching. Soon it would be time.

******

When his gaze broke from hers it was like having a bucket of ice water doused on an over heated system. She stood there watching him walk away, her heart pounding in her chest, a loud rush of air she hadn’t even realized she was holding breaking from her lungs. Her nerves still tingled from the heat she felt in his gaze, and she was startled to realize she hadn’t had a reaction like that to the opposite sex in a very long time. Hell, she wasn’t quite sure she ever had a reaction like that, at least not one she remembered. She shook her head, turning back to the Colonel, only to notice he hadn’t missed the staring contest either. She thought he looked amused, but wasn’t quite sure. “Something I need to know about?” Buffy rolled her eyes, “I’m a red-blooded female. I’m allowed to notice a good-looking man when I see one.” The Colonel hummed, his green eyes accusatorily sizing her up. “Seems like he noticed you too.” Buffy’s eyebrows shot up and she frowned. “What exactly are you implying, Hardy?” “Just making sure you didn’t send a spy in close to gather information.” He answered seriously, eyeing her warily, as if she would do something like that so unnecessarily. She rolled her eyes, laughing at the absurdity of that statement. “Colonel, if I were to do something like that it would only be if I felt I was in danger, and I can guarantee it would be another Slayer and not some well-built, redneck, with puppy eyes. No one but the W.C. and the General knew I was coming, why would I risk the little bit of leeway I knew I would gain by showing up unexpectedly, and ruin it by having a spy already in your midst’s. Please do give me some credit.” Hardy shrugged unapologetically, leaning against the wall, “I still don’t understand how your people figured out about the find when we’ve only known about it for a week.” “Oh, so that’s what this is.” She said, raising an eyebrow and looked around the almost empty trailer. He smirked, “That’s what this is.” She shrugged, it didn’t really matter to her if he knew or not. She wouldn’t be sharing the technology no matter how much he tried to intimidate her. Not that she would actually be able to explain it anyway. “A friend of mine created a program that relies heavily on magic to monitor, decode, translate, and record when certain phrases or words are used in any and all military or government communication around the globe.” The Colonel’s eyes sharpened and she watched as his jaw clenched, a vein popping out on his forehead. “And I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share that little piece of technology would you.” Buffy shook her head, “Absolutely not. I’m not helping you war with other countries.” “And you call yourself some sort of hero.” He said snidely, heavy condemnation in his voice. “Do you have any idea how much something like that could help us?” Buffy froze, her back stiffening at his implications. She turned to him, her lips pursed and eyes as sharp as daggers. “It’s my job Colonel, to protect humanity. All of it.” She said, voice trembling just above a whisper in pure rage. “It is not my job to get involved with petty wars that mean very little when every year there’s some demon who gets the idea in his head to destroy every single one of us.” She pointed to the door, “I think its time for you to go now. Sun’s setting anyway, I hear it can get forty degrees below zero some nights.” Hardy frowned and opened his mouth as if to say more, but decided against it. Instead, he said, “Good night Miss Summers, will speak more about this tomorrow.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm, “No we really won’t. Despite what you may think, I’m not trying to hoard technology so I can be some kinda all-knowing God and rain judgment down on everyone. It’s the whole reason its only designed to pick out key words and phrases. I don’t want to know everything, but magic in the wrong hands is the most dangerous thing on this planet. It’s more dangerous than any demon I’ve ever faced or any God.” She sighed, removing her hand. “Trust me when I say, science will get there, you don’t need magic to move it along.” His frown deepened, before he seemed to sigh in defeat. He nodded once, then left her trailer without a word. Buffy sighed, hoping that was the end of that. She really didn’t want to have to keep explaining herself. She walked over and sunk down on the cot, reaching for the lighter of her bags and pulling out her satellite phone. She called Wesley first, knowing he would be waiting up for her to check in. She gave him a brief description of what had happened so far, leaving out the mystery man for fear of making him worry when he already had so much on his plate. Wesley agreed that Willow should be the one performing the warding spell around the ship, and agreed to make the necessary travel arrangements. Her next phone call was to Willow herself, and she smiled at the cheery voice that picked up. “Is the Arctic as cold as they say?” Buffy chuckled, “Yeah Wills, its pretty cold.” Then added, “But don’t worry, you’ll be experiencing it soon enough.” She could hear the frown on the other end of the phone, before an irritated whine escaped her friend’s lips. “But I don’t wanna go to the Arctic, you know how much I hate the cold.” Buffy chuckled, “Yes, but apparently they think they found a spaceship and we need you and your magical-witchy-talents to make sure no hibernating Xenomorphs escape and wreak havoc amongst the populous.” There was a long still silence, before the expected giddy meltdown on the other side of the phone. She heard a squeal of delight, before several vowels that sounded suspiciously like they should have been words. Buffy chuckled, “Breathe Willow, oxygen is of the good.” There were several panting breaths before, “Gods, Buffy do you know what a find like this could mean for us? The technology alone could help…” “Hold your horses there, Wills.” Buffy interrupted. “I already promised the U.S. that they could have the ship.” “Wait, what?” Willow protested. “Buffy if it hadn’t been for Voll joining up with Amy and Warren, those two would have never gotten powerful enough to join up with…” “I know Willow,” Buffy said, cutting her off before that train of thought could even be realized. “I’m just saying, why should we trust them when they’ve put us through so much?” Willow said, the pain and resentment clear in her voice. Buffy, sighed. “I don’t know Wills; guess I’m just getting more forgiving in my old age.” She paused, hearing Willow sigh sadly and knowing exactly where Willow’s thoughts were taking her. They had all suffered the consequences of General Voll raising Amy and Warren up from annoying nuisances, to actual threat. When they inevitably betrayed him, because that’s what happens when you align yourself with crazy, Amy and Warren had managed to gain enough clout to join up with a recently desouled Angelus, and together they had amassed an army of witches and demons alike. By the time anyone caught wind of what was going on it was already too late. Giles had been the first casualty in the chaos. Buffy freezing up when it happened, unable to even react to what her eyes were processing. Spike had been the one to pull her out, and for months he had been the one to push her to keep going. He had been her rock in that time, an unwavering support system without any expectations of what could possibly be if they made it out alive. Wesley and Illyria had joined the fold shortly after Spike's miraculous return, followed by a severely wounded Charles Gunn and an empath demon named Lorne. Buffy had offered Wesley the Head Watcher position, being too far gone in her grief of losing the man who was more like a father to her than her real dad ever was. However, it was losing Spike three months later that had fully pushed her over the edge. It was the only time in her life that she went completely dark, and it was Angelus who paid and then some. She had never thought herself capable of torture before that moment. Figuring she wouldn't have the stomach for it, but she'd been so very wrong. She had given her Slayer full control, and by the time she was finished with him there had been very little to stake. She remembered hating not just him in that moment, but Angel too. Years of pent-up emotional trauma caused by him leeching out of her as she bled him dry. Hatred and rage boiling inside of her at the fairytale romance they'd so naively convinced each other they had. It was never a fairytale; it had been a nightmare from the start. Even soulless Spike on his worse day would have never tried to break her so thoroughly. Angelus, in essence had succeeded in what he started so many years before. Except, instead of the broken pile of tears he expected would be the outcome of his mental torment, he got the broken primal force of the Slayer in full. He must have realized his mistake somewhere between her cutting out his tongue to shut him up and flaying his skin off the muscle and sinew because when she got to his eyes, they were full of the most potent fear she'd ever seen on a creature such as him. She remembered her Slayer purring in delight at the heady look of horror that was etched on his face, so unlike the arrogant knowingness he'd been giving her for hours. She remembered the feel of his sticky, coagulated blood as it spurted onto her face when she slowly pushed the blade into the brown pupil. The same eyes she had once thought so beautiful. She remembered how it felt to twist the knife until there was nothing left. The only sound Angelus able to make was a gargling, choking, scream. Buffy shook her head, banishing the gruesome memories to the back of her mind. She had disappeared for two years after that, running every few days to make sure no one could find her, too ashamed to face anyone. Wesley had finally found her in that broken-down, abandoned hovel, too weak to keep running. He hadn't asked what happened, he'd simply taken her in his arms and held her. When she had eventually shattered completely, sobbing dry tears, because she was to dehydrated to produce any, Wesley had stroked her back, hushing her. He never once asked what happened, but she suspected he already knew. There was a haunted look in his eyes that told her he had danced that fine line once himself. “Buffy? Buffy are you there?” Willow asked, forcing Buffy out of her memories completely. “Yeah,” Buffy said, shaking her head and blinking several times. “Sorry, what?” “I said, is there anything else I should know?” Willow huffed, a worried edge to her voice. Buffy chewed on her lip for a minute, thinking of her handsome stranger. “Yeah,” She said again. “There’s definitely something else.” She was quiet for a long moment, before finally saying. “Look, I didn’t say anything to Wesley, because he’s dealing with a lot right now, but there’s this guy here and he's...well..." she paused, shivering slightly at the memory of his hand in hers. "He's like uber-powerful." "You mean like Glory and Illyria powerful?" Willow asked, the worry in her voice unmistakable now. "I mean, like take Glory and Illyria, put them in a pot, add a few other Old Ones, stir, and you got this guy." Now Willow sounded downright frightened. "You're kidding? And he's working for the military?" Buffy shook her head even though Willow couldn't see it. "No, he's actually working for the cargo company the military contracted." "Huh?" Willow said in confusion. "Yeah, and here's the thing, he doesn't feel like a demon, or even mystical. It’s almost like..." and that’s when it all began to click into place. Spaceship, uber-powerful guy working as a civilian near said recently discovered spaceship. Power that felt foreign to her, not other worldly, but out of this world. She froze, her eyes landing on a piece of paper tucked under her weapons bag. With a shaky hand she reached down and unfolded it, her eyes scanned the quickly scribbled words on the page. "Willow, I... I gotta go." Buffy said, hanging up before she could hear her friend’s protest. She reached for her weapons bag, unzipped it and pulled out her Scythe. The words of the poem repeating in her head. She thought about changing into her suit, but decided against it. She wasn't sure how much time she had, but the sun had set a while ago and she had a feeling if she didn't leave now, she'd never see her handsome stranger again. She donned her jacket and her beanie, throwing on a backpack already prepacked with survival supplies. She opened the door and ran full speed out into the night. The forgotten poem falling into the snow, the words bleeding out as the slush soaked the paper. 'I know not whence I came, I know not whither I go But the fact stands clear that I am here In this world of pleasure and woe. And out of the mist and murk, Another truth shines plain. It is in my power each day and hour To add to its joy or its pain.'

[Chapter Two]

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a-very-tail-wizard · 4 years

Text

I Want A Baby

Rating: T

Pairing: Gruvia/Gray x Juvia

Disclaimer: I don’t own Fairy Tail.

Word Count: 2k

Title: I Want a Baby

Genre: one shot, fluff, domestic fluff, pregnant!Juvia

Summary: Several months after moving in together, Juvia has potential news, but she’s not sure how Gray will take it.

A/N: Tada! My first Gruvia fic. It finally happened. (This was originally supposed to continue into a smut fic, but I decided to end it early. If you’d like the continuation though, reply or send me an ask, and I’ll try to make it happen.)

ffn || ao3

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Juvia

I pat my neck with the towel again, dramatizing imaginary droplets of water after I washed my face. It’s stupid, I know. If he was paying the tiniest bit of attention, he’d immediately find it odd. Not only have I been drying my face for an abnormally long time already, I don’t even need to dry my face because I can just absorb the water into my body. I’m stuck. If I go to bed now, he might talk to me, and then I’ll have to lie to him, but if I keep stalling in here, he’ll eventually get suspicious. I don’t know what to do!

“Juvia?” His voice travels in from the bedroom.

Oh no. It sounds like he’s coming this way! What do I do?

I panic, dropping the towel and quickly splashing fresh water onto my cheeks from the still running faucet.

“Are you…washing your face?” He steps into the doorway, and I focus all of my energy on lathering my forehead instead of the reflection of his perfect abs in the mirror.

“Yes, my love!” I say through my fingers. “Just trying to keep my skin perfect for you.”

“But I thought you just washed…” He frowns and shakes his head. “Nevermind. I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, darling.”

“Turn the light off when you come in.”

He leaves, and I rush to wash the soap off, gasping when the water is cold.

“This is ridiculous,” I hiss to myself. “I don’t need tap water for this.”

Creating water with my hands, I rinse my face and pat it dry a second time with a fresh towel. After hanging both used towels up to dry, I turn off the bathroom light and tiptoe toward the bed, hoping Gray is already sleeping.

As I sit down on my side of the mattress, I feel a little bit guilty. Normally, I love being in bed with Gray before we fall asleep. We talk. We cuddle. And sometimes we…

No. Don’t think about that.

My brain gets all muddled when I think about the deliciously naughty things Gray and I do, and right now, I’m confused enough already.

Turning onto my side, I slide my legs under the sheets and turn to face the wall.

“Juvia.”

My heart skips a beat in the darkness of the room, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

What does he want? Maybe he’s talking in his sleep.

“Did you talk to Cana today?”

Oh no! He talked to Cana? She probably told him something! But she didn’t know what she knew when I asked her, so if she told him something it will only upset him!

“Juvia?”

Oh right. He asked me a question. Maybe if I don’t say anything, he’ll stop talking.

“I know you’re awake.”

He rolls toward me, and I stop breathing as the heat of his bare chest radiates into my back.

“Is something wrong?” he asks softly, and I suddenly feel like crying.

“N-no,” I choke out. “No, my love. Nothing is wrong. I’m just…tired.”

“Cana said something weird when I saw her today,” he goes on in that gentle voice that turns me into a puddle. “She said I needed to be careful with you.”

“What?” I stammer. “Why-why would she say that?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

His fingers run down my bare arm, and my body shudders. I want him to touch me, but I also don’t. I dread what I need to tell him, but I also feel terrible about keeping it from him.

“Juvia, baby…”

“She told you there’s a baby?” I whip around so fast I almost smack into his forehead with mine.

“Whoa! What the hell?” he grimaces angrily. “I was only trying to—wait.”

I see his face go white. I’m not sure how since the room is black with night, but I do.

“Did you say…b-baby?”

Oh no! What have I done? I can’t take it back now! Unless…

“N-no,” I start shakily. “I said, um–”

My eyes dart around the room as I try to think of something.

This is bad. He’s going to know. But I don’t even know! What if he doesn’t want a baby now! Will he be angry? I don’t want to make Gray angry with me! I don’t think I can handle that on top of this!

“Juvia?”

I sit up and pull my knees into my chest, burying my face in my hands as tears build up in my eyes.

“Are you pregnant?” His voice is so hard and cold, like his demon slaying magic. I shiver and lick my lips.

“I don’t know,” I confess quietly.

“You don’t know?” he echoes. “Did you suspect? Were you going to tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you know? I mean, one minute I’m about to go to sleep and the next there’s a freakin’ baby? What the hell?”

“I don’t know!” I shriek, whirling to face him.

“Hey, whoa.” His hand lands on my shoulder, but I shrug it off as I turn to face him.

“I just…” I take a deep breath and say everything in my head at once. “I’ve been feeling strange, and I’ve felt sick a few times, but my cycle is never on time, and I don’t know if that has to do with my body of water or something else, but I started thinking it might be a possibility.”

“I always wear a condom,” he pipes up. “Even that time in the tub, I–”

“I know,” I whisper as tears begin to slip onto my cheeks. “But…my entire body is water.”

“Condoms are waterproof.”

“Well, my water is magical!” I shout. “And anyway, condoms aren’t always effective. Or one could’ve broken, and I didn’t realize. And it doesn’t even matter because if I’m pregnant already…”

I start sobbing, and bury my face in my knees, using the blanket to dry my tears.

“Juvia…”

“Please, don’t be angry with me, Gray,” I choke. “I know this isn’t what you want, but I don’t know what else to do!”

“Juvia, calm down.”

“I tried to find out! I went to Porlyusica, but she wasn’t sure if she could diagnose me because, well, since my body is unique, she doesn’t know if the symptoms are the same or if everything will present itself the same way. And then I asked Cana if her cards said anything, but she didn’t have anything concrete. All she said was something big would be changing in our home, and now I’m terrified you’re going to leave–Ah!”

He grabs me without warning, his hands sliding around me and hauling me into his lap.

“Gray, darling, what are you–”

“If I were going to leave, I would never have moved in with you in the first place,” his deep voice rumbles against my ear, his nose buried in my hair.

“B-but if there’s a baby–”

“I thought you wanted babies,” he cuts me off. “In fact, I’m one hundred percent certain you mentioned them on more than one occasion.”

“Well, I do,” I murmur, “but we haven’t talked about when we wanted to start, um, trying, and since you haven’t said anything–”

“I’ll say it now then.”

What?

I blink as he turns my face toward him, cupping my cheeks in his hands.

“I want a baby, Juvia.”

Heat floods my body, and I reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing my eyes shut.

He can’t mean it. He must just be saying it to make me feel better.

“Don’t lie,” I hiss. “It’ll only make it worse.”

“You think I’m lying to you?” he growls. “Since when have I ever done crap like that?”

He has a point. Even when it hurt, my darling Gray has never lied to me. Though, sometimes I did wish he’d spared my feelings.

“I want a baby,” he says again.

“But…but you’re always saying how you don’t envy Gajeel whenever he’s with the twins. I thought–”

“Have you seen the twins? They’re nothing but trouble. It’s a miracle Gajeel has time to breathe, let alone take any jobs.”

“That’s true,” I whisper. “But still, you always said you wanted to wait and not to rush it. I don’t want you to–”

“If you’re already pregnant, it doesn’t really matter what I said. And to be honest, I have been…thinking about it.”

“You have?” I jerk back and stare at him.

“Your happiness is important to me, and I know you want a family,” he confesses. “Plus, I’ve seen Alzack and Bisca with Asuka; who wouldn’t want to have that? So you don’t need worry about me being angry with you. I’m not.”

“Gray, dear, we can’t have a baby just to make me happy, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he growls. “Look. I know I complain about babies and kids, especially the twins, but they’re not mine. I’ve known for a long time that when I have a kid, I’m going to love him the way my parents loved me and the way Ur loved Ultear. I would give my life for him, and I’ve never even seen him.”

“Gray, darling…”

“And any baby I have with you, I’ll love that much more,” he goes on. “Because I love you, Juvia, and you’ve loved me for longer than I probably want to know.”

“The day we met,” I whisper.

“Right.” He shakes his head at the same time he pulls me into his chest. “I know you’ll teach our son how to love relentlessly with strength to match. I want that.”

“Unless we have a girl,” I chime in.

“Everything I just said goes the same for a girl. The important thing is I want a baby, and I want one with you, Juvia.”

Oh my.

I shut my eyes and exhale slowly, my cheek against his guild mark, his heart beating in my ear.

I don’t know what to say. Gray isn’t usually so loquacious. And never so romantic.

Oh wait. There is that.

“Well, there might not be one,” I remind him quietly.

“Hmm, I guess you have a point.” He raises an eyebrow, and I feel my body begin quaking. “But, I know of a way to increase our chances.”

Oh no. I know that look. He’s suggesting sex!

“You mean…right now?”

“Oh yeah.” He smirks as he pulls me against his chest and rolls us in the bed so that I’m on my back with him hovering over me.

“Gray, my love, are you sure? It’s late, and–”

“I know you’re not trying to talk me out of sex,” he interrupts. “Because that would be crazy coming from the woman who would jump me in the guild hall if I didn’t stop her.”

“No.” I blush. He really does know me well. “I just…you said so many nice things, and I haven’t had time to think…”

“You don’t need to think,” he murmurs as he slides the straps of my nightgown off my shoulders. “If you’re pregnant, I want to celebrate.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then I want to change that.”

My mind goes blank as his mouth lowers to my neck. His hand slides up my thigh, and my heart starts racing.

“I love you, Juvia,” he whispers as I squirm under him.

“Yes, my love!” I pant. “I love you too.”

He continues touching me and kissing me, and I quickly forget to be worried. Forget to be anything. All I know is my darling Gray and everything he’s making me feel, which of course is all so very good.

#gruvia fic #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #pregnant juvia #gruvia #fairy tail #juvia loxar #parental!gruvia #fairy tail fic #my fic #dad!gray #my gruvia #i want a baby #otp: unison raid

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Note

“I can’t imagine this place being used for anything good, not with all that blood all over the walls.”

“To err is human, to dream divine."

W anyone ya want to really^^

You’re standing in the pouring rain. It’s raining so hard you can barely keep your eyes open. The heavy, relentless drops are beating on you, dozens of times per second, and despite your attempt at preparation - a bright yellow poncho that you snagged at the last dingy rest stop on the way to this godforsaken piece of no-mans-land - you’re soaked through anywhere that peeked out. Your hands, are wet and icy cold. So is your face and you’re starting to get soaked through your collar.

The dark sky turned white with a few flashes of lightning. Shadows of the surrounding dense forests reached into the heavens behind the two story antebellum mansion. It loomed over the flat land with a menacing presence. Its formal gleaming whitewashed façade was darkened by climbing ivy. Its painted columns were running with cracks. The wood was split underneath like shattered old bones.

You shiver with more than just cold.

Your professors looked at you in confused sympathy when you entered Cassell College. You barely passed the 3E exam as a base C-Rank. Professor Schneider passed your name on the list of potential commissioners and you were happy to spend your days examining your love of ancient Aztec art in the hopes of specializing in MesoAmerican Archeaology.

Of course, you passed all the classics on dragon genetics and weapons engineering but with the most useless Soul Skill on all of Campus, you figured you’d hardly matter when it came to dragon slaying.

Norma told you in a forced optimistic voice that only two other hybrids had been documented with the Soul-Skill Devour. It meant that the user could make themselves immune to all toxins and could digest anything they swallowed. It may sound neat on the surface, however, it didn’t change the fact that a person might not want to eat odd things or that it would taste and feel terrible going down.

Because it is such a weak Soul Skill and it was documented, your Soul Skill ended up on public record. You spent the rest of your college days being known as the student who could ‘eat shit and NOT die’ and fielding dares to swallow everything from the most toxic substances to the most disgusting, and fielding invitations to the Gear Department for what was presumably lunch as well as testing.

So when you got the summons to report to the Executive Department, you thought it was a joke and didn’t bother replying until you got a second email explaining that if you didn’t show up you would be expelled.

“All Cassell College Alumni must have an internship and participate in missions for graduation.” Norma patiently explained to you as you received the mission. “Even though your major is in archeology, you are expected to complete a mission for the college.”

Sure. Whatever. You got onto the big black helicopter and left the college, expecting a normal mission where you hopefully ‘stood watch’ or something easy, just to check a box on your resume at graduation. What you didn’t expect was to be met by Caesar Gattuso, the President of the Student Union, once you got off the aircraft.

Even as he reclined in the front seat of a camouflage colored military jeep, he looked every bit the veteran. He was staring at the tablet with his intense blue gaze. A hint of stubble lit his chin in a faint blond halo. The door of the Jeep was open and you could see that he was dressed in Camo pants under the white tank-tee that was already getting sticky with sweat in the humid air of the southern United States.

He didn’t bother looking up at you or explaining anything. He closed the application with a deft swipe of his long fingers and looked at you. No doubt he stamped you with the same label of “Useless baggage” as everyone else did. Silently, those eyes scanned down and then back up again. And then his eyebrows rose -- you imagined a little ‘ding’ sound as his calculations spit out a result.

Much to your surprise, he grinned.

Caesar was used to much higher level people groveling at his feet for his favor, trying their best to get a word in, trying their best to get a little bit of approval from him. Here he was completely alone, save a single person -- you -- who simply had no hope of rising to anything but the podium to reach out, take your diploma and disappear into obscurity.

So sure. Laugh it up, golden boy. You return his smile with none of the brightness and shrug.

You have one duffle bag of supplies but it was basic. A pistol of Frigg and live ammunition, a change of clothes, a first aid kit, a two way radio and flares. You tossed it in the back of the Jeep and got into the passenger seat.

“We have a report of what may be a backwoods cult that has forbidden dragon artifacts. The Cultists I’ll have no issue with. So don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t planning to. You’re the expert, not me. I just need this to graduate.”

He shifted the jeep into gear. The tires crunched against gravel before pulling out on to smooth surface. “You remind me of someone else. Don’t you aspire to more?”

“It’s not really possible.”

Caesar huffed, his eyes narrowing. “That’s only because of how you view things.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes. That was so easy for him to say. He was A-ranked, rich, famous. You were none of those things. Under your yearbook photo they should put the caption ‘just happy to be here’.

The road disappeared under a glowing emerald canopy of white oak, sumac and locust trees. The greenery crowded onto the road, and the car was kept corraled by a single rusty guardrail as the surrounding plants scraped at it. But Caesar pumped the accelerator and hugged the curves, weaving this way and that as the tension rose up your entire body. You found yourself gripping the seat and praying that no one would come swinging round the blind curves in the opposite direction and hit you head on.

Still, you didn’t feel you could ask him to slow down.

As the sunse, and you climbed the tall mountain toward your destination, the temperature noticeably cooled and you felt a chill. At the rest stop, you bought the poncho and felt the first drop of rain on your way back in to the jeep.

“So it’s true you don’t get nauseous?” Caesar asked you. He didn’t look at you, but he was looking at a map. A red dot marked a spot, likely where they were supposed to go.

“It’s not that I don’t get nauseous, it’s that I can’t get poisoned and I can digest anything so long as I can get it down.”

“Hmmm...” Caesar rubbed his chin.

“Are you trying to think of something useful for me to do?”

Before you could think of anything else to say, you stared down the barrel of the Desert Eagle. You leap to get away, adrenaline rushing and tell you to escape, but before you could reach for the door handle, the barrel flashed and the car filled with gun residue. You grunt as the Frigg bullet shattered and sent its medication rushing through your blood stream. Your eyes burn golden and you double over, fighting the sudden dizziness and fatigue. “You... you asshole...” “That’s what I thought. You’re not affected by Frigg bullets.”

Frigg bullets contained an extremely powerful sedative and you could barely see. Not affected is a misnomer! You’re still affected you just get over it! You didn’t remember Caesar pulling out of the gas station until you were well on your way to the top of the mountains and it had started to rain.

“You still with me?”

“Yeah...” You rasp, cursing him a million times in your heart. You reached for a bottle of water that you had stashed.

“Not being effected by Frigga Bullets is a big deal. You shouldn’t sell yourself short.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He was smug, happy with his little experiment, even though you can throw that up on the pile of countless other experiments your fellow students had performed on you. “God,... I just wanna graduate.” You whisper.

Now, standing at the entrance of a massive mansion you realize you have no idea how to fight. Just because you could withstand frigg bullets didn’t mean you could withstand regular ones.

Caesar’s eyes burned golden and ghostly figures, like grim reapers, flew from his body. He stood, unbothered by the rain, listening. You hold your breath, not wanting to interfere.

“Looks like the place is empty. Let’s go.”

The steps were rotting and soft, bowing dangerously under your feet. On the porch, a rusty metal swing creaked in a gusty wind. Caesar lifted one leg and kicked the door right in. It swung back on the hinges and Caesar entered, eyes behind his gun despite the lack of life signs.

The first thing you smell is rust or copper. You can taste it on your tongue, like licking a battery. As you step inside onto the linoleum floor, your shoes lightly adhere to it. Each step made a sound like someone peeling wallpaper. A double staircase arched gracefully in front of you and framed a painting of a man in a suit, a woman in a traditional southern dress and a small dog, like a Doberman, sitting between them.

Looking left, the walls were streaked black and looking down, you realize the black continued on the floor where you were stepping. The lightning flashed and revealed the dark brown all over the floor.

“I can’t imagine this place being used for anything good, not with all that blood all over the walls.” Caesar said.

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berjhawn · 4 years

Text

Angel On Fire - Chapter 13 - Jail

Warnings: None really that bad, a little nsfw toward the end but other than that pretty safe

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader ; Thorin Oakenshield X Reader ; Bucky X Reader X Thorin ; Marvel X Reader X Hobbit

(A/N) I live!!!!!!! and i’m here to bring you two new updates!! So enjoy!!

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Thorin didn’t know what to do now that he was staring down the strung arrow of a blonde elf. He wanted to fight but knew he and his kin were no match for the elves in their foggy state. It was only when he saw (Name)’s (H/C) hair out of the corner of his eye did he lose composure. His eyes snap to her to see that a nearby elf was cradling her in his arms as her head lay gently against his chest.

“What have you done to her?” Thorin asks anger filling his chest and words.

“What is it to you?” The blonde elf asks narrowing his eyes at Thorin.

“She’s a friend. Now, what have you done to her?” Thorin inquires his brow narrowed in anger.

“We found her as she collapsed to the ground in fear.”

“Give her to us, we’ll carry her.” Thorin orders causing the elf to narrow his eyes at him and scoff.

“What help could you give her that we cannot?” The elf scolds annoying Thorin greatly. “She’ll remain in our care until the king decides otherwise.” He adds before turning from Thorin and to the other dwarves as his men start to search them all. As he is given Thorin’s sword he lifts it up and admiring its craftsmanship says, “Echannen i vegil hen vin Gondolin. Magannen nan Gelydh.” (This is an ancient Elvish blade. Forged by my kin.) He pauses his eyes meeting Thorin’s as he adds, “Where did you get this?”

“It was given to me.” Thorin answers honestly but the elf scowls, and points the sword at Thorin.

“Not just a thief, but a liar as well.” He accuses before ordering his kin to take them.

After then blonde sheathes the sword he walks over to where (Name) is being held by another elf and after a brief word he lifts her into his arms to carry himself. Thorin stares at him with anger and jealousy filling his body as the elves begin to lead the dwarves away. As they begin to walk, Bofur turns and whispers to Thorin, “Thorin, where’s Bilbo?” Thorin looks around, but sees no sign of Bilbo.

The dwarves are led through the woods and over a bridge and into the Woodland Realm. After they pass through, the blonde elf pauses before he addresses the guards of the gate. “Holo in ennyn.” (Close the gate.)

The blonde elf turns, sensing something, and looks down the bridge. Seeing nothing after a few seconds, he turns and walks through the gates as they close. The dwarves are led through the raised wooden walkways of the Woodland Realm. The entire place is built out of tree roots in a subterranean cavern. The rest of his kin are taken deeper into the city, to the dungeons he reckons. He unfortunately loses sight of (Name) when he is brought to a familiar face.

Thranduil, the king of Mirkwood, and the elf that turned his back on the suffering of Thorin’s people sits on his throne his eyes focused on Thorin.

“Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive: attempted burglary, or something of that ilk.” Thranduil says as he looks closely at Thorin. “You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule: The King’s Jewel, the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help.”

“I am listening.” Thorin replies cocking an eyebrow at the elf.

“I will let you go, if you but return what is mine.”

Thorin turns and slowly starts walking away.

“A favor for a favor.” Thorin adds scoffing.

“You have my word. One king to another.” Thranduil concludes.

Thorin stops walking. Still facing away from Thranduil, he speaks. His voice gets louder and louder as he speaks. “I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us!” Thorin spins around and point at Thranduil. He is now shouting. “You lack all honor! I’ve seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help, but you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us! Imrid amrad ursul!” (Die a death of flames!)

Thranduil leaps down from his throne and puts his face right in front of Thorin’s.

“Do not talk to me of dragon fire. I know its wrath and ruin. I have faced the great serpents of the north.” As Thranduil speaks, his face contorts, revealing his face covered with what appears to be burns and scars from his past encounters with dragons. His left eye is milky and unseeing. He draws away, and his face returns to normal. “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon, but he would not listen.” Thranduil turns and walks up the steps to his throne. “You are just like him.”

Thranduil motions, and guards grab Thorin and haul him toward the dungeons.

“Stay here if you will, and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I am patient. I can wait.”

“Wait!” Thorin calls making the guards pause. “What of my companion?”

“Your dwarves will remain in the dungeon along with you.”

“The human woman that was with us. Return her to us.” Thorin orders making Thranduil narrow his eyes at him.

“You are in no position to be giving me orders dwarf.” Thranduil spits.

“What will you do with her?” Thorin inquires trying to keep his composure.

“She will be seen by our healers and then who knows?” Thranduil waves his hand signaling the end of their conversation.

Thorin is dragged down the vast hallways until they reach the dungeon. Then he is thrown into a cell beside the other dwarves, and his jailer walks away with a ring of jangling keys.

“Did he offer you a deal?” Balin inquires from his cell.

“He did. I told him he could go ‘Ish kakhfê ai’d dur rugnu!’ (I spit upon your grave!) - him and all his kin!”

Hearing this, Balin closes his eyes and sighs wearily in frustration. “Well...that’s it, then. A deal was our only hope.”

“Not our only hope.” Thorin adds under his breath thinking about Bilbo.

“What did they say about (Name)?” Bofur asks making Thorin let out a defeated sigh.

“The good news is they are taking her to their healers. Bad news is that is all they would tell me.”

“Don’t worry Lads, the elves may be bastards, but they are some of the best healers. I’m sure she will be fine.” Balin adds making Thorin roll his eyes.

(Name) should be there with him. He pauses a moment as he realizes what he just thought. Thorin reaches up and scratching the back of his neck thinks back to when he had initially heard her screams of panic. He had tried to find her but it was too late as they were all surrounded by spiders. He hoped and prayed that she was okay.

Thorin wouldn’t admit it out loud but he had grown rather fond of her. Moving to the back of his cell he sits down and thinks back on when he met her. She was feisty, from the very moment he they had met she had challenged him. He smiles at the memory. If he survived this, he would tell her how he felt.

His eyes widen at the thought. What exactly did he feel for her? Even if it was more than companionship, he could never tell her. She wanted to return to her home. She didn’t belong here. Thorin’s heart clenches at the idea of never seeing her again; but what was he to do? She had made it quite clear she wanted to return to her world.

Would she change her mind if he told her he had feelings for her? Closing his eyes, he leans his head back against the cool wooden wall and lets out a heavy sigh. ‘Thorin…’ he hears her sweet voice calling his name causing his brow to furrow as he opens his eyes to see that a vision of her has appeared before him.

“(Name)?” He says his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiles as she kneels down in front of him, her hands reaching up to rest on his thighs. Thorin gulps down a breath of air as he, unable to move, watches her. ‘Don’t you have something to say to me?’ she asks as her hands start to drift awfully close to his aching member.

“You’re not real.” He says more to clear his head than to actually reply to her.

‘That’s not what you want to say, is it?’ She adds lust thick on her voice.

“You’re not her. I’ll tell her when I’m ready.” Thorin adds folding his arms over his chest.

‘What if you’re never ready?’ She inquires her fingers grazing over the ties on his trousers. ‘What if she doesn’t want to hear it?’

“Stop.” He orders narrowing his eyes at her as he gulps down a breath of air.

‘Stop what?’ She asks her eyes narrowing at him as she moves from her spot between his legs to straddle his waist. She reaches up gently cupping his face continues, ‘You said it yourself, I’m not real. I’m just a figment of your imagination. What I do, is what you want her to do.’

“That’s not the point.” Thorin growls reaching up to grab the vision’s hands and pull them away from his face but his hands go straight through her. “Get off.”

‘You should tell her sooner rather than later, or by the time you gather your nerve, it will be too late.’ And with that she vanishes leaving Thorin feeling irritated and little embarrassed.

Will continue

Tags:

@elysasthings @gaenahelleborus

#berjhawn #berjhawn writes #bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #marvel x reader x hobbit #hobbit x reader x marvel #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #the hobbit #hobbit fanfiction #thorin x reader #thorin x readerx bucky #bucky x reader x thorin #hobbit au

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 14

Warnings: possible body dysmorphia, mentions of past trauma and abuse

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip

Author’s Note: I have a serious case of extremely low self esteem (thanks anon hate!) and I can’t promise when the next chapter will be out. I’m hoping within the next few days. Fingers crossed! So I’d post the one I was holding ‘hostage’.

“I’m not too sure about this, Des,” Esme grumbles from behind a change room door in Bloomingdales.

It’s the last stop of the afternoon before a well deserved lunch; highly praised Thai food at a restaurant near Rockefeller that Desi had to book weeks in advance. It’s been years since she’d been THAT engrossed in a shopping trip; her feet aching and her cheeks hurting from laughing so much and dozens of bags in her possession. For twelve years she’s been caught up in her role as a mother; putting her own needs and wants on the back burner in favour of always making sure the kids never went without. Even with a ridiculous amount of money in the bank, she’d never concentrated on herself; perfectly content with her quiet and unassuming life in Australia, living rather simply and not needing much more than shorts, t-shirts, a small selection of bathing suits and a handful of jeans. It feels strange to be out in something other than her normal and preferred attire; used to choosing comfort over actual style and doing little more than throwing her hair up into a ponytail or messy bun. It had been nice to experience all of that again and had found herself most missing those younger days. When she’d pass the time with hours of window shopping and mindless browsing; daydreaming about all of the designer clothes and shoes and handbags she’d one day purchase if she ever won the lottery. But back then, it had been just that: daydreaming. And she can’t help but feel slightly guilty for splurging and buying things just for the sake of having them; outfits she may likely never wear and will hang in the closet with their original price tags still attached.

It’s hard to break free of that line of thinking; easily remembering the hard times when there’d been hardly any food in the cupboards and there’d been real worry about whether the utilities would be shut off or not. When Millie was still growing inside of her and she’d been trying to adjust to her new life in a new country; living with a man she barely knew but she already was already falling madly and crazily in love with. Materialistic things have never truly mattered; never heartbroken when she couldn’t afford brand new clothes or when their little apartment was filled with mismatched second hand furniture. Despite the financial concerns, they’d been truly happy. Engrossed in a ‘honeymoon stage’ of unbridled passion and lust; finding themselves thoroughly exploring and enjoying one another’s bodies while getting to know each other. It hadn’t been the most conventional of lifestyles; two broken people finding solace and healing in one another in Dhaka, an unplanned pregnancy, and quick and hasty cohabitation. And there’d been hard times; little quirks and hangs up the other had that annoyed them, heated arguments over stupid things, lingering trauma and plenty of nightmares thanks to their harrowing experience in Bangladesh. But somehow they’d made it work; a temperamental and moody Australian and a feisty and over emotional American. Falling in love despite their often enormous differences and making something so beautiful and lasting out of almost nothing.

“I don't know if this dress is my thing,” she frets, and smooths her hands down the side of the ridiculously expensive dress. It’s far more than she’d ever imagined paying for a single piece of clothing; immediately checking the price tag and having a small coronary when Desi had shoved the garment in her direction. Money is of no concern; in a thousand lifetimes the personal bank account will never run dry, nor will there never be a steady flow of impressive income coming in. But it just isn’t who she is; a woman with her wardrobe filled with designer apparel, far more comfortable in sweats from Target and one of her husband’s ratty t-shirts. “I’m just not too sure about it.”

“What is there NOT to be sure about?” Her friend’s voice filters in from the waiting area. “It’s Herve Leger. One of his best pieces yet. And it’s fabulous and it will look even more fabulous on you.”

“It’s too short,” she laments, and tries in vain to pull the hem down closer to her knees. “I don’t have the legs for this.”

“You don’t need legs for days to slay in that dress. And Big E, I’ve seen you in shorts. I know you’ve got killer stems. You can definitely pull this off. You’re worrying over nothing.”

“But it’s too tight. Way too tight.”

Desi sighs in exasperation. “It’s supposed to be tight. It’s a bandage dress.”

“It shows my rolls.”

“Excuse you? WHAT roles? Like you have rolls. Bitch, please.”

“I’ve had seven kids. Believe me, I have rolls. I’m twenty pounds heavier than when I first met Tyler. Twenty-two, actually.”

“And does he give a shit? No. I bet he likes the curves. I don’t see him complaining. Or looking at other women. He only has eyes for you.”

“Most biased man on earth,” she mutters, and studies her form from all sides. Easily remembering what her body had looked like almost thirteen years ago; thin and toned and extremely fit. A far cry from the ‘softness’ she possesses now; dips and valleys and curves where none had ever existed before.

“Isn’t his opinion the only one that really matters? Doesn’t he find you a straight up hottie?”

“That is not the point. He could be just trying to spare my feelings, you know.”

Desi gives a derisive snort. “Isn’t he still tripping over himself trying to get into her pants every available chance he gets? Quit your bitching. You’ve got a beautiful man that worships at the temple of YOU. Now get out here and let me see you.”

“Rolls, Desi. I have rolls.”

“Bullshit. And even if you did, that dress is like a corset. All the different bands built in? They hold everything. And I doubt you have anything to hold in the first place. Don’t make me break down the door and drag you out here. I am not above creating a scene. You should know this by now.”

“Don’t you dare go full queen diva on me.”

“Oh, I will. I will kick that door in and drag your tiny ass on out here for the world to see. Desmond Brownell does not play games. He’s on a mission. And his mission is to see you in that Herve Leger. Don’t make me pull a mommy move. Don’t make me count to three.”

“I tend to go with five, but…”

“Five then. Don’t make me go that direction. Because it will not end well for you. Or me. There’ll be tears. And not on my part. And most likely security guards tossing us both out on our asses. So we do this either the easy way or the hard way. And believe me, you don’t want the hard way.”

Sighing heavily, she smooths down the back and sides of the dress and once more tries to pull the bottom closer to her knees. To no avail. It is so far out of her comfort zone; a woman that insists on always covering her bathing suit with a t-shirt and refuses to remove it. “I am going to sneak into your house at night and kill you in your sleep,” she declares, as she undoes the hook latch on the door and swings it open. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Keep your eyes closed. Until I tell you to open them.”

“I can’t believe YOU don’t realize that you’re a bonafide MILF. Even if it’s not for you, how bad could it be?”

“Ever seen a sausage when you try and stuff too much into the casing?”

“Have you ever talked to a shrink? You do not look the way you think you look. What DO you see when you look in the damn mirror?”

“I see gray hair, wrinkles, and stretch marks. I see frumpy and plain and boring and just…” sighing, she steps into the middle of the waiting area and frowns at her reflection being cast in several different mirrors. “...old. I see old.”

“I think you’ve done lost your damn mind. Shred brains cell with every baby you had. Because you sure as hell don’t look old. Not even close. Can I look yet?”

“Do you want to be traumatized?”

“Do you WANT me to beat your ass? Tell on you? I’ll tell your hubby. Don’t underestimate me. Then both of us will get on your ass and then what?”

“He’s hardly a good judge. He’d tell me I look good in a garbage bag. He is proof that love IS blind.”

“He is proof that there’s good men out there. Good loyal, faithful men. That love every inch of their woman. Inside and out. You know how lucky you are? To have someone like that? Do you see anyone strong enough to drag him off? I’m sure he’s had plenty of opportunities.”

“If the thirsty housewives back home and the new neighbour had their way, he’d be getting all kinds of ass. All kinds of variety.”

“What new neighbour?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over lunch. But yeah, he’s got a harem of women that would love for him to be tapping it.”

“But he loves tapping YOUR ass. And only your ass. Does he have a brother? Have I ever asked that? A gay brother by chance? Or a gay friend? Bi friend? Help me out here.”

“No brothers. No siblings at all. No gay friends. Not that I know of. But you know who WOULD have a gay friend? My sister in law.”

“I thought he didn’t have siblings?”

“Not Tyler. My sister’s wife. Shaena. She’d for sure have gay friends. And hot ones. You’ve met her.”

“Both her and your sister are fine as hell. I wouldn’t mind getting in the middle of THAT. Hook a brother up. Make it happen. I’ll be at your little Aussie Christmas. Score me a date for then. In the meantime, can I open my eyes now? Don’t leave a brother hanging.”

“As long as you promise you won’t laugh.”

“I am calling you a psychiatrist. You need help.”

“Fine,” she turns her back towards her friends, hands perched upon her hips. “ Look. But no smart ass comments and no laughing. My confidence can’t take it.”

“Your confidence needs a serious makeover. Now let me see.”

She watches through the mirror as his eyes flutter opening; slowly widening as far as they possibly can, followed by a dramatic collapse back into his seat and a hand placed over his heart.

“Fuck…” she grimaces. “...that bad?”

“That bad? That GOOD. Desmond Brownell approves. You look…” he gives two chef’s kisses. “...delicious. I’d bang you. And I have high standards.”

“I’ve seen some of your dates. Your standards are questionable at best.”

“You wound me, Big E. Mortally wound me. That…” he nods in her direction. “...was made for you. Your body is tighter and hotter than you obviously realize. Curves like a back road. And there ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“You don’t think it’s too much? Or should I say, too little? I am forty-one.”

“Who gives a shit? You look amazing.”

“I’ve had seven kids.”

“Especially amazing for someone that’s popped out that many crotch goblins. Sold. The dress is sold. This isn’t up for debate.”

“I can’t buy something like this. It’s just...not me.”

“It damn well is YOU. I’ll buy it for you. A little extra Christmas gift.”

“A thousand dollar dress is hardly a little Christmas gift. And it’s a little pricey, don’t you think? For fabric?”

“Honey, you really need to get out of Target and up your shopping game. I know how much money you all have, I know you can afford it. I know you could probably afford this whole store. And then some.”

“It isn’t about money. It’s about me. And being out of my comfort zone. I don’t dress like this. I live on the beach. In Australia. We wear shorts and tanks and never wear shoes. Where the hell would I wear this?”

“Date night.”

“Like we have places I could wear this to. I mean, I guess we could go to Cairns. I’ve seen women in some pretty expensive clothes there. I could always talk him into a weekend away. It wouldn’t be hard. And we are going to Santorini in April.”

“That’d be perfect for Santorini. Hell, just wear it in the house. In the bedroom. Just to spice things up a bit. I’m sure he doesn’t see you dressed up very often.”

“Try like never,” Esme laughs. “Okay, maybe that’s a lie. I DO wear makeup when we go out. And cute little sundresses.”

“What about when you got married?”

“I wore something off the clearance rack at a bridal store in Sydney. Cost a hundred bucks. It was nothing fancy.”

“But you wore a little tiara and veil and all that, right?”

“It wasn’t that kind of wedding. I was five months pregnant with Millie. It was a little wedding chapel. We had six guests. It wasn’t fancy.”

“E, you’ve been robbed. You need that bride moment. What about the first time?”

“Las Vegas. Even more casual. Zero out of five stars. Would not recommend.”

“Oh no, honey. No. That’s wrong. So wrong. You deserve so much better. You deserve a big day. You deserve to be a bride. A REAL bride. Poofy white dress, little bling in your hair, fancy little shoes…”

“Seven kids and I’m going to wear white? I think not.”

“I’m having a serious talk with that man of yours. Vow renewals are a thing you know.”

“He’s brought it up. A couple of times. Which is weird, because I never thought he’d ever think of something like that. This is Tyler we’re talking about. This is a man that can kill people with his bare hands. Who has his own brand of romance. Which I love, by the way. But it’s very odd he’d bring up something like that. Getting married again.”

“Maybe he wants to see you all done up. Looking like a bride.”

“Trust me, Des. Tyler doesn’t care about that stuff. That isn’t him.”

“Maybe he’s come to care about that stuff. Maybe he’s getting a softer side to him. Or, his soft side is getting even more soft.”

“Don’t ever tell him that. He’d kill YOU with his bare hands. Do you really think I should get this dress?”

“I think you’d be stupid not to. And you, are NOT a stupid woman. Treat yourself. You deserve it.”

“You know what? I do. I DO deserve it. And I think he’ll really like it. Maybe I’ll even give him a little sneak peek later. You know, to judge his reaction to it.”

“Oh I think I know what his reaction is going to be. Don’t wear any underwear. Just let him yank the dress up and have his way with you.”

“Maybe you know him better than I realize,” Esme laughs. “Fine. I’ll buy it. But if he hates it, I am totally throwing you under the bus.”

“Alright...alright…” Desi holds his hands up in surrender. “...I’ll take one for the team. Now get your little ass in there and get changed. This big man needs to eat.”

*****

“So this neighbour you mentioned,” Desi says, as he nods his appreciation at the hostess who seats them at their table, then gallantly pulls Esme’s chair out and waits for her to sit. “What’s that about?”

She rolls her eyes. “Natalie. She just moved in a few doors down. Her and her little girl.”

“Are you talking about the blond that has the goddamn gall to wear real fur?” Desi slides into the seat across from her. “The one that needs a chisel to take off her makeup at the end of the night?”

“That’s her. The one who looks like Sephora threw up on her face. Too bad you can’t apply makeup on the inside to make something more attractive. Because she is a real peach.”

“Bottle of your best house red,” Desi requests, and then flips open the leather bound menu placed in front of him. “How’d you meet her?”

“Well, it turns out she doesn’t just have the gall to wear real fur. She also has the gall to go after married men. And in this case, MY man.”

“Uh oh. Something tells me this didn’t end well.”

“I’m very protective of what’s mine. Maybe some people would call it possessive.”

“I definitely would call it that. Not that I blame you. I’d be the same way. Hell, I’d probably never let him leave the damn house.”

“I know what a good thing I have. I know how hot my husband is. I’ve seen him naked. Many times. What’s underneath? Even better than what’s on top. And what’s on top? That’s really damn good, know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean. And I’m just saying, I wouldn’t protest if you sent me nudes of him. Our little secret.”

“My husband IS hot. And he’s beautiful and he’s amazing and he’s this walking study in masculinity. But he’s just that. MY husband. I don’t share. With anyone.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve spent three years begging you just to let me cop a feel.”

“So I don’t appreciate some thirsty female from five doors down, honing in my territory. No one is pissing in my front yard. No one. And it’s not just that I’m possessive and there’s no way in hell I’m sharing great dick, but Tyler isn’t like that. He doesn’t do shit like that. He is a lot of things, but a cheater is not one of them. That is one thing I’ve never had to worry about. He is loyal. Fiercely loyal. And he’s had his chances. If he wanted to stray, he would have. Easily.”

“Never struck me as the type who would. He’s way too in love with you. Way too faithful. I see the way he looks at you. Stars and hearts in his eyes. He definitely thinks rainbows and butterflies fly out your ass. So this Natalie…”

“They met at the park. He took Tanner there; after their morning out. And this Natalie was there. Tyler made small talk. And small talk is even exaggerating. Tyler doesn’t do small talk. Any talk, for that matter.”

Desi nods in agreement. “Took me damn near a whole weekend just to get him to say two words. That voice though? Woody. Instant.”

“Well I guess Natalie took his small talk for something else entirely. Which I don’t get, because Tyler is civil, at best. He’s just not a people person. He tries. But you know what he’s like. How he comes across. He’s very rough around the edges and doesn’t take shit and doesn’t care for formalities. He’s a man of very few words. Whatever words he said, she read way too much into. She showed up at the house. Looking for him.”

Desi looks up from his menu, a scowl forming on his face. “She did not.”

“Oh, she very much did. And get this. She made him cookies.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme stares at him pointedly.

“I like details. I’m detail oriented. I can’t help it.”

“Oatmeal raisin.”

“The most traitorous cookie out of them all. For shame. I’m disappointed. If you want a man to climb in your bed, you don’t lead with oatmeal raisin. Please tell me your man don’t like that shit.”

“Rest assured, he hates them and your opinion and lust for him can stay intact. But you can believe that? She came calling on my husband. She brought him cookies. And I’m pretty sure if he’d been home, she would have offered him HER cookie.”

“Probably just as nasty as the ones she makes. Probably got cobwebs and dust bunnies and all that shit. Maybe even a barbed wire fence blocking the entrance. So what happened?”

“Well, she got the cold shoulder and snarkiness from Millie first.”

“That’s my girl.”

“And then I talked to her and she was bitchy and off hand and she’s lucky I didn’t throat punch her. She had all kinds of snarky things to say. About my name, about my appearance, about having so many kids. I let her know that I wasn’t having any of her shit. That I was onto her. I told her I didn’t know what kind of married men she was used to, but my husband isn’t one of them. That he wasn’t...and never would be...interested.”

“And?”

“And she left. We fed the cookies to the dogs. Or tried to. Even they didn’t like them. Man’s best friend, indeed.”

A waitress brings the wine; cheerfully introducing herself before taking their orders. Desi waits until she leaves before uncorking the bottle and filling both glasses. Offering a toast to a warm and safe Christmas holiday and the perks and perils of love and friendships. And they’re in the middle of sharing stories of his last trip to Australia -his encounters with the both the ‘friendly neighbourhood Aussies’ and the wildlife that so freely roams and enjoys their stretch of land- when her cell phone loudly vibrates within the confines of her purse. Had Tyler not been out with all of the children and it not been a common thing to often run into some kind of issues with handling so many bodies, she would have just ignored it. And she wishes she had; frowning at the number splashed across the screen and then dropping the phone back into her bag.

“Your mom again?”

Nodding, she takes a swallow of wine. “Third time already today. Only four or five more to go. Maybe she’ll even make it an even dozen before sundown.”

“Can she not read the signs? It’s quite obvious you don’t want to speak to her. What’s her issue?”

“It’s probably easier to ask ‘what isn’t her issue?’. There’s many. So very, very, VERY many.”

“I already know about what she was like you when were growing up. I’m surprised you turned out as normal and sane as you are. It’s more than that?”

“So much more, Des. Where do you want me to start?”

“Start with the biggest one. Or most recent.”

“She hates Tyler. With the passion of a thousand fiery suns. The seventh layer of hell? I don’t think that even burns as hot as her hate for him.”

“Why? He’s a good guy. Treats you right, loves his kids. Will fight like hell to protect what’s us. Die for it, even. What’s to hate?”

“So you know how Tyler and I met. The whole ‘pretend husband and wife’ thing.”

“Yeah, to find Ovi and save him. What about it?”

“Well you also know what happened. During those five days in Dhaka. Between Tyler and I. Believe me when I say that I’m not normally like that. Spend nearly a week banging a guy I barely know. Unprotected, at that. And at the risk of too much information, Tyler was only the third guy I’d ever been with. Sexually speaking. So what happened between us? Totally uncharacteristic for me. It was unconventional. How we met. But, it worked out. We wanted more. We wanted to get to know each other. See if we could make something out of nothing. And we did. We made a life. A beautiful life. And seven little human beings.”

“And she’s got a problem with that because…?”

“After what happened on the bridge, I decided to stay. At the hospital he was flown to in Mumbai. It was touch and go and he didn’t have anyone else and if he wasn’t going to make it, I didn’t want him to be alone. He deserved better than that. And a week later they brought him out of the medically induced coma and he was breathing on his own and he woke up and he was so happy to see me. You should have seen how he smiled at me, Des. He has a beautiful smile. But that? That smile he gave when he realized I was real and I was actually sitting there? By his bed? I had never seen anything like that and I’ve never seen anything like it since. He was happy and relieved and he wanted me there. He even said he was scared to close his eyes at night because he was afraid I wouldn’t be there when he woke up.”

“He was already head over heels for ya. Guess that was his way of telling you.”

“When the hospital said they were shipping him to another back in Australia, he asked if I would go with him. By then I was already invested. I mean, it was three weeks later and I’d already spent time helping him feed himself and getting him on his feet and to the bathroom and taking him to in-patient physio and all of that. I was already in love with him. Of course I was going to Australia. It was never in doubt.”

“And let me guess, it ruffled your mother’s feathers.”

Nodding, Esme takes a long sip of wine. “She wasn’t in control. Of me. And she couldn’t stand it. Neither she or my brothers no longer had in any say in how I was going to live my life. The Esme they knew? She died on that bridge. Or maybe she was left behind. I had a chance. To make a new life for myself. And I took it. I went to Australia and I decided that was where I wanted to be. I wanted to be with HIM. So I took what money we had and I got us an apartment and he put me in charge of handling everything; medical decisions, financial stuff. And then, I found out I was having Millie. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a huge surprise because what do you expect when you spend five days having totally unprotected sex? And I told Tyler and I gave him a choice. If he didn’t want me or the baby, I’d walk away and I’d go home and I’d never contact him again. I told him I didn’t expect anything from him. And I didn’t want him feeling obligated to me or the baby.”

“That must have went over well.”

“Well, needless to say, he wanted the baby. And me. So I stuck around. I was by his side through his whole hospital stay and through all the therapy and his stint in rehab and then we settled down in our new life. And we got married and had Millie. My family? They couldn’t stand it. They couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t accept HIM.”

“All because you decided to make a new life for yourself?”

“That was it. Tyler became public enemy number one. My mom convinced everyone that he stole me away. That he was manipulative and abusive and that I was scared to leave him.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Right? Tyler is so far from manipulative or abusive. He lived that life. He was on the receiving end of that. And he’s tried his hardest not to walk in his father’s footsteps. And believe me, he’s nothing like his old man. Not in the slightest. But no matter how much or how hard I argue, she doesn’t listen to me. She sees him as this horrible person. That took her baby girl away. And when he had the nerve to stick up for me? Against her and my brothers? That made things worse! You think they would have been happy. I found this amazing man who’s totally in love with me; who sees past all my bullshit and my ugly parts. That should have been enough for them. A guy that’s made me the centre of his universe. Who makes me happy and who I love more than I ever thought I COULD love someone. Who helped me make seven incredible little human beings. Why isn’t any of that enough?”

“I don’t know,” Desi says. “I wish I did. I wish I had the answers. ALL the answers.”

“Yet they practically idolize Mark. It makes no sense. They knew what he was like. They knew he was abusive. And they enabled him. They gaslighted me just as much as he did. And I would have left a thousand times over had they not constantly pressured me into giving him another chance. Had they not convinced me that everything was my fault. My mom stayed friends with him. Right up until he died. What kind of sick person does that? Stays friends with their own kid’s abuser?”

“You hit the nail on the head. A sick one.”

“Constantly kissing his ass and making him out to be some kind of white knight yet having all this shit to say about Tyler. They hate him because he refuses to be like them. Because he stands up to them. Because for once, someone loves me enough to have my back. That’s it. That’s why they hate him. And the things they’ve said? Especially since finding out he’s a mercenary? Constantly wishing death on him? Saying him dying would be the best thing to happen to me and the kids? Who says things like that? I almost lost Addie because of her. I came back from Ireland because I found out I was pregnant and my mom got on her bullshit and I almost lost my baby. Tyler came all the way back just to make sure I was okay. He wouldn’t have done it if he’s even a fraction as evil as they claim he is.”

“You realize it that isn’t really about him, right? That it’s all them. Because they don’t have that control. Over you.”

“I thought it would be all over and done with when we kicked my brother to the curb. I thought once he and Tyler had it out and Tyler kicked the shit out of him, that would be it. That we’d never hear from any of them again. You know how peaceful it’s been? Five years of no phone calls, no text messages, no emails. Five years of pure bliss. And now this…” she nods down at the purse sitting in her lap. “...her on my ass every day, multiple times a day. Isn’t it enough that I acknowledge that the kids received their Christmas gifts? That I showed appreciation and I said they’d send thank you cards? You think that would be enough. Our lives have been so good. Quiet and happy and peaceful. And it’s like she knows that. It’s like she knows how good things are and just has to screw it all up.”

“Normally I say just ignore them. Just wash toxic people out of your life and keep them out of your life. But if she’s as determined as she is, it’s only going to get worse. She won’t stop trying to get a hold of you. And as hard as it’ll be to talk to her, that might be the only way to get her to stop. Let her know. Say ‘thanks, but no thanks’.”

“I can not allow her back into my life. OUR lives. I can’t allow any of them back in. I will NOT have my kids surrounded by that ugliness. I will not have people around them that talk shit about their father. Because you know what? I know he’s not perfect. I know he has his issues. He’s the first one to admit it. But he is an amazing dad and he is totally devoted to those kids and they love him beyond all comprehension. And I won’t allow people to talk about him like that. I won’t allow them to break my kids’ hearts…” her voice cracks with emotion, and she takes a swallow of wine to clear away the lump sitting square in her throat. “....I won’t let anyone talk about Tyler like that. He’s not a perfect man, but he’s a good man. And he loves me and he loves his kids. He saved me, Des. In every way a person can be saved. And I won’t let anyone disrespect him like that.”

“Tell them that. Tell them EXACTLY that.”

“I have. I have said it until I was practically blue in the face. They don’t care. They say I’m ‘defending my abuser’. In what alternate universe is he considered an abuser? He has never...ever...raised a hand to me. He’s always said he’d kill himself before he ever let things get that out of control. That he’d never be able to live with himself if he even thought about hurting me like that. And maybe in a way, I DO understand some of the way they think. He’s lived a hard life. A violent life. First the military, then as a mercenary. Yes, he’s killed people. With his bare hands. But he’s never done it because he wanted to. Or because he enjoyed it. He did it because he HAD to. Because it was either him or them. He is not a monster. Regardless of what they think. Or even he thinks sometimes.”

“You’ve never been scared of him?”

“Never. And you know what? If he WANTED to, he could do some serious damage to me. He could kill me. No question about it. But that thought has never, ever crossed my mind. I’ve never been afraid of him. Not even at his worst. When he went back to drinking all the time and abusing the pain meds and we fought constantly. And yeah, there were times he DID lose it. Where he put a fist through the wall or grabbed me trying to stop me from walking away or trying to calm me down and talk some sense into me. But I’ve never been scared of him. Because even at his worst, I knew he loved me. I knew none of his issues were about me. That was him and his brain and not knowing how to cope. And they just don’t get it. They think he’s somehow frightened me into sticking around. That he’s been forcing me to have children. Because it somehow keeps me around.”

“Sounds more like they have the issues. Not you guys.” Desi reaches for the bottle of wine, refilling both their glasses.

“We’re not perfect. And Lord knows we have had some really shitty times. Where we didn’t think we were going to make it. But you know what? We did. We fixed our shit and we made things work. We both busted our asses to change. And he still busts his ass every day to make up for all the bad. We work at it, Des. Every day we work at it. Because we love each other and we both know what it's like to be from a broken home. And we won’t do that to our kids. We won’t let them grow up like that. So we work at it. And it hasn’t been easy. But there’s been more great times than bad times.”

“You two are strong. What you got is strong. No one can deny that. I’ve seen it. With my own two eyes.”

“I will not let my family ruin us. They tried. And in Colorado, they almost succeeded. But we got away. We moved back home. Our REAL home. And we never looked back. I won’t let them destroy things for us. Not when we’ve worked so hard to get where we are.”

“You’re going to have to deal with her, Esme. She isn’t going to go away. Not from what I’ve seen.”

“And I will. I WILL talk to her. After Christmas. I just want to get through the holiday. I just want things to be happy and peaceful. Especially for the kids. I don’t want anyone ruining Christmas for them. Once it’s over and things calm down, I WILL talk to her. But right now? I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“It’s all going to be alright,” Desi assures her, and reaches across the table to give her hand a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s going to work out.”

“Tyler isn’t perfect. He’s the first one to admit that. In the same way I’m not. But you know what? We’re perfect for each other. And in the end, that’s all that matters.”

*****

When she arrives home she finds the three littlest fast asleep; tightly snuggled together on the area rug in front of the Christmas tree and covered by the knitted throw usually draped over the back of the sofa. Saju and Mac nap close by; curled up together in front of the front of the fireplace and merely blinking their eyes in a form of acknowledging her presence. She can hear Millie and Alannah upstairs; giggling and chattering, their feet stomping overhead as they play a dance game on the XBox. The three oldest boys are out in the backyard; laughter drifting inside as they hide behind ‘fortress’ walls and lob snowballs at one another. It's rare to see the three of them enjoying time together. Tanner normally not comfortable with the more raucous play and choosing quiet time; up in his room reading a book or writing stories or building intricate lego scenes in front of the fireplace.

She stands in the sunroom and watches them; smiling at how jovial and lighthearted they are. Their faces bright and happy; no cares in the world aside from the balls of snow and ice being tossed in their direction. Despite everything they’d been through, they’re spirits so brilliant and bubbly, continuing to love the world and everyone in it. Tanner and TJ (along with Millie) are able to remember the more difficult times in Colorado and being whisked to Mumbai under false pretenses; told they were going on a family vacation only to be sent back to Australia without either parent and then told their father very well might never come home. They still talk about it from time to time; how scary it had been to be away from both mom AND dad and how worried they’d been when they thought their daddy may never make it back to them. They’re able to vividly recall visiting him in the hospital; the scars and bruises on his face that had been in various stages of healing, the sling keeping his badly wounded and surgically repaired shoulder in place, the ‘cage’ that had encased his right thigh, the tremendous amount of weight and muscle he had lost. It HAD been traumatic; more than two months without their father under the same roof and seeing him so wounded and vulnerable.

They’d needed their own therapy; the trauma manifesting itself through moments of rage and aggression and troubles sleeping at night. A child psychologist recommended to them by Doctor Klein had done them all a world of good; disguising therapy with music and play and helping them express their emotions and their fears. And within six months they were back to their old selves; grades climbing and their social skills improving, the rage and aggression diminishing. It still haunts them from time to time; a fear that returns whenever daddy has to leave home for work. But for the most part they’ve healed exceptionally well; full of energy and light and humour and possessing enormous amounts of compassion and empathy.

She finds Tyler in the main floor office; a central area of the main floor that had been the previous owner’s sewing and craft room. It’s close enough to keep an ear out for the kids; able to hear them both inside and out. And a security system enables him to keep an eye on any area of the house; live images cast back to the flat screen television mounted on the wall above the desk. Five years years ago she would have called him paranoid for insisting on such measures. Overprotective, even. But that was until someone had gotten close enough to Addie to steal a stuffed animal right out of her crib. Had the culprit wanted her, she would have been long gone in the middle of the night. And they most likely never would have seen her again. The terror of that night is still very real; the thought of someone reaching across her tiny body to take something so simple in the course of sending a very clear message.

After that, Esme had vowed to never call him paranoid or overprotective again. Evil had gotten too close. WAY too close. And she now understands his fierce and rabid determination to do whatever it takes to keep his family safe.

She watches him from the doorway; intently working at the computer. Admiring the glasses perched upon his face and the lines of his profile; the strong, stubbled jaw and the curve of his lips and the bump in the bridge of his nose. The scars that had long ago become part of him. Marring the left side of his forehead and by his left eye; old wounds that he’d possessed when they’d first met. A handful of others have been added since then. The edge of a metal shovel cutting wide and deep; the scar travelling from the very corner of his right eye and up his forehead and snaking up into his hairline. And the ones left behind from Nathan. The one above his eyebrow thin and faint, the one below his eye much wider and jagged and stretching all the way to his temple. That one had been the worst; deep enough for the knife blade to hit bone and cause irreparable damage to nerves and muscle. And while most would see them as blemishes and flaws, she sees it as adding to his beauty; souvenirs of not only a hard and dangerous life, but of survival.

“Hey,” she greets as she wanders into the room. “What’cha doing, handsome?”

“Just some shit that came up. I would have ignored it, but…”

She stands at the back of his chair. Fingers and thumbs rubbing at tense shoulder muscles before wrapping both arms around his neck; leaning over him and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, followed by his temple. “Everything alright?”

“Koen ran into some issues. On the job he took. Not going as smooth as we’d hoped it would. Just had to send him some extra cash. And put him in contact with someone who could get him some extra gear.”

“He’s alright though? He’s not in any trouble?”

“He’s fine. Nothing he can’t handle. I know I said I wouldn’t bother with work stuff until we go back home, but…”

“Sometimes it can’t be helped. It’s the nature of the beast. It isn't the most predictable of careers. I’m glad to see you survived your day out with the spawn. Is your sanity still intact?”

“What was left of it. I don’t know how much I had to begin with.”

“I also noticed all seven AND Alannah made it back. Success.”

��They were good. No trouble. They all behaved themselves. Shockingly.”

“Your feral offspring all behaving at once? Hell must have frozen over.”

He gives a small chuckle, then turns his face into her and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. A frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pulls back to look at her.

“What’s that look for?”

“Why do you still have your hat on? It’s fucking boiling in here.”

“It’s part of my surprise. I have something to show you.”

“Yeah?” A slow grin begins to spread across his face. “I’ve already seen you naked. Many times. Not that it’s not awesome each time it happens. I’m not complaining.”

“As much as I’d love to just drop my clothes right here and rock your world, it’s something else. I did something. While I was out.”

“New ink?”

“Nope.”

“You got something pierced, didn’t you. Something naughty. Something very naughty.”

“You wish. Those days are long behind me. But it is a surprise. And I want you to promise you won’t freak out. When you see it.”

“How bad is it? Usually when you tell me not to freak out, it’s pretty fucking bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s just...surprising. You ready?”

“Is it a good thing I’m already sitting down?”

“It’s probably for the best. Turn your chair towards me and close your eyes.”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“What the hell have you done?”

“Just do it. Humour me. Please.”

“Fine.” Turning his back towards the computer, he closes his eyes. “This isn’t where you tell me you want to try pegging is it? Because I thought I’ve already made it perfectly clear that there is no fucking chance of that happening. EVER.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s nothing sexual. Get your mind out the gutter, sheesh.”

“I’m sorry, have we met? It permanently lives in the gutter.”

“Never mind viagra. Maybe they can give you something to calm your dick down.”

“You’d miss it. Don’t deny it. It would hurt you just as much as it would hurt me. Are we going to do this surprise sometime today or…?”

Removing the knit beanie from her head, she tosses it out the desk and then runs her fingers through her hair. She feels naked and exposed; the dark tresses that had once reached the middle of her back now shorn and styled into a side parted, sleek bob that skims her earlobes. “Promise you won’t freak out.”

“I promise I won’t lose my shit.”

“Okay...open them...but remember, no freaking out.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. If it’s nothing dirty or kinky or piercing of some kind…” His eyes flutter open, then slowly widen as the reality of what’s before him sets in.

“You hate it don’t you.”

“I don’t hate it. I just...wow...that’s...NOT what I was expecting.”

“You do, don’t you. Hate it. I knew you would. You always hate when I do something with my hair. Like when I decided to get bangs.”

“In all fairness, I didn’t hate them. I just wasn’t a fan.”

“But you HATE this? This haircut. You hate it being so short, don’t you.”

“Actually…” he slides the chair closer to her and lays his hands on her hips. “...I love it.”

“Yeah?” A smile replaces the nervous frown. “Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t lie to you, Me. That’s not who I am. Not anymore, anyway.”

“You sure you like it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“I think you look beautiful. It suits you. You got this cute, tiny little face. Your hair shows it off. I really do love it. You look amazing.”

Placing her hands on the sides of his face, she leans down to kiss him. “It was time for a change. Something different. Something I didn’t have to spend hours on when we go out. You’re sure? One hundred percent? You really do love it?”

“I do. You look beautiful.” Laying a palm on the back of her head, he pulls her down into a kiss. And she laughs into his mouth when his free hand latches onto her hip and she loses her balance and topples into him. “You’re beautiful, Me. Always.”

“I really was worried you wouldn’t like it,” she says, as she settles herself sideways on his thighs. “So you’ve made my day. My year, actually.”

“It suits you. You look amazing, baby. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Speaking of making my year, I’m about to make yours.”

“We’re talking about butt stuff, aren’t we.”

“No!” she laughs, and playfully tousles his hair. “I mean, maybe later. When the kids are out.”

“Where are they going? You banishing them to the backyard?”

“Desi offered to take them.”

“All of them?”

“Every last one. Even Alannah. He’s going to take them out for dinner and to Central Park. To see Santa and the reindeer. Maybe do some skating. And then, he’s going to take them to his place. They’re going to have a camp out. In the living room.”

“So we get the house to ourselves? All night?”

“All night,” she confirms. “And well into the morning. You know what that means?”

“Butt stuff.”

She sighs in exasperation. “I means you don’t have to wait until New Years Eve for wild and crazy AND noisy sex with your wife.”

“We might have to tone down the noise. The kids will be right next door. They could still hear us.”

“That’s a fair point. So noisy is out. But wild and crazy are definitely in.”

Tyler grins. “I can do wild and crazy.”

“Oh, I know you can. You’re a master at it. A master at anything sexual, now that I think about it. Man, did I ever luck out. Landing you.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m the lucky one. Girl like you putting up with my shit? You’re one in a million, babe. No doubt about it.”

“I love you,” she says, pressing a kiss to his ear and then nuzzling his temple with the tip of her nose. “More than you could ever know. And thank you. For being you. And for loving me the way you do.”

Smiling, he turns his face into hers and places his lips to her brow; a hand coming up to comb through her hair, palm settling on the nape of her neck. “You’ve made it pretty damn easy.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

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mythicamagic · 4 years

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Impostor Syndrome: Sesskag oneshot

Summery: Kagome is resurrected by a grief stricken husband- brought back to fill his late wife Kikyo’s shoes. While the characteristics unique to Kagome are rejected by Inuyasha, there’s a certain Daiyoukai who has a fascination with her blue eyes, sun kissed skin and curling hair.

Rated T (angst, relationship drama, romance and hurt/comfort) 7,000+ words.

AN: Inuyasha plays a more antagonistic role here but in case you’ve never read my stuff before, just know that I do like him and love me some good platonic best friends Inukag, as seen in Conversing with Emotion and Swimming in Silk. It’s just that I like to play around with the characters, so forgive me for how he’s written in this one.

No smut here but please enjoy.

Impostor Syndrome

There once was a young man who married for love. Born a half-demon, he never anticipated anyone loving him, let alone a priestess; enemy to his father’s kin.

But just as he did not fit in with demon or humankind, she did not belong within the role assigned to her either. An extraordinary woman wishing to be ordinary. To be free from the weight of expectation placed upon her shoulders.

And so they’d fled.

After marrying for love the young man experienced pure, quiet happiness with his wife. She had a calming spirit that could turn hard as flint, blinding in her cold ruthlessness. She could slay enemies efficiently and with poised control yet turn soft and loving for him alone.

They lived for a time together in the forest, keeping to their personal haven.

Because of her skill, the young man trusted her power not to fail on the night of the new moon.

He howled his grief and despair long into the early hours of morning after discovering her broken body lying in the grass of a clearing.

But that was not quite the end of the man who married for love. Instead, he attempted to play God.

—-

She took her first breath and broke into a coughing fit. Rising up from the cold floor, a young woman shivered. Glancing down, she found herself covered in sticky sweat, completely bare.

“Kikyo,” someone breathed, barely above a whisper.

The young woman started. Her hand was caught between two larger ones that clasped her fingers tight, squeezing. Blue eyes raised to the stranger with muted confusion.

He blinked with equal confusion and mounting anger, sniffing. “You don't… smell like her,” the words came faintly. “Why doesn’t she smell like her!” He burst, causing the woman to jolt.

“Master Inuyasha, the spell you desired is a finicky one.” A slippery, hoarse voice came from behind them, dripping fake pleasantries. “Be patient. Your wife may not look or smell quite the same but her memories will return from the dead.”

Inuyasha glared over his shoulder at the witch who lingered in the entrance to his hut like an unwanted spectre. “She better. This ain’t what I agreed to,” he stood, fists trembling.

The girl at his feet stared with furrowed brows, uncertain why disappointment brimmed in the stranger’s eyes. Nonetheless, he seemed to try and correct his attitude, reaching down to grasp thin arms. Roughly tugging her to stand, he supported her around the waist when she wobbled. “I guess we’ll just take this slow,” he sighed. “I’m your husband, Inuyasha. And your name is Kikyo.”

She blinked and tried to steady herself on trembling legs, frowning.

The very first words out of her mouth were;

“I’m not Kikyo.”

—-

Perhaps those words didn’t help endear her to Inuyasha. Nonetheless, he resolved to start from scratch.

‘Kikyo’ was given his late wife’s clothes to wear, smoothing the priestess robes over her body. However, with every opportunity, the woman slipped out of the robes in order to wear a yukata or kimono instead. Anything but the miko attire. It set his teeth on edge. At least she held the holy power of a priestess like his wife.

She understood his language and already knew the basics of reading and writing. Inuyasha took this to be a good sign since his late wife had been educated.

When it came to other things, the woman tried her best to learn the necessary herbs for healing as instructed. Yet her attention often wandered away, lost in a daydream.

“Oi,” he grunted. “Focus. Kikyo was dedicated to this stuff.”

“But we already have enough herbs from yesterday,” sighing, she straightened and rested the basket of herbs against her hip. “Can’t we do something else?” Blue eyes lingered on the treetops. “Is there a beach near here? I’d really like to see the ocean.”

White ears flicked and pressed to his skull. “Where’d you hear about beaches? I never took Kikyo to one.”

She continued to gaze longingly at the trees, as though looking through them to somewhere else, somewhere far away. Inuyasha grit his teeth, bristling. Grasping the woman’s chin and turning it slightly to better inspect the structure of her face, he tsked. “Damn it… wish your eyes were brown like they used to be,” he grumbled. “Hurry up and remember everything already. You’re not acting right.”

Blue eyes slid away, lips thinning. “I’m just acting like myself…”

“Keh, you ain’t anyone else but Kikyo,” dropping her chin, he straightened. “Things are weird right now but they’ll go back to normal as soon as you remember, I promise.”

The young woman buried her feelings anew. She’d been doing that a lot lately. When he walked away and called for Kikyo, it took her a moment to remember that she’d been assigned such a name. It didn’t sit right on her tongue.

—

Inuyasha lived fairly isolated within the woods with his wife. However, there were those who knew where to find him. Namely: his half brother.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you used it?”

“I have used it.”

“Experimenting with the sword on Jaken and a little girl does not count,” Inukimi hummed with amusement, watching her son with dancing eyes.

Sesshoumaru’s narrowed, head tilting back and brushing long silver hair over his shoulder. “As this one has stated numerous times; a sword of healing is a useless prop for a warlord to wield.”

His honoured mother hummed, resting her pale cheek in her palm boredly. “I do wish your Father were still with us to temper that disrespectful tongue of yours. Consider my words, pup. That sword should be used, and preferably to save a life that is precious to you. Don’t squander it, dearest. I thought you hated wasted potential.”

With a snort, Sesshoumaru took his leave. Disappointment radiated off Inukimi but he hardly cared. Whatever ‘lesson’ Father had intended for him to learn about Tenseiga was ultimately useless for a demon like him.

Returning to his own stronghold, Sesshoumaru listened to the reports from his advisers, before making his way down a hallway. Strange that his blood did not sing with the thrill of victory. Reports of his army’s success in battle were usually a favourable thing. Lately, however, there was no burning satisfaction. Perhaps he merely needed to visit the front lines again for himself. Jaken was most likely instructing Rin in her morning lessons at that time, so he made his way towards the gardens.

Whispers flitted into the air, irritating his ears. Sesshoumaru zeroed in on the hushed mutterings and paused mid-step. The Lord of the Western lands did not care much for idle gossip, yet a particularly prevalent one kept cropping up lately.

“Did ye hear? Master Inuyasha’s wife perished.”

“The priestess Kikyo?”

“Mn- and do not repeat this but I hear he revived her with the use of dark magic.”

“No!”

“Yes. Though I suppose he’d need to rely on such means. It is not as though Lord Sesshoumaru would lend him Tenseiga.”

At the mention of his name, a frosty gaze swung to the servants down the hallway. They squeaked and hurried away.

Though he loathed agreeing, the validity of their statement couldn’t be denied. He and his brother were not ‘close’ by any stretch of the imagination. Still, Sesshoumaru felt mildly curious about the whelp’s situation.

This curiosity resulted in the Daiyoukai gliding through the sky that afternoon. It took a few hours, but Sesshoumaru followed his memory towards Inuyasha’s humble hut. He did not land gracefully before the house, instead keeping to the surrounding bushes. Moving near silently under the heavy shade of the trees, pointed ears twitched.

Thwack.

Sesshoumaru scented the air and minded some low hanging branches aside, revealing the figure of a dark-haired young woman in the clearing ahead. She drew a bowstring back and arched her spine slightly, pulling taut. Taking in a breath, she released in time with the arrow sailing free.

Sesshoumaru’s eyes widened slightly, watching it fly through the air. Blazing, rippling light flowed around it like a fireball, crashing into the target and licking at the paper with burns before fading away.

“The hell was THAT?!”

Sesshoumaru dazedly forced his attention to Inuyasha, who stomped into view. “One: ya missed the bullseye! Two: your stance was wrong, and three: Kikyo had amazing control over her powers. She never woulda let them loose like that! Ya stupid or something? Do I gotta tell you the basics over and over?”

The miko sighed and dropped her arms, making a face. “Can’t you encourage me for once and say ‘good job?’ I try my best every time!”

“I’ll tell ya 'good job’ when you do one!”

Sesshoumaru raised a brow, watching as Inuyasha fell quiet. He reached up and contemplatively curled his fingers into the woman’s thick dark hair. The woman stilled, becoming watchful.

“It’s startin’ to kink at the ends again. Go wash it,” he grunted so softly Sesshoumaru’s hearing strained a little to catch it.

Blue eyes dimmed. The woman broke from Inuyasha’s touch to flee, hurrying away from their training grounds.

Sesshoumaru pursued.

Silently moving through the trees with all the grace of a jungle cat, limbs shifted and eyes assessed, gleaming bright in the shadows. Sesshoumaru leaned against a tree, remaining hidden by the foliage. The sound of muffled sobs reached his ears, almost buried under the noise of a waterfall. Salt fanned through the air. The woman knelt in a pool beside the falls, stripped down to a white underlayer yukata. She poured a bucket over her head, shuddering. Biting back sobs, she miserably combed shaking fingers through her hair, pausing to inspect the naturally curling dark locks.

“Just flatten. Why can’t you stay straight?” She sighed.

Sesshoumaru rose a brow as the young woman raised an arm, pushing back her sleeve to glare at her skin. “And don’t even get me started on you.”

When she did not elaborate, he found himself walking through the greenery, pushing past the bushes to inquire: “What exactly has your flesh done to offend you, madwoman?”

Starting violently, she fell back to land on her ass, creating a small splash. Blue eyes flew wide, flitting over his figure. Sesshoumaru let her drink him in. He often had that effect on people.

She gathered herself a little quicker than expected, rising. “I was just annoyed about being so tanned. My uh… husband,” the word was faint and sounded almost like a question. “He said his former wife was pale but she spent all her time outdoors. How’s that possible?!”

Sesshoumaru blinked languidly, tilting his head slightly. “Hn. This one was led to believe Inuyasha had resurrected the priestess Kikyo. However, you seem more like a replacement than her double.”

Flinching, she began ringing her hair. Water droplets slid down rosy cheeks and fell from the dark, dishevelled strands of midnight black locks. The white yukata plastered to her body almost indecently.

Sesshoumaru lifted his eyes from where they’d been lingering and caught her gaze. Colour leaked into her cheeks, darkening them further as she huffed. “You know Inuyasha, then?”

“This one is his half brother, Sesshoumaru.”

“Oh,” her eyes clouded with thought. “I didn’t know he had a brother. I don’t get to talk to anyone else but he still doesn’t tell me much about himself.”

Sesshoumaru watched as the woman bowed slightly. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m-” she caught herself, lips thinning. A dark look crossed her features before the name was pushed past her teeth like mud. “Kikyo. I'm… Kikyo.”

“No, you are not.”

The woman jolted and stared, fingers curling into her sleeves tightly. “I don't… have another name,” came a fragile murmur.

“Then give yourself one,” he uttered flatly, uncertain why he lingered. He supposed it displeased him on some level. Sesshoumaru did not like unnecessary waste. What he’d witnessed earlier of her powers hinted at a deep well of untapped potential in the girl. She’d likely not unlock it if Inuyasha kept her mind on trivial details like 'straight hair.’ “This one gave himself the name Sesshoumaru, or Killing Perfection. When a demon comes of age, they may choose a new one for themselves,” he elaborated. “I have been bred for war. So that is the most fitting name.”

She blinked and rubbed at her eyes, before raising her head, lips curving. “The 'killing’ part, sure. But 'perfection?’” She teased.

“I am very good at it,” he said in a silky tone.

Bursting into a laugh, the strange woman gave the brightest smile the demon lord had yet to witness, blue eyes glimmering. “I see. Thank you for the advice. I’ll do that.”

He frowned slightly, suddenly feeling a little odd. Hyper aware of his lack of reason to be there now, Sesshoumaru turned on his heel and walked away. In his eagerness to leave, he quite forgot to check in with Inuyasha himself.

A few days went by before Sesshoumaru made the journey back to Inuyasha’s home once more. Peace reigned throughout the Lord’s lands so he allowed himself the 'entertainment’ of watching Inuyasha’s latest drama. It was most definitely not to glimpse the miko again, nor to monitor her progress.

She seemed to have improved her aim, yet the reiki remained unfiltered and untrained. What was Inuyasha doing?

Ah, it seemed he was in the middle of their latest shouting match.

Clearly yelling would not make the girl learn any faster. Golden eyes cut to the sky. Why did he have to get involved?

“Concentrate your energy into the arrow.”

“Huh?” The woman glanced over her shoulder, now left briefly unmonitored by the whelp. She shifted the bow and arrow in her hands, dressed in traditional red and white miko attire today. They made her look like a Kikyo doll. “I don’t…know how,” she confessed. “It always feels like there’s so much of it. Like I’m trying to hold onto water that’s pouring too quick. I can cup a little into my hands, but the rest overflows.”

Sesshoumaru hummed, gaze ripping itself away from the light catching in her hair, causing some strands to shine a strangely blue hue. “Practice yields results. Eventually you will manage to filter the 'water’ into the arrow and allow the excess to flow back into you.”

She nodded and faced the target, elbows drooped and feet too close together. Biting back a sigh, he approached.

A hand met her elbow, pushing to raise it. “Keep your arms in this position…” his deep baritone became clogged with a velvety rumble, finding her scent not unpleasant when it brushed over his senses. His palm met the base of her spine, prodding to arch her back. She felt warm to the touch.

He then slid a foot between her own, nudging her legs to part wider. A rapid heartbeat thundered in his ears. “This is the correct stance.”

“A-ah, thanks.”

With a palm pressing against her back, Sesshoumaru felt it when she inhaled a breath, coiling static energy into the wooden arrow and releasing it.

The arrow flew free, missing the bullseye. However, the holy powers raced over her bow in an agitated manner before settling back down instead of scotching the target.

Better, he mused.

She gave a much louder whoop of success.

From that day on, he visited the miko in secret once each week. It pleased the slumbering desire within him to witness the smile come to her lips the instant blue eyes fell upon him. Like she’d been waiting. Whenever they met and the demon’s knuckles grazed her waist- her arm, her hair- the woman scrubbed herself afterwards in a hot spring or pool, mindful of Inuyasha’s keen nose.

Sesshoumaru’s voice was crisp and clear, instruction brief and to the point in his teaching. She tried her best as his pupil, grumbling sometimes but not outright complaining. Instead, the nameless woman threw herself wholeheartedly into what was demanded of her.

Two months later, she finally hit the bullseye with perfect control. Not a hint of reiki over-spilled.

“I did it!” The woman glanced over her shoulder to look up at him, beaming from ear to ear.

Sesshoumaru stared. Her happy scent washed over him in waves. His lips parted to drink it in easier. Faintly, the sleeping want for her stirred and stretched awake like a disturbed cat.

It was while staring that the dip of her collar hinting at succulent flesh laying just beneath- that something caught his eye. Her clothing shifted downwards, revealing a glimpse of something unmistakable.

A love bite.

The situation suddenly dawned on him, the ridiculousness of what he was doing. He should not get involved with Inuyasha’s wench. Hell, he shouldn’t even be there. What was he doing? He had wars to plan, subjects to lead. And yet he’d been waiting each day for that favoured time he’d visit her anew. Mentally he took a step back.

“Sesshoumaru?”

He frowned at the familiarity with which she used his name. At his pensive silence, dark brows pulled together and she bit her lip maddeningly.

Foolish miko. This one’s teeth should be the ones to catch your lips and bite down-

“Oi, Kikyo!” Came a distant shout.

They both jolted, Sesshoumaru raising his head. He did not run nor hide, because Sesshoumaru did not flee from anyone.

From out of the forest greenery, Inuyasha burst forth, snarling. He raised a hand and flexed his fingers. “I thought I smelled ya. The hell are you doing here, Sesshoumaru? Back off. That’s my wife you’re hovering around.”

“Is that so?” He uttered, raising his chin in a lofty manner. “She is so changed in appearance and scent this one mistook her for a different human entirely.”

Out of his peripheral vision, the woman flinched. For some reason, this set his teeth on edge. She should not think it an insult. Inuyasha’s words were starting to infect her, seep into the woman’s self-image, rotting it like poison.

Not that this one cares.

Inuyasha snarled. “She’s gonna go back to normal soon, it ain’t any of your business!”

“No, it is not. In fact, it is far beneath my notice,” he uttered, claws flexing. And then because he could, Sesshoumaru blurred through the air and struck. His fist plummeted into Inuyasha’s cheek, sending the hanyou sailing away and crashing into the ground.

His half brother sputtered and snarled, sitting up and holding his cheek. “The fuck was that for?! You wanna fight?”

“I have little inclination to linger here any longer than necessary,” Sesshoumaru lied, turning on his heel and passing the miko. Sadness fanned out from her scent, irritating his senses. She didn’t look at him, which the Daiyoukai found displeasing and unacceptable. Nonetheless, he walked away.

—-

Dark, wild hair had been tamed back into a low ponytail the next time he saw the miko. It was unfortunate that she happened to also see him. Oddly, the usual method of concealing his youki hadn’t worked, and she’d zeroed in on his presence within the trees. Perhaps she had much-untapped potential.

“Sesshoumaru?”

Gracefully dropping from the branches elicited a gasp from the woman. “Y-you’re injured!”

Sesshoumaru glanced at his shoulder wound. Blood had leaked into the red crest patterning his clothes, dying it a deeper crimson. “Hn.”

“Don’t you 'hn’ me! What happened? Why aren’t you treating it?” She fussed, approaching to grip the clean material of his white silks and try to pry them away from the wound, squinting at the slash marks.

“In a few hours this one will be healed. There is little reason to fuss, woman,” he tried to bat her hand away but surprise froze his veins when she caught his striped wrist. Her hands felt soft and smaller than his own, but firm and sure.

“I’m going to fetch my supplies. You wait here or I’ll damn track you down myself, got that?” She threatened, blue eyes sparking in such a way that they made the male twitch and wish for a different kind of touch from the miko. Sesshoumaru bit the inside of his cheek, watching her hurry away.

When she returned, Sesshoumaru had reclined against a tree, arm draped gracefully over one bent leg. The woman dropped to her knees before him and reached for his collar, gaze flicking to his wordlessly for permission.

He granted it by glancing away mutely, throat tight. For some reason, saliva pooled in his mouth the moment she began undressing him. It was foul to be affected so. She only aimed to aid him. Still, Sesshoumaru sat rigidly still while her gentle scent flitted and teased his senses.

“I think I’ve found a name for myself,” she hummed while cleaning his wound.

“Hn?”

“It’s Kagome.”

“That is acceptable.”

She giggled, “I’m glad you like it.”

“I did not say that.”

Kagome bandaged the flesh, despite him informing her that it was not necessary. He also did not stop her. Every faint brush of her fingertips became distracting, silently invited.

“It’s a really nice day,” she hummed, wiping her brow. The humidity made her bangs puff up. He hated that he found it endearing. “Perfect beach weather day. Does Rin enjoy going there? I’d love to meet her and take her paddling,” she babbled and cooed.

“I have not taken her. Why do you wish to go to the beach so badly? You mention it often.”

“Huh? I don’t think I’ve talked about it to you before?”

Sesshoumaru fell into moody silence, inwardly kicking himself. Thankfully she carried on, thinking she had a faulty memory rather than accusing him of eavesdropping. “I don’t know why exactly. I just keep feeling like it’s where I’ll find something important. Like I can see this image in my mind of the sun setting beyond the waves. It’s peaceful, but also kind of scary at the same time. Maybe it’s the last thing I saw before I died? Who knows.”

He glanced down, feeling hot breath fan over his exposed chest. “Hn…I suppose you were brought back from the same place Inuyasha intended to pull Kikyo from.”

“Mhm, though I don’t remember anything else about my previous life.” Kagome shrugged, fixing the silks back over his bandaged shoulder and smoothing the hankimono back into place over his chest. She fixed his collar with gentle hands, fussing like a wife.

A wife…

Sesshoumaru frowned slightly, startled to find her attention on his mouth. His heart started to pick up, blood heating when those intoxicating blue eyes flitted up to drink him in.

She abruptly broke the spell between them by getting to her feet and picking up the forgotten bandages and alcohol she’d used for disinfectant. Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out to lock on her wrist.

Kagome stilled, lips thinning. “Please let go, Sesshoumaru.”

“Do you intend to return to that whelp in such a hurry?”

“At least I’m not 'beneath his notice’.”

Golden eyes cracked a fraction wider. So, his words had truly been the ones to cause her sadness. They’d bothered her. His grip tightened slightly, causing her to flinch.

“You’re hurting me, let go.”

“A human like you should be beneath my notice,” he uttered, shifting to stand before her. Sesshoumaru took a step closer, leaning down. Pale strands fell loose from behind a pointed ear, rushing down to hide their faces from view behind a curtain of silver. “You are Inuyasha’s wench, a miko, a mortal. Many unsuitable things wrapped into one. And yet I linger…I wonder why.”

“So do I, since you clearly don’t want to be here,” she hissed lowly, cheeks blooming red.

Slit pupils grew a tad larger, dilating. Sesshoumaru inched closer, on the cusp of grasping something as their lips were but a hair’s breadth away- before she snapped her hand out, slapping him across the face.

Kagome ripped herself free, panting slightly and raising a hand to her lips. “I’m only good at archery now because you taught me, and I only wanted to be good at it because Inuyasha told me to be better. I have a name now because you told me to get one. I keep…doing things just because other people want them for me! You could’ve asked me to kiss you just then and I would’ve-” tears pricked her eyes. “Just like Inuyasha has asked me to kiss him and…”

She hugged her arms tightly to her body, shuddering and bowing in on herself, folding like crumpled paper. “I don’t know who I am. What I want. I-I don’t know if things would be any different with you, Sesshoumaru. So please, just leave me alone. You’re making me question things. I obviously do strange things to you too so let’s just drop whatever this is.”

Sesshoumaru sneered, “you are content with being his doll, then?”

“At least being a doll doesn’t hurt! He doesn’t see me, so it doesn’t feel as personal as getting rejected by someone whose opinion I care about!” Kagome snapped, light voice darkening into something raw and real. Sesshoumaru’s cheek stung despite her hand having left no mark, his skin too tough for such things.

Blue eyes filled with tears as she turned and fled, salt catching in the breeze.

—

Sesshoumaru marched with his troops. Remaining on the front lines of their latest battle, he raised his claws and bid the song of war to flood his veins.

The sensation did not come.

Bereft, Sesshoumaru found himself immensely sober with each life he took. The slash of his claws unhinging a jaw- his sword swinging to cleave a horse in two. All felt like a mechanism. Easy, flavourless.

After the enemy soldiers lay dead and he returned to his stronghold, Sesshoumaru listened to his men. They made merry throughout the night, demons through and through.

“Lord Sesshoumaru?”

Blinking, he glanced down at Rin from where he leaned against a pillar. She yawned and rubbed her eye with a tiny fist. “You’re covered in blood, my Lord.”

He supposed he hadn’t changed clothes. Looking at the little girl that he’d resurrected on a whim, Sesshoumaru was struck by a troubling revelation.

The Killing Perfection hadn’t enjoyed the killing.

A strange feeling permeated his being, new and foreign. Such insecurity did not belong in a being carved from confidence, but the blemish was there all the same.

He wanted the beach.

Giving a long, extinguished sigh, Sesshoumaru pinched the bridge of his nose with bloodied claws.

Sitting up from the futon, Kagome hugged the furs to her bare chest. Shivering from the chill in the air, she glanced down at Inuyasha’s sleeping face, a snore rumbling out of him.

An emptiness crawled higher within the bowels of her stomach, threatening to consume her lungs and steal her breath. Kagome pressed a hand to her mouth and hurried out of the hut. She’d given herself away. Allowed Inuyasha to indulge himself in her countless times now. And it wasn’t as though the hanyou hurt her- but every grunt and curse, every pleasured sigh of 'Kikyo’ dug deeper into her heart.

She’d told Sesshoumaru it didn’t hurt, but that had been a lie.

Squeezing stinging eyes shut, Kagome took a wobbly breath. Taking a few steadying gulps of air, she raised a tear-stained face to the crescent moon in the sky.

Setting her shoulders, something quietly shifted within the woman. She slapped her cheeks lightly and exhaled.

The next morning, while preparing breakfast, Kagome stilled when a hand reached over and lightly tugged on her wild bangs.

“Cut these,” Inuyasha said easily. “Kikyo had short, chopped bangs. I can cut em off later if ya want-”

“No.”

The hanyou blinked and froze, ears twitching. He then did a double-take, frowning. “What’d ya say?”

“I said no,” she muttered, resting clenched fists on her knees. “And there’s another thing; My name isn’t Kikyo. It’s Kagome.”

Inuyasha stared for a long while. Slowly, bushy brows drew down. His lips thinned, golden eyes hazing.

Kagome held his gaze, feeling a thrill of warning rush down her spine. It didn’t matter, she told herself. She’d always been an impostor, from her very first breath.

—-

Many moons had passed by the time Sesshoumaru lay eyes upon her.

Remaining under the shade of the trees, he watched as she gathered herbs. Kagome wore miko attire, dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Her skin looked paler, and he wondered if she’d either isolated herself indoors for a while or layered powder over her tanned skin. Even her frame looked thinner, from what he could tell.

The wild bangs that had fluffed up so endearingly in the humidity had been chopped into neater, more orderly bangs on her forehead. She did not chatter to herself or smile.

Rather, she worked diligently in silence. Inuyasha skinned a rabbit not too far away, his face content.

Sesshoumaru could’ve left things be then. He could have carried on with his life, never to be blemished or disrupted by confusing thoughts and desires for his brother’s miko again.

But then he happened to catch sight of her eyes.

Bursting from the treeline, Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out. Inuyasha’s snarl was ignored as the demon lord seized the woman’s chin and lifted it.

Sombre brown eyes stared back.

His own began to shake. “You are not her,” he breathed.

Kikyo frowned, her voice tempered and steeled like matured wine rather than the bright, confident tones of the other miko. “What are you talking about, demon? Unhand me at once.”

Sesshoumaru remained frozen until a hard force collided with his side, knocking him back enough to release her. Bellowing out an enraged snarl, Sesshoumaru’s hand snapped out- locking tight around Inuyasha’s neck as they struggled.

“Where is the miko Kagome?” He demanded.

White ears flicked and pressed to his skull. “The fuck are you talking about? Whose Kagome?”

“Your wife!” Sesshoumaru snarled, flicking his fingers out towards Kikyo. “This is not the woman you had with you previously. Where is she?”

Inuyasha sank sharp claws into his striped wrist, but the Daiyoukai barely flinched. “Keh…ah I get it now,” he growled. “It wasn’t working out, so I asked the oni sorceress who first used the spell on her to reverse it. I then tried to bring back Kikyo again and it worked out,” golden eyes darkened slightly with hazy stability. “She’s back now. Kikyo’s returned to me. It just took a little time- had to remind her of all her memories, but this time it’s definitely her, not like the other one.”

The other one…

Kagome’s breathtaking smile briefly came to mind.

Sesshoumaru’s grip tightened until Inuyasha chocked and squirmed, sinking his claws deeper into the Daiyoukai’s pale flesh until they scraped bone.

“By 'reverse it’ what do you mean, whelp?” He snarled, throat so tight it strained.

“Gah!- she’s a doll again. A clay pot! Ogoranko took the clay body back!”

Sesshoumaru released him, sending the hanyou staggering to the floor. Heedless of the blood pooling to the surface, running down his tattered wrist, he turned and collected white energy around himself, bursting away from the earth within a bright, glowing orb of light. He left behind the reunited couple, Kikyo’s gaze apathetic as she watched Inuyasha struggle to catch his breath.

—

Flying as pure, unfiltered instinct, Sesshoumaru forgot himself. He was no longer a warlord bent on total conquest and domination of the lands. No longer an inuyoukai with superior breeding and impressive lineage. He was nothing more than the simple, consuming desire to see someone again.

The glowing orb blasted straight through the door to Ogoranko’s workshop. She shrieked and grabbed her scythe- but felt it be knocked aside seconds before a hand met her neck, grasping tight. Her head met the wall, grey hair flying around her as a harsh choke sounded out. She wriggled, trying to get free.

The light died down, causing her eyes to widen and narrow. “You are not one of my previous customers…what does the Lord of the West want with me?” She hissed.

“Where is the clay body you took from Inuyasha?” He uttered quietly, voice like the finest steel wrapped in velvet. A calm before the storm.

Her brows drew together in confusion. “I-if you wish to have a loved one returned to you, I can perform the spell-” his hand tightened.

“The body. Where is it?”

“Gah- ah! O-out the back!”

Sesshoumaru released her and sped outside in a blur of white. He moved around the back of the meagre house, heart dropping into the depths of his stomach.

A large, deep pit had been dug into the earth, opening wide and vast. Countless clay bodies had been dumped inside it like a mass grave. They were featureless, faceless, yet retained the arms, legs and the general shape of a human. Sesshoumaru stared down at their discarded forms.

A cough sounded out beside him, Ogoranko rubbing her throbbing neck. “They’re quite useless once they’ve been used one time. They can’t be reformed into clay or burned down. Only thing left to do is bury them. Urasue herself taught me the spell but my techniques aren’t quite as refined as my great master. I can fashion a new body for you though my Lord- ah…my Lord?” Red eyes widened with disbelief as he pushed off the edge of the pit, sailing down. “There is nothing down there,” she called after him.

Sesshoumaru ignored her.

Landing on a mound of bodies, he began filtering through the different scents left behind on the clay surfaces. Moving some puppets aside, he lifted a few out of the pile and discarded them, deaf to how they chipped or shattered. Pushing his sleeves up, Sesshoumaru worked with single-minded intent, skin becoming stained with dust as he dug both arms down through the piles, searching.

He began to pant. Panic erupted in his chest though he were in no danger. Sticky fear leaked into his body like tar. Where was she? Why couldn’t he…

The scent of salt caught his attention. Lifting his head, Sesshoumaru softly muttered to himself; “the beach.”

Ogoranko blinked, observing him. It wasn’t every day you witnessed a demon lord lose his mind, especially not one of his calibre. “Yes, the ocean is just south of here.”

Sesshoumaru looked at the bodies. Their heads were all facing forwards, staring up at the sky with blank, smooth faces of clay. His frayed attention slid over them, and he moved to another pile, catching sight of one head turned south just as a familiar scent caught his nose.

Reaching out, Sesshoumaru picked up the fragile body, lifting it into his arms. She looked exactly like the rest, no distinguishing features, save for her attention on the sea beyond.

“What happened when you reversed the spell on Inuyasha’s wife?” Sesshoumaru said faintly.

Ogoranko hummed, “I took her back here and then discarded her with the rest. Ah, did you favour her, my Lord?” Her voice dipped into suggestive tones. “I can resurrect her for a reasonable price. Say the word and I shall-”

“Now I see.” Sesshoumaru appeared next to her, gaze blank and removed. A thrill of warning rattled down the oni sorceresses spine at how perfectly calm and apathetic he appeared towards her existence. Like how one might view a candle they were about to extinguish. “You prey upon a creature’s grief and offer a solution. Something too good to be true,” chuckling in a deceptively gentle tone, he held the clay miko a little closer. “And if I gave her over to you, yes…you’d resurrect this body with a soul. But not hers. A random one. That is all you are capable of at your level.”

Organko quickly reached for the knife hidden in her obi, intent on striking it through his windpipe.

A hand impaled itself through her chest. Easily. So painfully easily he may as well have cleaved through butter. Choking, she cried out, staring into his merciless, wintery eyes, the likes of which she’d never seen in all her years of rifling through souls in the afterlife.

“Only a God can restore a soul to their rightful body,” Sesshoumaru uttered, rippling his hand free of her torso and shifting to hold the clay figure with both arms, walking away.

Ogoranko wailed and clutched fruitlessly at her wound, crumpling to her knees and bleeding out, never to rise again.

He took her to the beach.

Soft, pleasant oranges bathed the clay in a gentle glow. Sesshoumaru set the body down on the white sands, steeling himself. He then reached for Tenseiga with a bloodied hand.

Drawing the sword forth from its sheath, he inhaled the salty breeze, soothed when it combed silver hair back from his shoulders in a sweet caress. Tenseiga lay silent.

Frowning, Sesshoumaru gripped the hilt tighter. “You will do this thing for me and bring her back,” he uttered in a dark voice. “If my Father wielded you to resurrect life from a body that has recently been cut down, I will imbue you with my own will. Heed me well,” he fed youki into the blade, effectively mirroring Kagome’s imagery of running water. His burst forth like a geyser, forcing itself into the blade so quick the sword could barely contain it. “Find the soul of the one I seek.”

Tenseiga rattled, wishing to be free of him. Sesshoumaru held tight, threatening to break the sword in two.

Blue light burst forth from the blade, shining so bright it rivalled the setting sun. Sesshoumaru closed his eyes and tried to focus on Kagome’s fleeting scent on the clay.

“Kagome. Come.”

A faint, flickering presence could be felt, drawing just out of reach from Tenseiga’s light. It hesitated, worn thin.

Blood ran down Sesshoumaru’s torn wrist, landing on the blade. “I desire you to join my side,” he admitted in a hushed tone. “However, it is your choice. If you must live, do not live for anyone’s will but your own this time,” the words came to him like a quiet revelation.

He then struck the blade down over the clay body.

Tenseiga made a noise of distress, blue sparks bursting forth before the light sputtered and died, swallowed up by the sun.

Sesshoumaru tried to force the blade to awaken once more, but it remained silent. Nothing about the clay shifted.

Sliding the sword back into its sheath with more force than necessary, thin lips peeled back to show gritted teeth. “Useless,” he chastised the blade. Easier to think Tenseiga was to blame than to accept that Kagome…bright, beautiful Kagome- should refuse to live again.

Giving one last look at the clay figure, Sesshoumaru turned on his heel and padded away. He’d allow her to be taken by the sea she so adored, rather than dig a grave. His heart sat like a heavy stone within his chest. Every nerve ending shrieked, skin-crawling like it did not belong on his bones.

Crack.

Pointed ears twitched.

Crack.

More cracks joined the first, spilling out like spiders webs. The clay began to split, crumbling away like sand.

A woman sat up from the overcoat, coughing. Sesshoumaru stopped dead, turning back with disbelief. Golden eyes widened.

Broken clay fell from dark hair, catching in the curling, wild mane. Her tanned, bare skin caught the light of the sun. Frightened, wide blue eyes struck an unknown part of him right into his core. Sesshoumaru blurred through the air.

Strong hands caught her elbows as she tried to stand, the two kneeling together. Kagome sobbed as she bowed into him, wrapping trembling arms around his neck. Calloused palms, rough with years of swordplay, slid around her waist and dragged up her spine, bringing her into his warmth.

“I h-heard a voice, calling my name,” she said, voice tenuous and thin as she sobbed. “It was yours.”

“Hn, Ka-go-me,” Sesshoumaru’s lips peppered her soft hair, the shell of her ear, her wet cheek.

Giving a broken noise, she clung to his solid figure, blunt nails sinking hard into his back. He did not mind the sensation.

“S-say it again.”

Sesshoumaru ran his hands over her body, moving his mouth over her jaw. “Kagome.”

She shivered and bowed in on herself, hiccuping. They remained like that for some time, Sesshoumaru unused to the burning, open display of feelings yet having no choice but to weather the storm of emotion with her, both hers and his own.

Feeling a wet and sticky sensation down her back, Kagome pulled away to touch the area above his bleeding wrist. “Silly, you’re injured.”

“It is of little consequence.”

“Of course its of consequence,” she sighed, rubbing her cheek. Silence reigned between them for a moment, only broken by the gentle crash of waves on the rocks. The ebb and flow of the tide.

“…Why did you come back for me?”

Noticing the goosebumps racing over her flesh, Sesshoumaru curled mokomoko around her middle. Golden eyes flitted away towards the sunset. “This one dislikes waste.”

“Ah,” a quiet, fragile laugh escaped her. Gratitude welled up like an inflated bubble when he flicked the secures of his armour open and lifted it away from his chest, discarding it into the sand to land with a heavy thud. Pressing close with no barrier between them, Kagome tucked her knees up, sitting on his lap. Sesshoumaru’s trailing sleeves slid over her bare form, regal nose buried in her hair. “I don’t know why I even returned,” she mumbled. “I mean look at that. We’re on a beach at sunset. My one wish is fulfilled. I don’t really know what else to live for…just that I want to.”

“I find myself dissatisfied with my own wish these days. My desire for supreme conquest,” Sesshoumaru admitted, a sin, surely, for a warlord to feel no passion for the prospect of battle.

Kagome hummed, watching the waves. “Maybe it’s possible to simply move onto a new wish. Dreams and desires can change, can’t they?”

“Hn, we may yet find new ones to pursue.” Tired golden eyes slid down to her, catching the sunlight just as the great orb slipped beneath the horizon. “Together, foolish miko.”

Kagome lifted her head. She watched him for a moment, before pressing a long, firm kiss to his jaw. “I’d like that very much, Killing Perfection.”

Bowing his head to catch her soft lips with his own, Sesshoumaru cradled the back of her neck, curling long fingers within dark hair and silently adoring the way it tumbled wildly down her back.

The Demon Lord was not supposed to be a part of the man who married for love’s tale. And yet, like a bookend, the story ends with him on a beach.

Embracing the discarded woman.

End

#sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #Sesshoumaru #Kagome Higurashi

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asexual-hugger · 3 years

Conversation

*Allison is walking to her dorm through the Penderghast quad when someone calls out behind her*

Beckett: Allison! Wait up!

*She stops when she sees her boyfriend, Beckett Harrington, racing to catch up with her. He’s breathless and flushed*

Allison: No worries. I was just going back to my dorm. What’s up?

Beckett: Well, a lot, actually. My parents host this big party every year, and, well, it’s my birthday party tonight, and I wanted to invite you as my plus-one. It’ll be the perfect opportunity to announce our relationship publicly to my family.

Allison: Wait, what? Not that I don’t want to meet your family; I do, really. It’s just...are you sure you’re ready for that? We’ve barely started dating.

Beckett: I’m very sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. *his cheeks turn red* I love you, Allison McQueen. More than anyone I’ve ever met. I want to announce it openly. I want my parents to meet the amazing, beautiful, intelligent woman who caught my eye freshman year and never strayed from it. I want them to KNOW you, Allison, the way I do. You’re my girlfriend. Will you come to my birthday party? It would mean the world to me.

Allison: Of course I’ll come! Miss my boyfriend’s birthday? Not for anything! I just didn’t think you were ready.

Beckett: I might not have been, at first, but the more I see you, the more confident I feel. I need to do this, Allison. Since we became official at Penderghast, it’s now time we become official for my family. I want to announce it at the party. My parents are very traditional when it comes to parties. They go all out, and I mean literally all out. Most of their guests are elite top-of-the-line socialites, and having you there with me will make it ten times more tolerable. I don’t think I could take schmoozing with high society for hours on end without wanting to puke.

Allison: Well, then, consider me your high-society-schmoozing escape plan of a girlfriend. I’ll rescue you from any big bad socialites that try to chat you up. No fancy schmancy girls are gonna be kissing MY man. Although I’m afraid I don’t have anything fancy enough to wear in my closet. I’ve never been to a high society event before.

Beckett: That’s actually why I was hoping to run into you. I told Katrina that I wanted to invite you as my date, and she was extremely excited. She can’t wait to see you. I have an outfit custom-ordered that is just your size, if you’d like to wear it.

Allison: Why, Beckett Harrington; did you actually get me a dress???

Beckett: *flushes again and clears his throat nervously* Actually, it was both me and Katrina. She and I went shopping in Penn Square yesterday and I saw this dress in the window of the clothing store. I think it would really bring out your Sun-Att side. You’ll literally shine in it.

Allison: A Sun-Att dress that’ll turn heads at a classy rich people birthday party? I’m totally sold. Where is it? *Beckett pulls out a garment bag from behind his back and hands it to her, and she unzips it to find a shimmering gold dress inside, along with a matching mask with sparkling beads and sequins*

Beckett: I instantly thought of you when I pointed it out to Katrina. We both agree that this is the equivalent to satin sunlight, and can only see you wearing it.

Allison: There’s a mask here. Am I going in secret identity mode?

Beckett: I forgot to tell you; it’s a masquerade ball. Only my parents would think of something so top-notch. They want what’s best for their number one student at Penderghast University. *he tries to keep his voice level, but Allison can see the irritation in his eyes* To be honest, they’ve always gone out of their way every year to give me and Katrina these huge, elaborate birthday parties. I never wanted any of it, but talking back to my dad was like talking to a wall. The Harrington family is not easily swayed. When they make up their minds, they’re made up.

Allison: So I have to make sure I impress them. I’ll try to make sure my newly-found magick doesn’t get out of control. Maybe the mask WILL help with the secret identity.

Beckett: *taking her hands and squeezing them gently* Allison, no matter what, you’ll always be impressive. Don’t worry too much about that. I’ll do the talking. You just have to be yourself. Be that bright, gorgeous Sun-Att I fell for last year. If you wear the dress we got you, everything will speak for itself. I’m impressed by you. Katrina’s impressed by you. Our parents HAVE to be impressed with that fact in play. *gazes into her eyes with desire* Now go try on the dress. We have a party to attend.

Allison: Okay, okay. I’m going, I’m going. *laughs and kisses him softly, walking back to her dorm*

Beckett: I’ll come by and get you at 7. I’ll be wearing a suit with a black and gold mask.

*Allison waves and heads inside*

*An hour before Beckett is supposed to pick her up, Allison strolls into the common room with the gold dress and mask on, and her friends instantly go into stunned silence as they stop what they’re doing to stare at her*

Allison: Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just getting ready for my date.

Shreya: Did you just say ‘date?’ *she jumps off the couch and makes a beeline for Allison* I figured that was why you looked so radiant. Allison, you’re practically glowing!

Zeph: I agree. That’s a great look on you, Allison. Who’s the lucky guy?

Allison: Seriously? Beckett’s parents are hosting a big huge masquerade ball for his birthday tonight, and he invited me as his plus-one. Katrina’s going to be there, and Beckett’s going to make an official announcement that we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.

Shreya: *clapping her hands excitedly* Oh, my god, girl, you’ve GOT to give me the deets! My Instattuned followers are going to LOVE the gossip! I was wondering why you were wearing a mask. Here; let me take a picture before Beckett shows up to snatch you away! *Allison makes several poses as Shreya clicks her compact* Yassss, girl! SLAY!

Griffin: So wait. Beckett’s parents are hosting a birthday party for him? With masks and fancy clothes? Sounds big.

Zeph: Yeah. The Harrington name does have a reputation in the Attuned community. I’ve heard rumors that their family has connections with some very powerful and wealthy people in our world, but I never believed them to be true. If you ask me, getting tangled in with high society usually doesn’t end well, especially for the lower class.

Atlas: Lower class my ass. Allison’s a SUN-ATT. She’s got magick attuned with all the elements. If anyone can outsmart a bunch of stuffy rich kids, it’s my ever-loving ass-kicking twin sister. *she slings an arm over Allison’s shoulders and grins* You got this, sis. If Harrington or any of his socialite cronies give you trouble, you call on us and we’ll be there. Knights don’t go down without a fight!

Zeph: Hell, yeah! We’ll be your backup, Allison. Not to mention your recently-evolved familiar, Tim! I’m sure he’s just waiting to turn up the heat!

Allison: Awww, thanks, guys. You’re all the best friends a girl could ask for. It’s not true friendship unless it’s the power of Knights!

Griffin: Knights rock!

*A half-hour later, there’s a knock at the door*

Shreya: Sounds like someone’s DATE is here! I’ll get it! *she rushes to the door before Allison can say anything* Well, well, look at YOU all dressed up! You’re looking FINE! Hey, McQueen! There’s a suavely-dressed masked man at the door asking for you!

Allison: I’m coming! *she holds up the end of her dress as she walks, and through her mask she can just make out Beckett, wearing his classy blue suit and the black and gold mask he’d mentioned* Whoa! My boyfriend is turning up the HEAT!

Beckett: *staring with amazement at her, his jaw dropping* Allison! You look...I mean...you...wow. You look...breathtaking!

Allison: Has my outward appearance stolen all the air from your lungs, Mr. Harrington? You usually have a lot more to say. *smirking*

Beckett: *flushing and coughing nervously* Yes. Usually. Under normal circumstances. But seeing you, in that dress, I can’t even speak in complete sentences! *flustered* You’ve put a spell on me, Allison, and it’s not from your magick.

Allison: So I’ve reduced the great Beckett Harrington to stunned silence and scattered words. Consider me impressed. And by the way, the dress fits perfectly. I don’t know how you and Katrina managed.

Beckett: Well. Shall we then? *holds out his arm to her and she takes it willingly*

Zeph: Hey, Beckett! Make sure she has the time of her life and don’t let any snobby rich people take advantage of her! We want all the details when you two get back! We’re not letting our friends get taken down!

Beckett: I already know that, Zephyr. My intention was to take care of her the entire time. It’s my birthday, and my parents are going to meet my girlfriend. Believe me; if ANYONE says or does anything to her, I’ll be there.

*The trip to the party happens so quickly that Allison doesn’t have a chance to ask questions. Before she knows it, she’s stumbling back on to solid ground after hanging on to Beckett tightly*

Allison: What just happened? Did you use ward magick?

Beckett: *catches her quickly before she falls* It was a simple act of teleportation. I’m sorry it couldn’t be smoother; I’m afraid I’m rather rusty at conjuring the spell. It’s been awhile. Are you all right? *looks concerned*

Allison: I’m fine. Just a bit wobbly. My air-legs haven’t settled yet. *she looks around in awe at all the well-dressed people walking into the equally-awe-inspiring venue* This is your birthday party? It looks more like a royal ball. With the masquerade theme, of course.

Beckett: As I said before, my parents go all out for our parties. They want to make sure we get the best of the best. Our family name has huge importance out here. *he laces his fingers with hers and gazes at her adoringly, and she squeezes his hand* Ready?

Allison: As I’ll ever be. Let’s meet the fam.

*Classical music is playing inside, and important-looking Attuned are milling about. Even in the dress and mask, Allison starts to feel out of place. She scans the room with a nervous look. Beckett seems to sense her discomfort and grasps her hand tighter to silently remind her that he’s right there with her*

Woman: Ah! Beckett! Darling, you made it! Come on over and say hello to our friends! *a woman who can only be Mrs. Harrington takes Beckett’s arm and practically pulls him across the floor, not even acknowledging Allison*

Beckett: Mom! A warning would be nice...!?

Mrs. Harrington: Come on, birthday boy! You must meet the Meyer family! They just offered your father an excellent deal!

Beckett: Mom! I’m here with someone! *he manages to look apologetically back at Allison as he’s dragged away, and Allison loses the rest of the conversation*

Allison: I’ll just wait here. *she slowly moves away from the crowd along the back wall, observing the guests in their finest, masks disguising their faces. Her magick stirs within her, sending out uneasy auras around the room. Even with the coverings over their eyes, Allison gets bad vibes from many of the attendees, almost as if their cold gazes are judging her* I guess it’s good I wore this dress. At least I don’t feel like a complete standout. But why did Beckett’s mom totally ignore me? It’s like I didn’t even exist.

*She moves closer to where Beckett is standing with his mother, and even with a mask on, she can recognize Katrina, the older Harrington sibling and her current professor at Penderghast. The two are talking with an older gentleman, an unrecognizable red headed girl, and another man who is suspected to be Mr. Harrington*

Mr. Harrington: That is definitely a great offer, Milton. I’ll keep in touch. Have you met my son, Beckett? He’s the guest of honor tonight.

Mystery Man: Ah, yes, the young Harrington Junior. I hear it’s your birthday. How do you do?

Allison: [How do you do? Just when I thought this party couldn’t be any fancier; the formalities are too much!] *she can see that Beckett is fidgeting, clearly looking very uncomfortable*

Beckett: Yes, how do you do? It’s a pleasure to meet you. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I need to get back to.

Mrs. Harrington: Beckett, don’t be rude.

Beckett: I’m not... *Katrina quickly hisses at him*

Katrina: Is Allison here?

Beckett: Yes, she is. I brought her in and Mom completely ignored her! You should see her. She looks stunning in the dress we picked out. *his eyes start roving the room, looking around for her, and Katrina also appears to take notice* I left her standing near the entrance, alone. That’s why I need to get back to her.

Katrina: I can’t wait for your announcement! So you two are officially an item now?

Beckett: We are. I’ve been thinking about how to approach this, and I figured that my birthday party was the perfect place to break the news. I only hope Mom and Dad can see her the way I do.

Katrina: She has obviously changed you for the better, Bean. I’ve never seen you this happy like ever.

Beckett: She makes me happy. She has this effect on me; I don’t know exactly what it is, but whenever I’m in her presence, I just want to stare at her all day. Besides, she’s an amazing kisser.

Katrina: You two are adorable together. I’m secretly hoping that one day she’ll be my sister-in-law.

Mr. Harrington: What are you two discussing here?

Katrina: Oh, nothing. Just Beckett’s upcoming announcement. *she winks at her brother and he blushes*

Mr. Harrington: Oh, really? Well. I can’t wait to hear what my boy has to say. This is your night to shine, son.

Beckett: Yeah. No pressure, right? *Mr. Harrington glances over at his friend Milton, who gives him an affirming nod*

Mrs. Harrington: Everyone, may I have your attention, please? *her voice suddenly projects across the room, clearly a conjured spell, and the conversation dies down as all eyes center on her. She grips Beckett’s shoulder and pulls him close* Since this is my son Beckett’s birthday, we wish to thank all of you for being here to celebrate with us tonight!

Allison: Woohoo! Happy birthday, Beckett!

Mrs. Harrington: The guest of honor will take the floor momentarily to give his birthday speech, but first, his father and I have a special surprise. *excited murmurs break out, and Mrs. Harrington turns to the family* Miss Meyer, would you come over here?

*The unknown red headed girl steps over to Mrs. Harrington’s other side and looks out at the crowd*

Beckett: Mom? What’s going on? *he stares at his mother with utter confusion, and then his eyes fall on the girl*

Mrs. Harrington: *her hand not leaving his shoulder* For his birthday this year, we have decided to give Beckett an extra special gift, and it’s one that cannot be wrapped up in any magickal paper. On behalf of our family and by special permission from Milton Meyer of the Meyer-Freed fortune, we present Miss Ashley Meyer...Beckett’s new fiancée!

*For a second, there’s silence, and then the whole room breaks out in applause and cheers. The noise is so loud that it practically drowns out the gasps of horror and shock from the three people reeling from the news*

Beckett: What?!

Allison: What?!

Katrina: What?!

*Mrs. Harrington has just dropped an unexpected bombshell! Beckett’s birthday party has just become his engagement party...to a girl he doesn’t even know! What will this mean for his upcoming announcement...and Allison and Beckett’s relationship? Keep playing to find out!*

#choices stories you play #the elementalists #fanfic #pixelberry #choices game #play choices

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