#hey so I never want to draw a waterfall again?

[froggymarsh]

hi!! can i ask for #27 with empires joel or maybe life series bad boys, whichever u think fits the song better? :D

love this song :D it's in french so i'm going entirely off of vibes 😎👍

Joel always feels the smallest when he's walking next to Lizzie.

She towers above him- all blue scales and flowing pink hair like a waterfall down her back. Her tail swishes lightly behind them, almost inseparable to the trailing fabric of her dress. A webbed hand holds his as if he's something precious, and Joel can't help but feel so small.

He's been working on it with Jimmy. Being small around Jimmy is as easy as breathing, but being small around Lizzie is hard! What if she thinks he's weird? Or that he's weak and can't handle himself? Or what if she sees him have an accident?

He squeezes her hand and tries not to think about it. To his surprise, she squeezes back.

He tilts his head up. A cloud halos her head, glowing a lovely pink in the fading light of sunset. She smiles, and Joel's breath escapes him.

She's beautiful.

"Hi," he whispers.

She laughs, light and beautiful, like the kind of bell that would give an angel its wings. "Hello, Joel."

He's feeling brave. "Can I paint you?"

"Paint me?" Lizzie repeats as they step carefully into the Mezalean Matral Palace, nodding to terracotta guards and making their way up to where she knows Joel's bedroom is. "You can, Joel, but right now it's bedtime."

"Please?" he asks, a breath of a thing. He nearly trips over his own feet, eyes locked on Lizzie's. She catches him, looking down again, and he gives her his best puppy-dog eyes, "jus' fast before bed?"

Lizzie smiles, then sighs and reaches over to ruffle his hair.

"Fine. Just fast before bed."

He beams, grasping her hand in both of his and practically drags her all the way up to his room.

Once there, he releases her hand, ducks through the curtains that make up the door, and bounds across the room to the dresser that holds all of his chalk. He pulls it open, yanking a bit when it catches in the middle, and digs through it, pulling out all the blues and pinks that he can find and dumping them onto the floor.

"Oh, careful," Lizzie calls, "don't break all your chalk!"

"I won't!" he shouts back.

Once he's got all of them out, he turns, makes the front of his shirt a pouch, and scoops all of the chalk into it. Then he walks along the wall and finds a place that hasn't been drawn on- a spot in the middle of a small field of sunflowers. He thinks he was saving this spot for something else, but he doesn't remember anymore. It was probably supposed to be him and Lizzie.

He kneels down and dumps all his chalk on the floor again, whipping his head around to see where Lizzie is. She's laying pajamas out on the bed.

"'izzie!" he calls.

She looks up. He pats the spot on the floor next to him. She laughs and makes her way over, a towel draped over her arm.

"Sit sit sit," he says, patting the ground again. She crouches, and instead of sitting like he wants, she removes the crown from his head and fluffs out his hair. "Hey!"

"Just a minute, pumpkin," Lizzie leans down, kissing the top of his head, "I'm going to get everything ready for bedtime, and then I'll come sit, okay?"

Joel pouts.

"I promise," she shifts the crown into her other hand and extends a pinky. "Pinky promise."

He pouts more, but reluctantly wraps his pinky around hers and shakes it once.

She kisses his cheek. "I'll be right back."

He squirms away, giggling, and turns to the wall as she walks away. Before she can disappear, he gets a blue off the floor and starts with an outline.

He's drawn Lizzie a hundred million times before- usually in paintings of the ocean, or in her office, or high up in a tower, or flying through the air on a trident. Many of the drawings are hanging on his walls, in fact, or scribbled in the margins of his notebooks, doodled on the backs of napkins or on blank pages of old books, always careful, always detailed, never as breathtakingly beautiful as the real thing.

Joel grips the piece of chalk tight and vows to make this the best drawing he's ever done.

The chalk scrapes gently against the wall as he works. A bathtub fills in the other room. The wind chimes on his balcony sing, rocked by a gentle breeze. He adds himself next to her- sticks his tongue out between his teeth in concentration- squints at the wall, completely absorbed in his task.

He looks up at the swishing of skirts, and finds Lizzie carefully tracing her fingers along the shapes of sunflowers as she approaches.

"'izzie," he whispers.

Lizzie looks up. Her smile makes her eyes crinkle.

He pats the floor in front of his drawing, and she comes over, obediently kneeling down in front of it. He sits in her lap, pieces of chalk in both hands.

She wraps her arms around him, content.

Then, she gasps. "Is that us?"

Joel nods, trying to scoot forward while still staying on Lizzie's lap. She lifts him and shifts closer to help him reach.

"What are we doing?" Lizzie asks, the gentle tone of her voice warm and safe and wonderful.

"Dancing," Joel answers, finishing the brown on either side of the green stripe in his hair. Then he whispers, "do you like it?"

"I love it," Lizzie whispers back, "you're doing amazing."

And there they sit for an hour or so, listening to the quiet scraping of chalk on the walls and Lizzie's gentle questions. When Joel is properly covered in colorful streaks of chalk dust, his head drooping, Lizzie carefully removes the chalk from his hands and scoops him into her arms, kissing his forehead on the way to the bathtub.

He protests, but quickly settles in the warmth of the water, the flush of his face hidden by mountains of bubbles. After a bath, Lizzie carefully dries him off with a towel, helps him into brightly patterned pajamas, then tucks him into bed with another kiss to the forehead.

She slips across the room to gather up piles of chalk when he calls out to her.

"'izzie?"

She looks up, straightening her posture to meet his eyes, "yes?"

"You're nod'eaving?"

"Not yet, pumpkin," Lizzie answers, returning to her task, picking up three more bits of chalk, "I'm going to clean up first."

"Can you stay, p'ease?"

She pauses. Looks up again.

"For how long?"

"All night," he whispers, pleading, "p'ease?"

She smiles, "of course."

He beams, shifting to one side of the bed to make room.

"I'm going to finish cleaning up first, okay? I'll be there in just a little bit, love."

He nods, fast, and Lizzie returns yet again to her task.

She finishes quickly. Calls for a maid to retrieve one of her spare nightgowns, sings a lullaby to Joel while she waits. When it's brought she changes quickly and climbs into bed next to him, the curl of her tail reaching all the way around him, the tip of it pressing lightly on his back for only a moment.

He's barely awake now. She leans forward, kissing his forehead yet again. This time he doesn't open his eyes, letting out a gentle sigh.

"Love you, 'izzie," he murmurs.

She smiles, "love you too, Joel."

//

The morning brings embarrassment. She'd expect nothing less- he's always embarrassed after regressing.

He apologizes. She tells him he's cute. He blushes a lot, insisting he isn't cute, that he's never been cute, but Lizzie boops his nose and his words dissolve into meaningless fluff, and he buries his face in his hands and lets himself be scooped into a hug, pressed against her chest.

She can feel his heartbeat. She tucks him under her chin and hums.

They have to get up eventually. Lizzie has to go run a kingdom.

Before she does, Joel spots the drawings on the wall.

"What's this mess?" he asks, but the flush on his face suggests he remembers what happened, knows exactly what it was. Lizzie smiles.

"It's us," Lizzie answers, "we're dancing."

Joel smiles, his eyes full of nothing but fondness as he looks up at her. "So we are."

#joel tag #lizzie tag #empires agere #froggy drabbles #THINKS ABOUT THEM. WAAAUGH. #the themb. the belobeds. #started joel pov and ended lizzie pov i'm doin great /lh #might edit this and put it on ao3 later. thinks.

[another-blog-about-miis]

A side character magical girl comes and kills sam and Kyle's witches and kyubey appears at the moment the witches are defeated

Hey I'm just gonna do text because I have no idea how to drawing what I'm thinking would happen.

The Magical Girl jumps down from the platform and stares are Henry and Austin. "Are you two okay? You're lucking you didn't get killed by those witches!" The MG takes Sam and Kyle's grief seeds and puts them in her pocket.

Henry just stands there in shock, tears falling down like a waterfall. Sam, his child, the only person in the world he loved with all of his heart, is gone...

Austin puts his hand on Henry's shoulder and looks down at the floor seeing his tears drip down. "I don't think we'll ever be okay after this..."

After Austin spoke those words came Henry's loud sobs. Austin's expression and stance doesn't change.

"We're you close with those two before they became witches?" The MG's face has a slight frown. "They did know them, very well in fact! The witches you just killed were called Samantha Coleman and Kyle Sanders. You just killed this man's daughter and that other man's nephew. Oh well, It's happens to all magical girls!" Kyubey appears out of the shadows and walks up to the magical girl. Austin looks up and glares at the creature. Henry wipes his eye and blots towards Kyubey, picking them up and slamming them against the wall. "YOU KILLED MY CHILD YOU FUCKING MONSTER!" Henry throws them to the floor and stomps on it. "FUCKING DIE! YOU SELFISH GOD DAMN CAT!" The MG rushes over and pulls Henry back. "Sir please stop! Hurting Kyubey isn't going to bring her back, plus he can't really die anyways...." Henry's knees go weak, more tears start falling as he sits down. Shaking from the fear and sadness that washes over them. "You're such a selfish fuck! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO MAKE CHILDREN DO YOUR DIRTY WORK!? CAN'T YOU DO IT YOURSELF YOU LAZY FUCK!? Austin stomps over to the left and kicks the debris left over from the fight. Henry looks up to see Kyubey right in front of his face. He grabs him. "Can you grant me a wish...? Please I just want her back! I'll even do this shitty fighting against witches nonsense!" "You don't have the potential to become a magical boy! Plus it was Sam's wish to bring you and Austin back in the first place, so if you made a wish to bring her back it could mess some things up." Henry lowers his head again, lets go of Kyubey and sobs loudly. Austin throws a piece of a brick at Kyubey which they dodge. Austin walks towards Henry and pulls him up. "Let's go. There's nothing we can do to change this Henry..." He pulls his hand as the two of them walks out of the building.

The two went there separate ways and never spoke to each other again. When questioned on Sam and Kyle's disappearance they didn't say a word on what they saw. Who would believe them anyways?

#wii deleted you #wdy #wii deleted you sam #wdy sam #wii deleted you kyle #wii deleted you henry #magical girl #wii deleted you austin #wii deleted you au #magical girl au #pmmm au #fanfic

[beantothemax]

Looking at him now, that was not the man Olberic once loved. Erhardt's will to fight, will to see another day had all but dissappeared. He fought only to protect a desert town, half hoping to die in combat.

The Erhardt that Olberic knew and cherished fought to see a new dawn. He spoke of a bright future with stars in his eyes.

Perhaps that's what revenge did to him. The anger never abandoning him, only finding a man person to fall upon and destroy, even if it was himself.

"Draw your weapon, Erhardt! For warriors like us, there is no other way!"

Without a word, Erhardt followed the command. He held his sword high, staring at the man he still once loved.

It was strange how time changed you. He once wanted to abandon his quest for revenge to live with this man. Olberic was still his only chance to feel at peace, but now his definition of peace was different.

"Of course, let us fight!" he said.

The duel was short lived. Erhardt's grip on his blade loosened till the fifth time their swords clashed. It clattered to the ground and Olberic struck him in the chest.

As he fell the ground, he could only smile, satisfied that his life would be ended by the only man who had the right. He couldn't fall to a lizardman or mercenary, they did not matter. Only Olberic, the man he had hurt beyond repair, could end his life. Only Olberic deserved such satisfaction.

"So? Was it everything you wanted?" Erhardt smirked.

Olberic sat beside him and pushed the hair from his face. He caressed his cheek as tears welled up in his eyes.

"I wish things were different, I wish we could've spent our lives together," he cried.

"That'd be nice, we could have a house on the countryside and keep a farm. Just the two of us, no politics or war to seperate us," Erhardt agreed.

Blood stained his lips when he coughed. Olberic held him as tight as he could while he sobbed.

Why couldn't thing have been different? Why did they have to suffer when worse people still lived and thrived?

Erhardt coughed again before muttering, "when I said I dreamt of dying in your arms, I thought it'd be different."

Olberic could only cry as Erhardt laughed at his own unpleasant joke.

"I-I know."

"I'll see you soon, my love," Erhardt smiled.

My love. How wonderful it felt to be called that again.

The life left the traitor and his lover laid him on the ground. The color drained from his eyes as his body grew cold. And yet, Olberic couldn't let go of his hand. Not yet. He didn't want to.

But he did. The tears poured like a waterfall as he muttered endless messy apologies.

Through his tears, he spotted his sword on the ground. It still bore Erhardt's blood.

Soon, it would have his too.

a small collection of lines from this fic that make me want to crawl into a hole and scream

PIE I AM SHAKING YOU RAPIDLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!! GGGGGAAAHHHHH!!!!

I saw that it was an olberic fic and thought ‘hey how bad could it be?’ and then you plunge a dagger directly into my chest

olberic about how erhardt has lost all purpose in his life and how he half hopes that he dies protecting wellspring… the fact that erhardt fell so quickly, and how he’s happy that his life was ended by the sole man who had the right… their whole talk after the fight where..! where they talk about the peaceful life they could’ve had!!!!! pie I want to cry!!!!!!!!!!!!

OLBERIC SAYKNG AG THE END THT ERHARDT’S SWORD WILL SOON HAVE HIS BLOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE JUST WANTS TO BE WITH THE ONE MAN HE LOVES!!!!!! EVEN IF IT MEANS HE HAS TO DIE HE’LL DO ANYTHING TO BE WITH HIM!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAA

#asks #pie-knight #inbox fic

[toniawriting]

Stardew Valley Sebastian One Shot

I was making my way to Sebastian's house. I know that he is clearly not the kind of party person, but I did not plan any party. Have mercy, I just bought him a gift. A tiny one, he better not complain! Firstly, myself need some courage to even give him this present. Let's hope he will like it, with Seb I'm not really sure... Sebastian is an ordinary personality, he is not like others at his age. That's one of the reasons I like him so much. He is just different...I can't complain about his attitude because it's just him.

I've been thinking about how to tell him why I'm in his house. It would be weird to make an excuse, but I'm not sure, if I want to tell him the truth right away. Sebastian doesn't like gifts that much, maybe he doesn't like mine either.  I should be a little more confident about him, but it's hard. When you don't know if a person likes you, you're thinking everything trough. I just don't want him to think wrong of me. 

But hey, I need to give him this present now! Otherwise, I will never give it to him...My feet are bringing me to his door... Should I knock?I should... Okay, Bella, it's time to shine! The noise of my own knocking is making me nervous, possibly he isn't even home. 

»Come in! «, he answers. So... I'm not lucky, he is there, and now I need to go inside his room... What would he do, when I leave now? That's a good question, but I better not care about this right now. There is something more important to do... I'll open up his door, seeing him, sitting at his desk as usual. Potentially, he is doing something really significant right now. I should better not take long. 

»Hey, I came by to give you something... Are you busy right now? «, asking him. He looks up and sees me, smiling right away. That's a fantastic sign! »Sure, I'm not busy right now. Come here! «.  My feet take me to him, with the present in my hands. I'll hand him his present, his look is really confused.  

»What's this? «, he's asking.  »This is your birthday present, Sebastian. Happy Birthday, by the way! «, the words just came out like a waterfall. I was talking without even thinking what I was saying.  »That's really nice of you, Bella. But you shouldn't give me presents, you know really well that I don't like them.«.  I know what he means, but it still hurts a bit. Does he not want a present from me? I know that Abigail gave him a present, why shouldn't I give him one? Why I am not allowed?

»Don't you want my present?«.  He should recognize that I'm hurt about his words, or not? 

»That's not what I meant... «, he tries to explain. »Just, please, open it. Then you can complain, okay? «. I just want to get this situation to end. I don't want more reasons to myself in front of him.  Slowly he is unpacking the paper i but over the present. He sees a little model of his motorcycle and a block full of drawings. Over the time we've known each other, he's inspired me to start drawing again. It's been a long time since I've sketched something. His whole presence is full of inspiring things.

»What are these? «, he is asking. »To say it out loud, these are sketches I've done since I moved here... «.  It's really hard to talk about these kinds of things. My drawings were always something really private and finally showing somebody what I can do, is something I was afraid of. Now, it's not private anymore. At this moment someone, no... Not just someone, he is seeing my work. Sketches about his motorcycle, sketches about his room and the entire village. There is even one sketch from our Friday evenings in the saloon. 

»These drawings are beautiful, Bella...«. His words let my heart stop... What did he just say? Is he joking? Trying to let me think he likes my sketches? I can't figure it out... »Are you kidding me? «, I'm not sure how I should take his words. Should I be offended? Angry? Sad? Or even happy? I don't know... »No, I mean it! It's just so impossible that you show me these...«. He seems a bit confused... »I don't show you them, I give you them. It's a present and I don't want it back«, I answer.  »Thank you so much, Bella...! «, within a minute, he is standing before me and hugs me. I've never seen Sebastian actually hug anyone, and I'm glad it's me.  »You're welcome...«. I'm just mumbling, but I'm sure he heard what I said.  This day turned out to be really nice...!

#sebastian #stardew sebastian #oneshot #english

[solemn-siren]

Storm's Calamity: Chapter eight

Chapter eight: The amulet thief

Previous chapter: Seal the deal

A/N: With the PHB’s community creations theme for February being thievery and with the recent shenanigans in the last chapter, I have finally decided to write chapter eight! Hooray!

this also means chapter eight (and theoretically seven too) is my submission to February’s community creations! Maybe stay around because I might draw stuff from this chapter and submit that too. Who knows. (Edit: wrote this back at the start of February so maybe not anymore)

anyways as usual, enjoy,

(Please ignore all the typos I have somehow made, I am writing on a new iPad and I find the keyboard hard to use…)

My mind went back to the incident with the strange hooded figure in the forest.

I was frozen in fear, and my mind was racing. Future me would’ve given that hooded man a punch in the face and a good old lesson, but no. Past me was still new to the concept of standing up to bad guys. That or I was afraid of the knife.

Either way, I reluctantly handed the map to him. Lynx was freed, but since that day I questioned if that was the right thing to do. The map could’ve lead to a destructive weapon, or anything you don’t want someone to find.

Either way, that hooded man was a thief. A big bad thief.

And now that hooded thief was back.

—————————————————

Some people never change. Octavian was one of those people. He stole that map Lynx and I discovered years ago, and now he was possibly the thief behind the amulet too. I had every right to call him a thief.

“Didn’t expect some try hard action girl to be on the island.” Octavian muttered, staring at me and the dagger in my hand. “It’s very rude to call someone a thief when you first meet them, dodo scarer.”

“Hey stop acting like you have no idea what’s happening!” I shouted, reminding Octavian that I was holding a literal weapon in my hands. “Don’t you remember? Small girl and her friend found a map and you threatened to take that from us?”

“No.” He calmly answered. “And I don’t care.”

I rolled my eyes. Man he really is still a jerk. “I don’t have time for past thieves today.” I said, putting the dagger away “I got an end of a sweet deal to finish off and a different thief to find!”

“Were you looking for this?”

Octavian held out a necklace with a silver hammer charm. The one the Viking settlement was looking for.

I didn’t even hesitate to bring out my dagger again. “You thief! You’re the one who stole the amulet from the Vikings!” I shouted.

Octavian put the amulet around his neck, a sinister, thief like smirk on his face. “Oh you want to play hero and take it back do you?” He mocked. I hate it when adults just assume Kids can’t do certain things. “Then you’re gonna have to get it back, the hard way.”

With that, he bolted off towards the waterfalls. “Hey get back here!” I yelled, immediately chasing after him.

I considered having Merlin deliver a message to the rest of the team about Octavian and him being the amulet thief. However Merlin didn’t seem to be in the mood for flying because he was literally asleep on my shoulder. I forgot owls are nocturnal.

The sound of water falling from great heights and the mist from the falls alerted me about our whereabouts. The waterfall was beautiful and I would’ve stopped to appreciate it, if I wasn’t chasing a thief.

Octavian hopped across the stone outcrops that formed a path up to the top of the waterfall. Was he planning to make me jump off the waterfall to retrieve the amulet? I had no idea.

I continued following him, jumping onto the first rock. However I didn’t keep in mind the fact this was next to a waterfall, and wet rocks are one of the most slippery things an adventurer can face.

I slipped and fell into the river. ———————

I was glad it wasn’t solid ground down there, because that would’ve been my demise.

Climbing out of the river I sat down on the grass, soaking wet from the top of my head down to the tip of my boots. Merlin was flapping about wildly on the grass, the sudden plunge woke him up and he did not like it, because he was glaring at me before giving off a single “hoot”

“Sorry Merlin. But wet rocks are the worst.” I explained, putting the soaking wet brown fuzzy owl on my shoulder. “But dang it, we lost Octavian. That can’t be good.”

Merlin gave off a single hoot again. He did not care about Octavian but he did care about his wet feathers, and was flapping about to dry himself off.

“Hey were you going after Octavian?”

I look in the direction of the voice, thinking it was Alouette or Maverick. However it wasn’t.

staring at me were three kids, two boys and a girl, all younger than I was. One of the boys had blonde hair, the other boy and the girl had black hair. They didn’t look like they were from this island either.

“We’ve been going after Octavian too.” The blonde boy said. “If you’re also after him, maybe we could each other help out?”

#storm's calamity #poptropica #poptropica story #poptropica fanfiction

[ink-herrscher]

first snowfall

— herrscher of sentience x fu hua

genre : fluff

warnings : none

wordcount : 1,424

summary : hua won't look at senti. it's pretty much a declaration of war.

The sky is a beautiful cerulean hue beneath her fingertips. It looks as if close enough to touch, but her hand only grasps air when she tries, and the cotton-candy clouds that roll past laugh cheekily at her futile attempt.

Senti puffs her cheeks in annoyance, and huffs. Her hand falls back to the snow with a soft ‘thud.’

Hmm. It should be done by now.

Carefully, she picks herself up from the snow she had been laying on. It’s a delicate process, almost like doing surgery on someone, but eventually, she does manage to get up without disturbing the snow too much. She looks down, and marvels at her work proudly.

“Hey, old timer!” she calls out excitedly, bouncing on the soles of her feet. The snow angel she’s carved on the ground is as perfect as can be, and it’s so silly and childish, but she can’t help but feel satisfied that her first angel is just as pretty as her. “Come here, look at what I did!”

A delayed hum. “In a bit, xiǎo shí.”

Like a train losing steam and crashing in its tracks. Senti turns her head and burns a hole through her old timer’s head with her stare. But her back is turned to her, huddled by the side of the porch. Her hair drips like a waterfall down her pale cloak and bleeds grey ink into the snow. The tips of her ears are red from cold.

“Hey, old timer,” she says again, crossing her arms. Her wrists are cold where her gloves and jacket fail to meet.

“What is it?”

Her back is still turned to her. She’s fiddling with something in her hands, and the angle makes it hard to see, but it can’t be more important than Senti. That’s impossible. Besides, all she wants is for her to turn around – it’d take a second. Literally.

“Look at me.”

She just hums. Hums. Senti frowns.

“Old timer,” she draws out. It almost sounds like a whine, but her temper spikes with every crest of annoyance through her chest. “Hey.”

“Just . . . in a bit, xiǎo shí, okay?” she says again, and it sounds like an after-thought, a feather drifting slowly with the dust-snow. Senti huffs. What the hell is she so busy about, anyway?

“I’m going to steal Bronya’s Homu cake if you don’t look at me right now,” she threatens.

Hua just hums distantly again.

What the fuck.

“I’m going to steal a bank.”

No response this time. A lick of amusement seeps into the well of annoyance.

“I’m going to dye your chickens and sell them on the market again,” she tries again, and out of everything she’s said, this is where Hua draws the line. Her head turns up sharply and finally, she turns to face Senti. Her glare is harsh.

“No, you don’t – ”

A ball of snow cuts her words into a surprised yelp.

It’s quiet.

And then Senti bursts out laughing at her face.

She’s already gathering snow in her palms again, shaping it into a hard ball as she snickers at the shocked expression on Hua’s face. It’s comical, and she almost wishes she had a camera with her to take a picture. The old timer is rarely so surprised that it feels like she’s missing out on a funny story to share by not having this moment photographed.

“I told you to look at me,” she teases, and snorts at the deadpan look she receives. It’s both menacing and hilarious at the same time, and her red cheeks only add more to her cuteness. “You only have yourself to blame, old –”

Now, it’s her turn to be stunned. Her face is cold, and she feels as if she just dumped her head into a bowl of icy water. Numbly, she raises a hand to her cheek, and wipes away the falling bits of snow clinging to her lashes.

“Old timer, you –!”

When did she even make a snowball – oh, never-fucking-mind that. This is war.

“You’re paying for that!” she shrieks, and Hua, laughing, ducks down to avoid her attack. It falls miserably behind her shoulder, and Senti only manages to get a peek of a mischievous smile, before she finds herself with another faceful of snow.

It’s time to get serious.

But Hua is light on her feet, dancing across the battlefield like a fairy. As if everything is in slow motion for her: she dodges Senti’s snowballs with unmatched grace and manages to land every. Single. Hit.

She thinks she should feel irritated – no, she would definitely be irritated if it was someone else. But playing with the old timer, hearing her tinkling laughter through the sheets of snow and the adrenaline buzzing in her head; it feels like she’s on top of the world, high and tipsy with glee and a warm happiness filling her chest.

It goes on for a while. Her heart is pounding by the time their ruckus dies down a bit; Senti can’t even feel her hands anymore, but her cheeks feel warm and flushed.

“Xiǎo shí . . .” a breathless voice calls out. “Truce?”

Quiet. Senti tries to catch her breath. “Yeah, truce.”

Senti carefully peeks from behind her tree to find Hua out in the open, hands raised in surrender. For a while, she thinks about throwing one last snowball at her stupid, pretty face, but decides she kind of likes not being buried alive ten feet under the snow. She throws the snowball in her hand to the ground, and mimics Hua’s position as she steps forward to meet her.

She’s breathing hard, flushed bright and beaming, and it’s enough to wash away the remnants of her wounded ego into a springland wreathed with butterflies the color of her smile. Senti throws her arms around her neck, hard enough that they fall back to the snow. Hua chuckles, wrapping her arms around her back in return.

“You made me cold,” she grumbles, tucking her face against the crook of Hua’s neck. She shivers with every warm breath against sensitive skin, and a bit sadistically, Senti does it again, pressing her lips against her pulse in apology.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “But, please, stop selling my chickens already.”

Senti hums. “No promises.”

The air turns dark. “Xiǎo shí . . .”

She bursts out laughing again. It’s warmer now, within Hua’s embrace, and she can feel it even through the layers of soaked cloth. It’s comfortable with her, she thinks, whether they are in the middle of a snowy lawn or comfortably tucked beneath the sheets. Everything is complete only when the old timer is around to make everything better.

“All right, all right,” she gives in. “I promise not to sell your chickens again. Happy?”

Hua’s smile is all she needs as she presses their foreheads together. Hua tucks her hair behind her ear and presses a soft, wispy kiss at the edge of her lips.

“What were you so busy about, anyway?” she asks, and huffs. Her annoyance is completely gone now, but she pretends, anyway, if only to get Hua to kiss her lips again in a cute attempt to chase away her pout.

“I was making snowmen,” she says, and sighs. She glances to the side. “It’s destroyed now, though.”

“Snowmen?” Senti repeats. “Seriously? I got replaced by snowmen?”

“I’ve never tried to make one before,” she admits, and her tone is low, as if shy. “You looked like you were enjoying playing in the snow earlier, so I thought, maybe . . .”

Huh. Figures she never tried doing snowmen before, although, in that sense, Senti hasn’t tried making snowmen either. She stands up abruptly.

Hua stares at her. “Xiǎo shí? What’s wrong?”

“We’re making snowmen now,” she announces, and pulls Hua up to her feet, directing her wide eyes at her. “They’re going to be the cutest, most adorable snowmen ever made in the history of humankind!”

Hua blinks at her, and her sky-blue eyes crinkle into a soft smile. Her hands are cold, but they feel warm, intertwined with Senti’s. “All right. Let’s do our best, xiǎo shí.”

Senti pulls her to the spot where she was huddled over before, and belatedly realizes she’s stepping on the remnants of her snow angel. It’s ruined and messy now, the sharp outlines she shaped made hazy by their snow fight.

She sighs. Oh, well. One at a time. They have the whole winter to play in the snow and do all the things they haven’t done yet, after all.

#fu hua #herrscher of sentience #sentihua

[georgetheblob-art]

the queen emerges!!!👑🦋

this scene always makes me cry a whole bunch of baby tears...just seeing her come out and spread her wings while her song plays makes me so emotional........so this was a natural choice for a scene snippet redraw comic. I love Mothra so much....

MORE REDRAWS!

👑tag team VIBE CHECK

(and more coming soon ; 3 )

#*BREAKS DOWN THE DOOR* IT BEGINS!! THIS IS ONE OF F O U R #mothra #godzilla gijinka #kaiju #kaiju gijinka #godzilla #godzilla king of the monsters #godzilla kotm #godzilla fanart #godzilla comic #hey so I never want to draw a waterfall again? #but I'm super proud of how this turned out! gives me hope for the project as a whole #I definitely cried making this...multiple times.... #I love her SO MUCH #anyway I gotta take a big ol nap now I'm SO EXHAUSTED. #and then get started on coloring the next one.........yaaay #enjooooy #also yes I did remove all the people shots #I did that in all of my choices. I make the rules in this house #ALSO also my mothra is extremely based on the 1992 mothra #so like...having her represent pretty much all mothra incarnations is really funny #especially 2019 mothra. who looks nothing like 1992 mothra. #I was thinking about that the whole time with this and the others I'm doing

[indiee19]

Mad Sounds

Alex Turner x reader

Summary: Alex comes home late after recording and drives you wild for the night

warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving)

word count: 1895

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You heard a car come down the driveway, making you get out of bed. Alex was finally home. He had been at the studio with the band all day.

You were happy for him and that they were recording, you were, but that didn't mean that you didn't miss him. You quickly put on a pair of shorts so you didn't just have on a shirt and walked to the door.

When you got there, you saw Alex in his leather jacket, white button up, and his chelsea boots. God, did he look hot.

"Hey, baby," he said, pulling you in for a hug. He kissed the top of your head, pulling away from you. You didn't want to let go of him just yet, so you didn't let him go. "Are you alright, baby?" he asked, wrapping his arms back around you.

"Yes, I just ... missed you," you said, nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck. "I haven't even been gone for that long," he chuckled, pulling you closer.

"I know, but that doesn't mean that I don't miss you," you replied, kissing his neck lightly.

"Did you miss me or were you just horny?" he teased, making you look up at him, locking eyes with each other. He leaned in to kiss you,  grabbing your neck to keep you in place. The ache between your legs growing more prominent than before.

He pushed you so that you were against the wall, kissing down you neck, settling on your sweet spot, harshly sucking and nipping at it. Your hands found their way into his hair that was just now starting to grow back after he had shaved it, tugging on it lightly, eliciting a soft moan to fall from his mouth.

He pulled away, pulling your shirt off, hands going immediately to your breasts, rolling your nipple in between his fingers. Moans fell from your mouth like a waterfall, hands still tugging on his hair. One of his hands moved from your breasts to the hemline of your shorts, slipping past the waistband, teasing your clit through your underwear.

"A-Alex," you moaned, his hand so close yet so far from where you wanted him most. "What, baby?" he asked, rubbing light circles on your clit, driving you crazy. "Tell me what you want. Use your words."

"Please," you said, looking him in the eyes. "You want me fingers, that it?" he asked, slightly chuckling when you gladly nodded your head, your face lighting up. He pushed your underwear aside and started teasing your folds, spreading the wetness, teasing your clit. Whimpers fell from your mouth even though he was barely giving you what you needed and wanted most. Then, his fingers found their way to your entrance, teasing it like he had tone to your clit.

Without warning, he pushed two of his fingers into your cunt, pumping them in and out of you, setting a pace. You pulled on his hair again, a soft moan falling from his lips. As his fingers pumped in and out of you, he started kissing up your neck, sucking on your sweet spot again.

Alex's thumb had found your clit by now, rubbing circles on it in rhythm with his fingers, causing more moans to fall from your lips. "Alex, f-faster, please," you said. Though you couldn't see, you could practically feel that he was smirking against your neck. He started to pump his fingers into you faster as you had asked, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit harsher and faster.

"A-Alex, I'm so c-close," you whimpered, moaning loudly when he pressed down on your clit. "Let go for me. Come all on me fingers, love," he said nonchalantly.

He moved from your neck to your lips, kissing you deeply and passionately, biting your bottom lip, demanding for you to let him in. You cooraperated, allowing him entrance. His tongue teasing with yours, exploring your mouth for what felt like the hundredth time.

Then all of a sudden, he pressed down harshly on your clit and curled his fingers deep inside of you, sending you spiraling. You moaned into his mouth, pulling on his hair. Your walls contracted around his fingers, drawing them in, riding out your high.

As you came down from your high, Alex removed his fingers from your cunt, you whimpered at the emptiness. He grabbed the back of your thighs signaling for you to jump and you complied. He carried you down the hall to your bedroom, placing you down on the bed, crawling over you.

"You're so pretty," he said, kissing your lips, jaw, neck, and each of your breasts. He sat up, straddling you, pulling down your shorts. He kissed your clit over your panties. "Please, don't tease," you breathed out, his face so close to where you desperately needed him.

He chuckled before practically ripping your panties off of you. "Alex, those were my favorite," you squealed, laughing as he lifted up one of your legs to sit on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, love, I'll buy you another pair," Alex drawled, kissing up the inside of your thigh, using his hands to keep them spread apart for him to be able to stick his head in between them. "God, you're so wet, baby. All for me?" he asked once he got just below your core.

"Y-yes, all for you, Alexander," you answered, your voice trailing off into a moan as he kissed your clit. His tongue lapping at your folds, pressing down on your clit.

Alex moved his tongue down to your cunt, sticking inside you teasingly, you moaned in response. He knew exactly how to use his tongue to drive you wild. His tongue teasing your cunt that he knew so well from years of fucking it, whether it be by his cock, fingers, mouth, or tongue.

He removed his tongue from you, replacing it with two of his fingers. Kissing your clit again, his tongue lapped at your folds again, while his fingers began to pump in and out of you. Alex started to lightly suck on your clit, you moaned in response, signaling to him that it felt amazing. Your hips jolted up automatically after he curled his fingers inside of you.

One of his hands moved from your thighs to your hips to keep you down. He repeated the motion with his fingers, groaning against your skin when your hips lifted up off the bed again, sitting up, looking at you with dark eyes.

Your eyes opened as his fingers had stopped moving. "W-what?" you asked, your eyes locking with Alex's.

"Relax for me, baby. Can you do that?" he said, eyes never leaving yours, blowing on your heat. You nodded in response, asking him to continue. His fingers began to pumping in you again, his mouth going back to your clit. This drove you crazy, you loved the way that his tongue pressed on your clit and the way he kissed it, he knew how make you feel so good.

Your moans filled the room, your hands finding their way into his hair, tugging on it, a soft moan leaving his lips, sending vibrations up your body. He took his fingers away from your cunt, placing his mouth there instead. His nose brushing against your clit accasionly, then once more, which sent you spiraling.

After your high, he put his fingers pack in your cunt, mouth going back to your clit. Though you did miss the feeling of his nose against it. He quick to get to work again, never letting you get used to a sensation. One second he would be sucking on your clit, the next he would be lapping at your folds with his tongue and pressing down on your clit.

All he cared about at the moment was getting you there again, your orgasm gradually building up again. "Alex, I-I'm s-so close," you whimpered, pulling on his hair once again. He hummed in response. His fingers pumped in and out of you, the phase increasing more and more. Then, all of a sudden, he curled his fingers deep inside of you, hitting that spot that made you see stars, his tongue pressing down harshly on your clit, which tipped you over the edge.

As you came down from your high, Alex removed his fingers from you, leaving you an empty, wet mess. "You look so beautiful, love," he said, crawling over you, lightly kissing your lips. You were panting heavily, having just come twice in a row.

You unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off of his shoulders, throwing it on the floor. You ran your hands up his toned chest. Alex shuffled so that he could take off his trousers, leaving him in just his boxers, hard.

You palmed him through the boxers, he groaned, head falling down on your shoulder, placing kisses on it. "Need to. . . .need to be inside you, love," he drawled, pushing away your hand. He took off his underwear, throwing them to the floor. His tip was a reddish-purple and he gave his cock a few pumps before lining himself up with your entrance.

His hips jolted forward, filing you up, allowing you to adjust to his size. Your walls contracted around him, accomendating to his size. You signaled for him to move, he pulled almost all the way out just to slam back into you.

You gripped onto his biceps as he mercilessly pounded into you. Moans fell from each of your mouths, that being the only thing you could hear. His hips slammed into yours repeatedly, surely to leave a bruise the next morning. He started to place kisses on your neck, settling on your sweet spot.

Your hands found their way back into his hair, pulling on it, moaning loudly. "Fuck, baby, fuck, faster," you moaned, pulling his hair so that he was looking directly at you. He followed the request, going faster and harder, your orgasm building up for a third time. One of his hands moved from beside your head to rub circles on your clit.

"Alexander, I'm so close," you whimpered. "I know, me too," he replied, somehow going even faster than before. You loved whenever he was like this, when he would make you come undone for him with his mouth before finally filling you up with high cock.

He kept pounding into, a flick of your clit all you needed to push you over the edge for a third and final time. Your rerelease triggering Alex's. Your walls contracted around his cock, drawing him in, squeezing him as he stilled, his hot release coating your walls. He collapsed on top of you after you came down for both of your highs, both of you panting heavily.

"I love you so much, baby," he said, kissing your lips before pulling out and laying down beside you. "I love you too," you answered, cuddling up to his side, his arm wrapping around you.

"Alex, we have a problem," you stated after a few minutes of silence. He looked at you confused before you laughed, "I can't feel my legs."

"That means I fucked you good," he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. "You always do," you replied, laying there in silence, just the two of you snuggling.

#alex turner #alex turner arctic monkeys #alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #fanfiction #smut #alex turner imagine #arctic monkeys #jamie cook #matt helders #nick o’malley #mad sounds #am album #hedgehog Alex

[txciaz]

here I am again!! with chapter 2!!

( chapter 1 in case anyone missed it )

chapter 2: things are changing

word count: ~4,8k

——————

You were almost asleep, the waterfall sounds never failed to calm your soul, the distant symphony nature conceived you always following you throughout the day. Your stay at the Beneviento's state has been satisfactorily peaceful, your routine consisted of watching over Miss Beneviento and Miss Angie, administrate the house and cook for them; although you heard many legends and myths about the veiled woman, they all proved themselves wrong, Donna Beneviento was not a merciless sickening creature and Angie is not a disturbing – well, that's up to debate – maniac doll. They were kind, lovely, graceful, even. Energetic and serene, enthusiastic and gentle, intense yet lethargic; yes, those were Donna and Angie, opposites — The sun and the moon.

“Human! Donna requires your assistance!”

Ah, speaking of energetic. Angie hops through the garden to meet you sitting on a pile of soft snow, facing the waterfall, pleasantly starting the day.

“Donna needs someone to help with the fabric! Hey, are you hearing me?!” The doll pokes your right arm repeatedly, forcefully drawing your attention to her – if she had eyebrows, you can be certain they'd be very frowned now.

“Ah, yes, Miss Angie, I'm hearing you! I apologize for not responding at first” You support your hand on your thigh as you stand up, patting away any flakes on your work pants.

“Hm! I shall forgive you this time, human. But I won't have mercy next time!” It's the fourth time she says this. You play along, bowing to her as if she's the queen of the castle; her hands go to her hips, eyes closed, taking in the adoration you give her, silly little doll, if she only knew how she brightens up your day with only a few simple mannerisms.

You enter the house accompanied by Angie, the cozy ambiance greets you on a warm hug, contrasting the cold weather outside; the fireplace burns leisurely, the dancing flames sounds creating a piece of background music for this lovely morning. There's a certain smell in the air... Ah, chamomile tea and fresh chocolate and cinnamon cake, Donna's favorites – she must be in a good mood today – although you weren't expecting your lady to be baking, you were not going to complain, either.

“I thought you needed help with sewing, Miss Beneviento?” In a jump, she turns around, she must've not heard you coming in;

She lets out a long hum, probably calculating her next words “I did... Not... I apologize.”

You give her a reassuring smile and say there was no problem; the moment you were about to make your way out of the kitchen, a quiet 'Wait!' that was barely said out loud filled the air. “Perhaps... You would want to have some tea?”

The veiled woman sounded hesitant, yet full of determination... And honestly, how could you ever say no? Not just because the cake looks delicious, but because you know Donna made all this effort for you – she would never eat a whole cake by herself, she barely bakes anything since you came around... and did she ask Angie to come up with an excuse for you to get inside? – So it would not only be rude but also be very inconsiderate of you to refuse her request.

“I'd love to,” You say without hesitation.

All of the tension on the woman's shoulders went away, a relieved sigh left her lips as she settles the tea kettle on the table along with delicate ceramic cups – they were beautiful, elegant blue roses were painted along with the whole structure, a true artist's work – Oh, the cake looks divine, you cut a small piece for yourself, getting a small grunt of disapproval from Donna, who puts a larger piece on your plate - you return the favor, cutting a big piece for her as well - you both chuckle, it was moments like this that made you grateful for having her in your life. A lovely company, a thoughtful friend... You cherish each other, you know your place in her heart, and she knows hers in yours as well.

“Are you having a tea party without me?! The nerve!!” Angie stomps her way to the kitchen table, climbing on her high chair and facing you both on – what you believe is – disbelief;

“Oh please, Angie,” your lady says in a breathy response. She has lifted her veil to eat now, even though you've been here for several months and have seen Donna's face multiple times, you understand what her veil means to her and never once asked her to take it off; she's wearing it today because she's nervous – that explains the tea – Today the lords are having a meeting called by Mother Miranda herself to discuss 'village business'... You've been around long enough to know what they talk about in there; Beneviento never feels much thrilled to meet with her 'siblings'... And from what she says, you wouldn't be either! Imagine a 9'6 feet tall lady yelling at the robot man while a fish guy wants to participate in everything... You wonder what Miranda was thinking when she got them.

“Hey!! I'm talking!” The doll snapped you out of your thoughts about the soon event, making Donna giggle at your confused 'huh?'; she even finished her piece of cake already, for how long have they let you drift away?

“My apologies, I was quite distracted” Donna frowns her eyebrows for a microsecond, but decides not to say anything.

“Y’know, Donna was thinking of visiting the big lady this weekend” – Miss Angie rests her little chin on her hands, facing you.

“Oh, that's nice of you, I'm sure the girls are missing you two” You answer without putting much thought to it, as you take the fork with cake to your mouth.

Angie sighs comically loud, what made you look at her with a questioning look “Are you that dumb?? Donna is asking ya to come with us! Gosh!” ...Oh.

Oh

Donna wants you to go? That's– That's new. You're just a maid, you don't belong in the family visits... But now Donna is asking you to go. You feel your cheeks grow rosier as you almost choke on your fork – how embarrassing – “Ah, of course I will accompany you! Thank you for being kind enough to allow me to go, Donna”

She smiles, and that's when you smiled too, a peek of her face is all you need to go through your busy week - her serene expressions, the sweet sound of the giggles you steal from her, the way her nose scrunches when she's concentrated - you could spend the whole day listing every bit of her you wish you could frame and save from time's merciless tricks, but for now, her smile is all you want to focus on.

“Please, you're family.” The woman sounded so certain of what she just said, her voice was so filled with love you could almost grab it and keep it in your heart. You're family... that's how important you are to her now. Things are changing.

A few hours go by, the weather is significantly warmer outside, but still cold; the sky is bright grey, little snowflakes descending to meet the fresh layer of snow on the ground. Donna is putting on her veil and adjusting her doll's dress, the meeting will start soon; Lord Heisenberg will pick the girls up, take them there and bring them home safely, in return, you will go to his factory once a week to deliver some desserts and sweets and do him some company — he's a funny man... You worry about him sometimes, but he's not that bad, after all.

“Please take care, put on more clothes, and have the rest of the tea” Donna's left hand touches your shoulder while her right arm holds Angie close to her chest; you are all by the door, you're holding it open for them.

“Don’t worry my Lady, I will take care.” You give her a courtesy bow, receiving a light giggle as a response – the doll rolls her eyes and kicks her feet frenetically, telling Donna off for taking so long to get in Heisenberg's exquisite carriage. You wave at the man from afar, who lowers his hat a bit, his nice way of greeting you. The metal horses neigh and take off, the wagon disappearing into the horizon.

xxx

Angie's excited rambling saturates the once calm atmosphere of the house, Karl just dropped them off, coming to the door with them.

“Here they are, kid, no scratches.” He puts a cigar on his mouth and looks into the house through his dark glasses, taking in the ambiance.

“Why, thank you, Lord Heisenberg – ”

“Tsk. Cut the ‘Lord’ shit, just call me Karl.” He interrupted you, although he sounded annoyed, you knew he was befriending you “You’re basically family, no? We all know how Donna cares for you – honestly, it's annoying.”

“I- I’m sorry, what did you mean by that?” The man laughs at your rosy cheeks and stutters, waving his hand, he takes a drag of the cigar, walking to his carriage “I’ll be waiting for cookies, girl”.

You wave back, closing the door and looking at the living room, where your ladies are making themselves comfortable.

“You won't believe what happened today!! The bird lady gave us a baby!”

“Oh– Oh no, Angie– Miranda gave us a flask to take care of..”

“A baby!”

“...A flask”

“A baby in the flask!” – Donna sighs in defeat, rubbing her temples. Angie points to a square yellow flask on top of a ceramic counter, there's a label on it, you come closer to read it.. ‘Legs’.

...Legs? It can’t be actual – Oh, you're starting to feel sick. “Um... Donna...?'' You hesitantly look at the woman, who sighs heavily and lifts her veil, her expression says it all; her eyebrows frowned upwards, lips sealed and her eyes have a disappointed tint to it. She slowly nods, her gaze going from you to ‘Mother Miranda's gift’.

“I understand if you want me to put it away in the basement.” She's willing to do it for you? No, she's your lady, you should do it.

“I suppose I should–” Once again you are interrupted, this time by the eager doll, who jumps in your arms with the flask on her hands – When did she get it? How did you not see her? – “I hope Ethan won’t try to take it back!” Your head tilts to the side, a silent question to both of the girls.

“Ahem... Ethan is... Rose's father... And Rose is, well...” – Oh, heavens. – “Mother captured him and Heisenberg made him go through a ..‘death maze’..” Donna's fingers go up and down on a quotation mark sign.

“But he ran away!!” — A dense silence fell onto the room, the atmosphere suddenly grew uncomfortable, at least for you.

“Are you alrighty?” Angie turns to face you, her eyes traveling your whole face, your expression is blank now; what the hell was going on? This is all too much to take in at once.

“Is he dangerous?” That was the only thing you managed to say among so many questions you wanted to ask Donna.

“Well... He did escape Heisenberg's plan...” Then he is, that's what she's saying.

“How long ago was that?”

“The escape? two hours or so! We stayed there with Heisenberg trying to find out what he did wrong, dumb metal man...” You hum, your semblance should look horribly tense, because the next thing you remember was Donna's hand being so lightly placed on your left arm as if you were a shattered porcelain doll about to break with any rougher contact.

“Miss Angie, would you mind giving us a moment to speak in private?” – You lower the doll and take the flask from her hands.

“Ya know Donna and I are connected, right?” The smaller girl was quickly taken out of the room by her master — and you swear you heard a quiet ‘shoo, shoo’. The lady of the house now stands in front of you, a concerned look on her face, matching yours.

“Miss Donna, I'm worried about this whole situation... Maybe we should be careful. Do you understand what I mean?”

“I am afraid I do...” She looked nervous, her fingers fidgeting and interlocking with themselves; there's silence for a long moment, both of you meticulously measuring your next words, surprisingly, Donna is the first to speak; with a heavy sigh, she stands up straighter.

“If anything happens, you must go to the castle, please.”

“But my lady—”

“Alcina will know what to do, that man won't get past her state, her girls are probably hunting him now – if they haven't found him already. Still, if something happens to me or Angie, you know who to ask for help, okay?” — You nod — “Promise me, please.”

“...I promise.”

How you were going to regret this later.

She shyly smiles with the corners of her mouth as you take her hands in yours, your way of saying ‘everything will be alright’. The woman opened her mouth to say something, but her words died in the air, her sudden frozen reaction sent chills down your spine – what's happening? – she looks straight at the door, her semblance growing more and more despairing.

“Miss Beneviento?”

...

“My lady?”

...

“Donna?!”

Her gaze hesitantly made its way from the door and fell upon you, her hands are slightly shaking – is she starting to hyperventilate? – she tried to speak, but not even a whisper was heard. After a few tries, her shaky and breathy voice met your ears – “He’s here.”

You are petrified, the grip your hands have on hers grows tighter, what does she mean, he's here? He can't be here. That would mean getting past House Dimitrescu and the only way someone could do that is by k—

Oh no...

You can tell that is exactly what Donna is thinking about as tears threaten to fall from her glossy eyes. Lady Dimitrescu can't be... dead... can she? What about her daughters? Oh, poor things...

“You must go.” Your lady's voice got your attention again, her trembling tone barely allowing her to properly speak, so she led you by the hand to a room with aid kits and hand-made medicines; she handed you a bag containing some of it and pointed to the door.

...Is... Is this how she is going to send you off?... Not even a ‘goodbye’, or a handshake, at the very least? Your eyebrows frown and your lips part open, you hold the bag against your chest closer to you. “...My lady..?” Now your voice is trembling as well. She avoids your gaze, standing firmly at the same spot.

She calls Angie, who floats towards you, pushing you through the house to the front door. “I’m sorry, but ya promised.”

She and the other dolls corner you at the door, your back meeting the hardwood board; you can hear your heart shattering as you're being so abruptly banished from the house.

“You can't even say something?! After all we've been through? Is this really how you want to send me away?!... Please, Donna.”

After overlong minutes of deafening silence and a torturing lack of response, you see a now veiled figure stand in front of you, a few meters away; her hands are by her sides, fidgeting with her dress' cloth, her head hangs low, her gaze meeting the floor.

“I didn't know how to...” she murmured.

You feel warm tears wet your eyes as you walk confident steps toward the woman you care so much for – you leave the carrier on the floor – your arms are wide open, embracing her as you bury your face in the crook of her neck; some seconds pass by before her own hands go up to your back and grab your clothes — she's crying on your shoulder and she's soaking it, but you don't care because you're also damping her dress. What felt like an eternity as you were hugging went by too fast, you gradually drift away from each other's embrace, slowly picking up the bag and snuffling, you know you can't stay there; if there's any chance of Donna surviving this, it depends on you.

You hug Angie one last time, the other dolls gather around you and their little arms do their best trying to hold you too, how you loved Donna's marvelous inventions. They all follow you to the back door – where you would try not to cross paths with Ethan – You grab the bag tight, you're leaving.

“I will come back.” You smile as a reassurance, hesitantly going through the door and closing it, you breathe in sharply – can't stop now.

Donna watches you say your last words to her and smiles morosely, waving at the closed-door – “Please don't...”

You were almost crossing the bridge to leave Beneviento's state, everything was going fine, the man didn't seem to show up... Maybe Donna was just mistaken and everything is alright.

— But like a shot, Angie's maniac laughter gets to your ears and smashes any kind of hope you had of Ethan ignoring their house. You hold yourself, Angie's threats can be heard from here; you know Donna won't be able to hold him for much longer, you must be faster.

xxxx

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

You're here. You're finally here. But what the hell happened here?

The chilly air makes your lips tremble a bit, your arms instantly hugging yourself; walking here was no easy task, but that's none of your concern anymore. You go through one of the castle's demolished walls, you look up, there's a hole in the roof and the levels above, just beneath it there's a... carcass of God knows what, although it looks like a rotting dragon. — Oh God, did it kill Lady Dimitrescu?.. Or perhaps she killed it?

You keep marching carefully yet hurriedly; you find the doors open and the handles smeared with blood, feeling apprehensiveness tightening your chest, you make your way inside of the castle. You look around and process the ambiance, the unexpected warm atmosphere of the house falls upon you like a blanket, but the comfortable feeling disappears the moment you see blood splashed all over the walls, corpses of lycans and monsters ripen in half and splayed on the floor... A crimson path marks its way through the rooms, and maybe you should follow it.

“Lady Dimitrescu?”

As you follow the sanguine liquid trail, you spot a huge stiff figure laying on the floor, covered in wounds and painted scarlet red. You rush to help her, not even certain if she was still alive.

“My lady!”

She grunts, a surprisingly low growl leaves her lips as she sits up, holding onto a cloth around her body for dear life, you walk closer to her slowly and steadily, but her cry of pain as she holds a wound on her side makes you run to her – how it pains you to see someone like this. Yet, you take quick steps back and almost freeze in place when she unleashes her terrorizing long and sharp claws, why is she doing this? You're trying to help, and she needs it.

You bring your hand to your chest, not because you're afraid, but because you feel your heart beating so fast it might explode. – “Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

“Out.”

Her voice was like a rumble of thunder and it reverberated through your whole body, giving you goosebumps; for a moment, all you could do was obey and step away, your gaze still fixated on her, but something clicked in your mind — you made a promise.

You can see a clear change in the woman's expression as you stand your ground.

“Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

You can't go, even though you truly want to, you want to go back to your Misses, you want to run away from this woman who might behead you any instant, you want to leave; all this flashes in your mind as you look at the big main doors. You grab the clothes on your chest with an absurd strength, come on, you need to be brave now. You sigh, Donna has no idea of the impact she has on your life.

“Allow me to help.” You try to sound certain, but the thought of Donna and Angie invades your mind and brings you to the verge of tears again.

Feet taking more steps closer to the Lady, you can't look at her, not like this, almost crying, that'd be pathetic.

Although it seemed impossible, her nails grew longer and her eyes were intensely trying to burn holes in your head, she is indeed terrifying, but you must not fear her now, you trust Donna, she said Alcina would help. You move your arms to the front of your body as a peace sign, you don't want to cause any harm. Still, she shows her teeth and looks at you with a feral cast, like a beast ready to devour its prey. You gulp, just a few more steps and—

An unhesitating metal swing sound cuts through the air; you scream, you shout at the top of your lungs as you feel her cold claws rip your face and throw you away with much force. Hot blood squirts and spills from your face and chest — you can't make a noise anymore, your lips are parted, mouth open, searching for the air you suddenly don't have anymore, your hands go to your face, trying to figure out either to press your wounds or hide it from the woman. You spend some more moments in anguish, trying to find your voice, but not even a whisper would make its way out; you were struggling to open your left eye, it hurts so much, everything hurts, burns, aches — pain washes over you and adrenaline runs fast in your veins. A raspy and agonizing scream builds up in your chest and leaves your throat way louder than you expected, getting the Lady's attention. Good.

Stupid loyalty, foolish attachment, cursed be all the fondness in your heart that is making you do this. You need to do this, don't forget why you're here. Your shaky hands reach for your bag, pulling out a flask of treatment disinfectant, you assemble your last strengths to crawl your way to her and kneel up, stretching the hand with the flask out; you can't stay like this for long, your body is giving up on you – the moment she takes the medicine, you collapse right in front of her, not even caring about being safe or not.

xxxx

It's dark. Cold. Unbelievably silent. You’re alone now, only you and the abandoned hopes that still wander above your head, both yours and hers — speaking of her, where is Lady Dimitrescu? You need her help. but as it seems, you must aid her first — You breathe stiffly and out of tempo, your clothes and hair are drenched, and your face has a bit of crust on it, probably dry blood.

Elbows up first, then shoulders, push your back up and now you’re on your hands and knees, still facing the floor; it all still hurts, your body aches from being so brutally tossed at the floor. You can’t move nor feel your face — not much of a good sign — Your left eye is locked shut, God knows what will happen if you try to open it. Your vision is blurry and dark, as if it’s dirty, which makes sense if you consider all the blood in your face; you cannot see well and… Perhaps, your left eye might go blind... — let’s pray it doesn’t turn that way.

From a pool of blood underneath you, there's your reflected image, you make some effort to see the damage that woman did to you: three big claw marks cuts through your face, one striked your lips, cutting up at a point you can see part of your gum, the other is right in the center, it striked the bridge of your nose and your left eye, and the last one got the side of your forehead and a bit of your hairline. Well… Let’s focus on the not so bad things for now.— At least your body and hair are fairly fine.

A small drop that hits the pool’s liquid and creates small scarlet waves makes you notice you have been crying during this whole process, tears washing over your wounds and making them sting, only to find their way into the crimson beneath you. You take your time at this position, everything is so quiet, so peaceful, the wind and the birds chirping try to fill in the devastating mourning and obscure silence of the castle — they don’t succeed.

… Now, thinking about it, you don’t want to keep facing your — shattered and ruined — reflection, so you heavily exchange your weight to your legs, sitting on your knees.

Air escapes your lungs for a millisecond as your gaze meets the lady of the house — was she watching you the entire time? How did you not notice her? Heard her? — She’s standing away from you, almost hiding in the shadows; at some point of your unconsciousness, she must have gone to her chambers since she got rid of those bloody sheets that wrapped her and is now wearing a proper robe that cascades to the floor.

Neither of you dares to break eye contact — an unspoken dialogue — Alcina has a dreadful look on her eyes as if she’ll murder you right this instant; now that you realize, she’s clean, although her hand still presses the injury on her side, it must be a severe one, as she looks healed from all the others. You decide to stand on your feet, your shaky legs not collaborating; your body is still limp, your joints hurt and there’s this constant pain in your lungs as you breathe, however, you keep your gaze locked with hers. The moment you opened your mouth to speak, she abruptly interrupted you.

“I shall give you one chance. Who are you and what are you doing at my house?”

Her words were like a knife and her tone was a flame burning you alive, her frowned eyebrows and threatening eyes sent shivers down your body — that or the excruciating wintry breeze that kisses your injuries — you are petrified in place. You gulp, your mouth opens and closes multiple times, but nothing comes out, nothing but only a whisper: “Donna...”

Her eyes squint and her lips form a pout, she walks closer to you, bending her torso so she meets your face.

“You know Donna Beneviento?” — You nod twice.

A hum leaves her throat but she doesn’t look any less suspicious of you, she grabs the sides of your face, carefully enough to not open your wounds any further, and brings you closer to her by lifting you at a point your feet barely touch the floor — how little effort it took an injured woman to do this, well, not any woman, she’s Lady Dimitrescu. Who is about to behead you if you don’t decide to speak — Yet, she stops and stares deep into your soul, a command: proceed.

“I-I was sent by Lady Beneviento” You stutter so much you need to take a deep breath before continuing. “She needs help, Ethan is—”

“Ethan?”

“Yes, Ethan Winters, he found them and n—” She suddenly drops you, the thud of your body hitting the ground makes you gasp for a second, you couldn't even hold yourself up. She stands straighter now, her expression is cold and serious as she looks forward — what is she wondering about? Will she help you? She takes her time staring at the horizon, time enough for you to slowly pick yourself up, limps slightly trembling.

A heavy and low sigh fills the air as she closes her eyes, arms hanging on her sides, as her golden gaze meets you again, you almost frown your eyebrows seeing how unexpectedly her expression changed. She was so revengeful and ferocious a few moments ago, now she looks… fatigued — shattered, if you will — . The woman unhurriedly walks out of the room, leaving you without a proper response. Will she help? Will she not? Good lord, all this tension even made you forget the pain you find yourself in. Perhaps the medicines you brought will do better for yourself than for her. You bury your hand inside of your bag and pull out some pills and flasks for your injuries, following Alcina right away, clumsily sprinting to match her quick pace.

“Lady Dimitrescu! Wait, please!”

——————

heeyyaa I actually posted chapter 2!! yk the drill, if you read it till here, thank you and I love you!! please like and/or reblog if you want me to post the next chapter!!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #donna x reader #donna beneviento x reader #lady dimitrescu fanfic #txciawrite #the woman in your castle #twiyc

[sweetcathedral]

Note: Finally back from my break! Lots of things keep happening in my life that I’ve never expected, so I’m busier than usual, but I have queued up some quick stories for the next few weeks. Although this was inspired by the Are You Am I dresses, it’s more centred around Catholicism that I have a love-hate relationship with. Enjoy!

⚠️: 18+, fem! reader, altar sex, raw, church sex, overstimulation, creampie/breeding

“I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“Cut the act. You’d be fighting me, if you really opposed it,” Sukuna scoffs, admiring the view of your legs spread open—laid on top of the altar. Your ripped stockings, now webs of black thread, running across your thigh, like it’s still trying to keep him from tainting the last bit of innocence you had left. Beams of light fell from the skylight of the church, casting a soft glow on the God that was once loved, but now abandoned and left to be eaten by what he created.

“The hell are you wearing?” Sukuna arched his brow in a grimace expression.

You looked down at your outfit, not seeing what could be wrong with it. It’s your first time wearing something like this; a silk dress with dainty straps and a raw hemming that looks like it’s about to come undone & sheer opaque black stockings. “I don’t see anything wrong with it, does it look bad?” Sukuna strides towards you, analyzing your outfit, even lifting the hem of your dress as if he doesn’t know what’s already there.

“I will never understand the evolution of clothing in this era,” he cocks his head to the side with a placid look in his eyes. Ah, right. He died a long time ago.

“What did people used to wear in your time?”

“Fabrics that actually clothed them,” he tugs at your stockings and wiggles his finger in them, still trying to wrap his head around its function.

“Hey, stop that, it tickles and it feels weird,” you giggled, pushing his hand away.

“I don’t see any point in wearing it. I could rip this off right now.”

“Sukuna, no! This is expensive!” you bicker at him, clinging on to your dress as he tugs at it like a child does when they want their mom’s attention.

“Just ask Gojo to buy you a new one when we’re finished.”

“Finished?” the sound of threads shredding apart startles you.

You scan yourself like a puppy chasing its tail to see if he’d actually ripped your dress apart. Nothing, but something felt off—looking down at your stockings, you see that there was a large slit running down your leg, exposing your thigh.

"Heh, whoops," he flicks the small shred of fabric off his nails, walking you into a corner. The shadow of the room contrasts his face making his eyes glow a deeper crimson. "Don’t look away from me," grabbing your face, his nails dig into your skin as you try to fight off his grip. Lifting you against the wall, he softly drags his nails along your exposed thighs, teasingly drawing circular patterns the higher up he goes.

"Sukuna," you pleaded softly, his hand now on your neck, lifting you ´til you were on your tippy toes & trying to balance yourself so that you wouldn’t fall into complete suffocation.

"Shh, someone might hear you," he whispers in a low octave. You forgot you weren’t in a closed off area. The two of you were originally sent to an abandoned church to investigate a curse user of the Roman Catholic religion, that is until Sukuna took over Yuji’s body.

Your body jolts at Sukuna brushing his knuckles over your clit. The heat of you traces over the length of his finger through the thin fabric of your panties, stifling a moan. "Don’t be shy. It won’t be your first time sinning in front of a God," he cooed in your ears. He told you to be quiet, but he really just wanted to see you hold yourself back as he evokes your temptations & diminishes your composure. He loves seeing you corrupted, especially when it’s in a respectable church built to honour a God who guides herds of blinded sheep.

Only shame & humiliation wash over you as you avert your gaze from looking at the smaller crucifix hanging over the doorway the two of you came from. He turns to look in the same direction you did, a sly grin stretches from ear to ear. “I have a better idea,” his eyes narrow in defiance as he turns to look at the God overseeing the center aisle.

“I don’t think we should be doing this.”

“Cut the act. You’d be fighting me, if you really opposed it,” Sukuna scoffs, admiring the view of your legs spread open—laid on top of the altar. Your ripped stockings, now webs of black thread, running across your thigh, like it’s still trying to keep him from tainting the last bit of innocence you had left. Beams of light fell from the skylight of the church, casting a soft glow on the God that was once loved, but now abandoned and left to be eaten by what he created.

You released a deep exhale at the feeling of something soft and wet trailing over your inner thighs—Sukuna. The warm feeling eases the tension all over your body and you can feel the heat of your blood pumping in your ears, his face getting closer and closer to where you want him the most. “Maybe we should find a more private setting,” you try convincing him.

“Now why would I want that? Just look at how wet you are down here,” he bites on your panties and pulls them off, revealing a dripping mess. It was embarrassing, immoral, but there was something about how good it feels to be doing something so wrong. The thrill of it sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, your heart beating against your ribcage. More. “Tell me what you want.”

Everything, but even that thought wasn’t enough. “I want you . . . to take me to hell,” you whisper to him.

Taken aback by the words that just came out of your mouth, he brings himself back with that same sly grin and a soft look in his eyes. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

From one moment to the next, Sukuna drove your sanity out from you until you could think of nothing, but only him. The bold movement of his tongue reaching in to taste you, his fingers teasing around your clit and fondling your breasts, his lips pressing on every part of your skin, leaving wet splotches that are deep enough in colour to bloom into an aching bruise afterwards.

“Sukuna,” you lift the hem of your dress over as you fold your legs to your chest—revealing your painfully aching cunt, glistening with desire. The syllables of his name roll off the tip of your tongue like nectar. “More.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” he pulls your hips towards him, enough for your cunt to be pressing against the thick bulge fighting the strain of his black jeans. The altar creaked, as if in disappointment, at the sudden weight change.

Mesmerized by the sight of you laid on the altar like an offering, he takes his time to soak in the image, burning it into his mind; the burnished oak altar with the scene of the last supper carved beneath it, a warm glow cascading from the skylight of the church and the large crucified God, looking down at the lustful act unfolding in his house of worship. But then the feeling of your hips impatiently bucking at him interrupts his thoughts. “You know, they say patience is a virtue,” pleased at your eagerness.

“Fuck the virtues.”

“What a bold thing to say in a church,” he softly chuckles, the sound of his zipper perking your ears.

You reach for his belt, but he laces his fingers into yours, pressing your hand down. The tip of him brushes against your soft folds, lubricating itself with your juices. Without a struggle, his cock unfolds you, pushing a welcoming entrance open between your legs. Your walls flutter in excitement, pulling him in, as the creaking floors of the church groaned in disapproval.

“Oh, God,” you gripped at the altar cloth.

“You should moan louder for the angels to hear,” he thrusted into you harder than when he entered, the sound of skin slapping bounces off the walls. “Fuck.”

All righteous thoughts were purged out of you, like a soul being cleansed anew at adoration. Demon. It wasn’t your first time with him and it definitely won’t be your last. You can feel your body getting desperate to finish as you began to buck your hips faster.

“Closer,” you held your breath, arching your back.

The sound of his name falling off your lips sends a painful feeling of the need of wanting more. He wanted to strip away your senses to see a side of you that no one else has ever seen, the first to discover you and explore whatever you hid away from plain sight. That is what drove the King of Curses, Father of All Sins, to greed.

Echoes of your panting and moaning became a choir of sultry tones, replacing the familiar sounds of organs and bells in the church. Even though your legs were trembling from reaching your limits, he kept on going, ignoring your pleas and begging.

“Not yet,” he grunts in your ear.

“Please . . . I can’t take it anymore.”

Tears stream down your face as you grip onto Sukuna’s arms. The feeling in your legs were no longer there and you were having a hard time controlling your tremors. Just when you thought you couldn’t reach another climax, your cunt began pulsating rapidly as your body uncontrollably tensed up again.

When Sukuna pulled out, a waterfall of cum spilled out of you and pooled onto the altar cloth, dripping down the carving of the Last Supper. The two of you pant in exhaustion, he’s laying on top of you with his arms wrapped around your head, his hand firmly holding you close to him.

You brush your fingers through his hair, reciprocating the same affection back. “Tell me you’re finished for today,” you giggled.

“I wanna say ‘no’, but that’d mean you’d be knocking on Shoko’s door again.”

Both of you laughed as you teasingly tugged at his ear.

“Should we clean—!”

As he helped carry you off the altar, you looked back at the aging oak and crumpled cloth that had been perfectly fine and untainted—now dented with deep inhuman scratch marks surrounding the faint imprint of where you laid.

#minors dni #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #ryomen x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fic

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I... I would... I would love to see Jameson testing Jake some more... I mean the drabble of him demanding Jake let him do things for him for food was... good...

Your wish is my command, my love

CW: Noncon/dubcon (nightmare, semi-explicit), noncon/dubcon touching and kissing, internal dehumanization, flashbacks, survivor initiates spice and is rejected, conditioned behavior, trauma response, knives, blood

More salt-copper-sweetness than sugar and vanilla, now, Nanda’s voice is rough with his breath hot against the pet’s ear. It’s a warmth that covers him, inside and out. 

It presses against the underside of the pet’s skin, and he opens his mouth to pant, sure that the blood will come back out from within him when he does, that he’ll spill Nanda’s voice back at him, a waterfall of the touch and tension and twist leaving him to fall like an offering or a plea at Nanda’s feet.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” Nanda asks, licking at the shell of his ear, and the pet shivers, all his awareness stretched between the hot tongue on his skin and the cold blade of the knife, the flat side pressed against his ribcage on one side.

Each is a promise, and the pet wants both to be kept.

“I-I...” His own voice is weak, snap of twigs, rosemary boiled in water until the flavor is gone. He shifts, kneeling somewhere that he can’t remember, a small room in a small house on a small street in a town where everything is named for the glory of the man he saved her from. There’s a folded paper on a desk and if he can only look, he’ll know, he’ll know why and where and when. If he can only look-

“I thought it might b-be difficult-... ah!”

Nanda’s hand, rough palms and calloused fingers, curving around the back of his neck over his collar, jerking him closer, and he forgets the note and the room and the town and there is only Nanda, there has only ever been Nanda and the pain. There are metal cuffs around his wrists, his favorite ones that scratch him and sting perfectly for hours after they’re done, keeping his hands behind him, just touching the small of his back with his wrists and his knuckles brush even lower. 

“What might be difficult, pet?” 

Oh, there’s the sugar, the slow melody of vanilla and egg. He loves how his owner says what he is, he has to love it, he was told to love it and there is no love but this one, no life for him but the custard voice of the man who cuts him to ribbons until he begs for more.

The pet’s mouth opens to pant as the knife is turned, Nanda’s motions slow and controlled, and the bright light of perfect pain sparks inside him as the knife draws a line. His skin opens like silk for the blade, and he moans, dropping his head forward onto Nanda’s shoulder, listening to the sound of his laughter like a spoon cracking the crust on creme brulee. Sugar, and fire, and blood.

“That... that it’d be difficult... mmmmn, fuck-... what with y-you... being dead.”

Nanda goes silent, shifting one thigh between the pet’s legs, pressing kisses into the soft, short shorn hair with bald spots from Robert’s muzzle, humming softly in thought. His thumb rubs, ever so gently, at the pet’s nape while the knife slips a little deeper.

The pet whimpers, rocks, ruts helplessly against Nanda’s leg, turns his head enough to lock at the soft skin of Nanda’s neck the underside of his jaw. Blood trickles in a welcome hint of sensation down his side, over the flat space just inside his hip. 

“That wasn’t very nice of you,” Nanda murmurs, fingers twisting into his hair, pulling it up and back enough to see the pleasure-drunk haze in the pet’s eyes, watch him bite his lip to muffle his whimpers and moans as he rocks in an erratic rhythm against the expensive fucking tailored pants Nanda is wearing. “To leave me like that.”

“You... ah, mmmh... fuck, you left me.”

“Look at you.” Nanda’s voice is a whisper again. The knife dips, swirls lazily through his skin like an artist pulling color across canvas. It presses in just a little too deep (not deep enough) and the pet throws his head back, briefly breaking Nanda’s grip, back arching into a perfect bow as he cries out. Nanda’s hand pushes between his legs, then, too-warm and not warm enough, firm grip curving around him, stroking with the same lazy slowness that he has with the knife. “What is it like, to love the pain?”

The pet swallows, the knife digs and digs digs into soft skin along his belly, drops down to his thigh, blood wells up swift and absurdly brightly red there. 

“It’s... it’s hell,” He whispers. “I hate, ah, ah, ah-... I hate this.”

Nanda’s laugh breaks apart like a mirror, shatters into a thousand bites of sweet blood, drips over his mind like oil. If he was kneeling before, he’s on his knees again with his face pressed down against the cool concrete floor of the specialty room, legs spread, and his back is heat and blood and pain. 

Nanda’s hands are on his hips, gripped tightly enough to leave the bruises he will kiss later, as he murmurs, “We know all about coming back from the dead, here, don’t we, J-”

Jameson wakes up.

There’s no gasp, no dramatic sitting-up-in-bed like in the movies. In one moment, Nanda’s voice murmured a name he can’t remember as the pet’s body gave way to his demands and in the next his eyes are open to pitch-black darkness and the soft sound of his roommate’s breathing across the room.

The pet’s-...

Jameson’s body shudders, shivers roiling under his skin. He is hard and throbbing, and one of his hands brushes down over his ribs just to make sure his fingers don’t slip through slick blood. He breathes in through his nose, heart pounding, and looks across the room.

The barest hint of moonlight through the window gives him enough to see Allyn by. Their hair spreads light red and thick around them, the blue light of night turning it all slightly eerie and haunted. The rounded lines of their face, the soft relaxation of their mouth. He wishes Allyn would bite him hard enough to make it bleed, and then pour their rain-voice over him and tell him he’s good. He wants their hands on him. 

He wants someone’s hand on him.

He reaches under the pillow and grabs his collar, keeping his fingers over the buckle to muffle its clinking, and pulls it quickly on around his neck, choking on a sob, on his rage, on how badly he needs to be cut apart until he feels taken in ways he wants no one to ever take him again. 

The constriction is soothing. He’s safe.

He’s safe, here.

He’s so hard the slightest brush against his boxers feels like he could finish just like this, just from the memory of Nanda’s voice whispering are you ready for me, pet?

A different voice, sonorous and droning, are you ready to leave the darkness and come back into the light-

False memories. Stop. Leave me alone. He bites his lip until he feels blood break free, but it’s not enough.

Jameson pushes the blankets down - he’s pouring sweat, cold but it doesn’t make him feel any better - and sits up. His feet settle onto the cool smooth hardwood, as old as the house, and he stands, stumbling to the door. He thinks-

He thinks, water.

A drink of water.

Rub one out to the memory of a dead man, then water, and back to bed.

The bathroom door is open. The light is on. He almost stops, but he knows Nova never turns the bathroom light off if she uses it, she says it’s bad luck, he doesn’t ask but she says it anyway. Everyone thinks he fucking cares about their shit here. He doesn’t.

He just needs-

water-

touch-

to be bled by someone who tells him he is a good boy-

The big guy who owns this place is in the bathroom. Jameson stops in the doorway, staring at his back. Muscles ripple under mostly unmarked skin, the slight curve of waist and small of his back. Jameson pictures his own nails digging into the skin, the soft red welts he could leave there, lines to mark him. How Jake’s hands could leave him bruised in all the best places.

How easily he could force his legs apart or shove him up against a wall and hold him there, hands around his neck, thumbs digging into his jaw on either side. How Jake’s voice would sound when he moaned, when he buried himself inside, when the pain between them was perfect, like it had been with Nanda, like it can be again.

His heart is still pounding, thumping so loud he’s sure Jake can hear it, pouring adrenaline in his veins he tells himself is lust and not fear of how deep this runs.

He moves.

Jake’s eyes must have been closed, whatever he was doing, because he doesn’t see Jameson coming, and he jumps when his hand lays against his back, turning quickly around. He’s so tall, and strong, but there are no bruises from him on the pet’s-

on Jameson’s skin.

“Hey,” Jake says, voice low, river under rock, wearing what seems eternal slowly away. His eyes drop to the collar buckled tightly around Jameson’s neck, and he takes in a breath. There’s no surprise, there. He’s seen this before, they’ve seen so many pets, but none like me, Jameson thinks, almost desperately. Not like me. Not like this. “What do you-”

Jameson backs him into the sink and grabs his face in his hands, pulling him down, forcing their mouths together. It’s less a kiss than a challenge, and Jake makes a sound of muffled uncertainty before his hands slide up to Jameson’s shoulders, and he thinks, yes, make it hurt-

Jake shoves him back and away, holding him at arms’ length. “No.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Jameson snaps, trying to twist free of the grip, but Jake’s hands are strong. “I want you. I want this. Fuck me!” He shivers in pleasure as he pulls too hard and feels a burst of pain that goes right between his legs, his already nearly painful erection seeming to throb even harder. Being hurt hasn’t felt so good since Nanda died.

Since he walked away-

“I said no.” Jake shakes his head. There’s a stubble along his jaw, and Jameson hates Kauri suddenly for getting the redness on his skin where the stubble scratches even though Jameson never does, not anywhere, not on his inner thighs, nowhere at all. Hates how they smile at each other. Hates that Kauri doesn’t feel like this, not anymore, and Jameson can’t imagine it will never stop for him. “You know I won’t ever touch you that way.”

“I want you to!” His voice cracks, he’s desperate, and when Jake lets go, just for a second, Jameson grabs his hand and shoves it down, so Jake can feel how hard he is, rocks forward against the heat of Jake’s palm. “See? I want it. Please, fuck, please-” His eyes are wide with need, and fear - of himself and Jake and his mind and his broken betraying body. “Please, I’m good, please-”

Jake’s hand jerks back with a hiss and he moves away. “I. Will. Not. Fuck. You. Listen to me. Just talk to me for a second-... I need you take in a deep breath, I think you are reacting to a reminder of-”

“Oh, fuck off! If you won’t fuck me, get out of here so I can take care of my fucking s-self.”

God damn it, his voice is weakening, he feels like he’ll collapse under the weight of death he’s walked away from or caused by his own hand. He slumps down onto the ground, onto the bathmat next to the tub, and puts his hands over his face. 

There’s a pause, then Jake again. “Just-”

“Just fucking go!” His eyes burn bright and hot, his breath hitches. Still desire runs up through his nerves and won’t let him go. “Get out! I hate you! I should have stayed with h-him, I shouldn’t have left, I should have been good and good and good and good until, until, unt-til-”

There’s a whisper at the door, Jake’s low murmur in return. Jameson hears, tell everyone I’m handling it if they ask, stay out here. Make sure Allyn goes back to their room, just in case. 

Just in case what? In case he hurts them? In case-

He came in here so he wouldn’t. 

Oh, fuck, what if he hurts Allyn?

A pause, and then the click of the door closing. Jameson looks out from behind his fingers, only to find Jake slowly sliding down to sit with his back against the door. 

“Talk to me,” Jake says softly. “What happened? Did you have a nightmare?”

Jameson’s tears break free, then, burn down his cheeks like a volcano is pouring liquid fire into a city below and leaving wreckage and empty air in the shape of bodies behind. He chokes on a sob and curls up around himself, shaking his head, again and again. 

He can’t stop crying, and Jake doesn’t stop him, only waits. 

He nods.

“Okay.” Jake’s voice is low. Fresh water on his tongue, a snowmelt waterfall by the side of the road. He laughed, didn’t he? He held his hand out to feel the icy water slide through his fingers and sink into the thawing earth below.

It doesn’t snow here.

Why won’t his mind stop inventing memories that aren’t his?

“What happened in your dream? You don’t have to tell me, only if you want to.” Jake’s voice, low and calming, doesn’t stop Jameson’s tears but instead it opens him up to them, he cries the same way he bled, helpless to stop. 

“M-My-... my first-... I was w-w-with him-”

“Okay.” Jake hesitates, and then asks, softly, “Can you tell me what you were so afraid of that you put the collar on?”

Jameson doesn’t look up. He keeps crying. Eventually, though, he manages to answer.

“M-myself.”

---

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump  @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @wildfaewhump

#whump #nsfwhump #intimate whumper #intimate whump #masochism tw #sadistic whumper #creepy whumper #blood tw #knives tw #trauma response #abuse survivor initiating spice #dehumanization tw #conditioned behavior #conditioning #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #jameson bb #noncon tw #dubcon tw #noncon kissing #noncon touching #ptsd tw

[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver - Chapter 11

Hello everyone. That’s me back from my holidays and I have ch 11 ready for you.

The first part is our two lovebirds still on holiday in Doranelle and they get to be cute and yes, this part as fluff. Enjoy it while it lasts.

For the second part and the ending, just blame the angst gremlin. I decline every responsibility.

It was Sunday and also Aelin’s last day of holiday in Doranelle. She and Rowan had spent their Saturday in the Cambrian Mountains and did a lot of hiking, had a picnic near a waterfall and swam naked in the pool in front of it and also engaged in some other more interesting activities. The day had been perfect and they had managed to survive two full days without fighting and they both were impressed by it.

Now they were in his car and Rowan was driving her to the coast. He had explained that it was the last part left to explore and that one of his colleagues had suggested a lovely place. He had made lunch for both again and they did manage to set off a bit earlier.

Aelin was comfortable in her seat, her feet on the dashboard and he stared at her while her head was turned to look outside. 

After their talk he had decided to stop feeling guilty. Aelin had been right and they both deserved a second chance at happiness. He had finally decided to accept what he felt for her and maybe that was why they had not fought for two whole days. They had been both pushing the other away, too scared of caring once again. He still was, if he was truthful to himself. Her job scared the heck out of him. But he was done pushing her away.

“Are you comfortable over there?”

She turned and smiled at him, her blue eyes lit with mirth “are you going all health and safety on me, captain?”

“You are the firefighter, you should know the dangers of such a position in case I hit hard on the brakes.” He explained, stopping a mocking smile from appearing on his lips.

“Well, just don’t slam on those breaks, captain. Can you do that and deliver us safely to the beach?”

His hand gently brushed her naked knee. She was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a colourful top.

“Will the water be warm enough for me to swim in it?”

Rowan nodded. “According to my colleague this is a lovely beach and not too busy either. Something only the locals know about.”

Aelin pulled her sunglasses down on her eyes “wake me up when we are there.”

Fifteen minutes later Rowan poked her arm “Ohi, sleeping beauty. Get up.”

Aelin lifted her sunglasses on her head and glared at him “why can’t you behave like a well mannered man? I don’t know, wake me up with a kiss?”

He got of the car and opened the rear door and unloaded the two backpacks “get your arse out of my car. We are at the beach.”

“So, so rude.” She complained while leaving the car and grabbing her stuff from him. They had warmed up to each other but she still adored their bickering.

He started walking and she ran after him, grabbing his hand in hers.

They arrived at the beach and she rejoiced at the discovery they had the entire place to themselves.

Rowan selected a space not too far from the water and deposited their stuff on the ground, placing also the two beach towels for them.

In an instant Aelin had removed her clothes and was standing in front of him in her bikini.

He stared at her “is that your… bathing suit?”

She posed for him “lovely isn’t it?”

It covered very little, thought Rowan. Two red triangles covered her breasts all tied together by some very flimsy strings and the same for the bottom part.

He grabbed her hand and pushed her down on the towel “sit,” he rummaged in his back pack and took out sunscreen “you have a very fair skin and you will burn.”

Aelin sat down and he took a place behind her. He dropped some cream on her back and started spreading it on her back “you do the front,” he said by passing her the bottle.

“I thought you’d love the honour.”

Rowan sighed “if I do that it might lead to something else which is not appropriate on a beach in the middle of the day.”

Once his hands stopped she reached for the knot behind her neck and untied it, the top of her bikini falling off. She untied the one on her back as well and turned to him “up to the challenge, captain?” She took the bottle and put a dollop of cream on her fingers and started spreading it on her naked breasts and enjoyed staring at his expression morphing into pure lust.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He put more cream on his hands and began massaging her breasts making sure they had a nice cover “given how flimsy your bikini is, you need protection everywhere.”

“So considerate of you…” she teased him arching her back into his touch. She never had enough of him. She had a few men before Sam and no one had ever made her feel like that. Not even Sam.

Once he was done he bent over and recovered the piece of garment “come on, cover up.”

She took the piece of her bikini from him “scared by a pair of magnificent boobs?”

“No, we are in a public place.”

She slowly put the top back on and he offered to tie it for her “let them stare.”

Rowan’s mouth was at her ear again, biting gently her lobe “I don’t share.” and the tone in which he said it made her toes curl.

She then pulled away and ran to the water, jumping in it with happiness. Rowan stood and joined her slowly.

“Come one, it’s stunning.” She shouted emerging from the water.

Rowan smiled then ran and once he reached her he tackled her and carried Aelin like a sack of potatoes and threw her sin the water as soon as they reached a deeper spot. 

Aelin re emerged. She tried to protest but she found his body against hers, his lips kissing her hard. She stared at his tanned and muscular body and ran a hand along his chest “I don’t share either, captain. I am very jealous of what is mine.”

Those words were his undoing. He grabbed her legs and pulled them around him and Aelin climbed on him and a moment later they had completely forgotten they were in the middle of the sea.

Luckily for them they had remained the only two people on the beach as their adventure in the water was followed a bit later by one on the sand.

Fully clothed again they now lay side by side. Aelin had her eyes closed, trying to suntan a bit and Rowan on his belly reading a book.

Aelin turned on her side and lifted the cover of his book and noticed it looked like about some theory of flight or tactics “we are on holiday and you are working?”

He turned to her.

“Your book,” she pointed “it’s about flight tactics. Can’t you enjoy a day without thinking about flying?”

“I’d like you to know that I am reading for pleasure. The fact that the book is giving me great ideas is another matter.”

Aelin scooted closer to him and placed her head under his arm and stared at the book with curiosity. She noticed strange drawings “are those flight manoeuvres?”

He nodded and with his arm he pulled her closer “this,” he pointed at the diagram “is called barrel roll attack. It’s quite cool.” Then he pointed at another one “this is the Immelmann and this one…” he turned the page “these are a low and high yo-yo.”

“They have funny names.” She looked at the book “this one seems cool,”

“This is a high G barrel roll.” He explained “you do this when the attacker is at your tail and you can feel his guns on you. It’s far more brutal than a regular barrel roll. Not recommended if you have a sensitive stomach.” He took out his phone and showed her something “Fenrys put a camera on his fighter during training and this is a video taken during training and a mock dogfight.”

Aelin watched the video with amazement “Play it again, it was so fast.” He did it and she stared at the jet completing the manoeuvre “was that you?”

Rowan nodded and showed her a few more videos of their training. She was fascinated.

“I still want to see you fly. For real.”

He put the phone down and looked at her “Lorcan says it’s fine. We can do that when I come back.”

Aelin nodded and he kissed her. He closed the book and pulled her closer and then lay down with his arm over her in a very protective gesture. She turned and snuggled all the way against his torso and let his body protect her from the sun. 

It was a few hours later when Rowan woke up and realised they had fallen asleep on the beach. Aelin was tucked in his embrace and was sleeping soundly and he was glad to notice that her body was in the shadow of his body. It would have been a very painful awakening. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him and he loved the freckles that had appeared on her face.

“We fell asleep.”

“You really do make a good pillow.” She told him while sitting back up.

“I will make sure to update my resume, I am sure it’s a very sought after skill.” He stood and offered his hand to her “come on, let’s go for a stroll.”

She wore her top again “we don’t want to cause a riot, don’t we?”

Rowan smiled and he pulled her up after he took her hand.

They walked for a while. The beach had turned out to be much longer than they thought. Aelin had kept her shoes in one hand and walked the whole distance with her feet in the water. She hadn’t realised how much she needed a holiday. In the past year her life had been complete dedication to her job. It had helped to keep the demons at bay. But now there was Rowan and hopefully she had found someone with whom to walk the path back toward light.

“Fancy going out for dinner tonight?”

“I am craving seafood.” She said swinging their linked hands “we can stay here. Have dinner and then go back to your flat.”

“Sounds like a great plan.”

It was much later that night when they finally rolled back into Rowan’s flat.

“I am so tired and my face is on fire.”

Rowan cupped he face with his hands “you have freckles and you are stunning.”

Aelin gave him a smile and then ducked “I call dibs on the shower.”

Rowan laughed and let her win.

The shower took her a bit longer than planned. Her thoughts wandered to the fact that she was meant to fly home the next day and sadness struck when she realised she did not want to leave Rowan. They had the four best days so far and she hated that she had to wait two more weeks for him to be back and finally try and work on the foundation of their relationship that they had built during that holiday.

Once back in Rowan’s room she started packing. He had given her her own room but she never used it. They had ended up sharing the room and the bed.

She was busy groaning at packing when she felt his arms fold around her waist from behind. His smell of pine and snow was much stronger and she leaned against his chest, closing her eyes “I really don’t want to go.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks,” he told her against her ear.

“I know,” and she hated how petulant she sounded. She turned in his arms and buried her face in his naked chest. Rowan held her tight, her head tucked under his chin.

“I love when you hold me like this. It makes me feel less alone.”

Rowan squeezed her and they remained like that for a time that it felt endless. He didn’t want her to go either and he had a feeling they were going to be two very long weeks. He was getting used having her in his bed and loved waking up in the morning with her scent around him. He eventually pulled away and sat down on the bed and put on his briefs “come on,” he patted the bed “time to sleep.” She climbed in bed with him and took her usual position nested against him and his arms protectively around her.

Aelin was once again in his car but alas, this time it was not for an adventure. He was driving her back to the airport. Her holiday was officially over and she had been grumpy all morning. 

His hand was resting on her knee giving her comfort.

“Are you going back to work tomorrow?”

Aelin shook her head “I need to start tonight. We are on night shift.”

“That sucks.”

In the distance she noticed the shape of Doranelle airport appear and her heart sank.

Rowan parked in the short stay car park and he grabbed her hand and together they walked into the airport. Check-in was a breeze and he eventually walked her just before the security area “this is as far as I can go.” He told her sadly.

Aelin crashed against him and fought it very hard not to cry.

“Hey…” he said very gently caressing her head “I will be back soon.”

She took a deep breath and pulled back.

“Call me when you land. I don’t trust those civilian pilots.” His thumb brushed her lips gently then he leaned over and kissed her.

“These are going to be two very long weeks.” He whispered against her mouth.

“I know.” Then she kissed him one more time and pulled away with all the courage she had. One of them had to let go eventually.

He kissed her one last time and let her hand go and stared at her walk away until she disappeared behind security.

***

It was a few hours later when Aelin landed back in Orynth. She had texted Aedion before boarding and gave him an ETA. While she waited for her bag to arrive on the carousel she phoned Rowan and he answered at the first ring.

“I am pleased to say that my pilot did manage to land us safely back in Terrasen.”

She heard Rowan scoff “It’s not that difficult, he just needs to press a few buttons and use the stick for landing and take off.”

She loved to tease him “he was hot though…”

“Sure, if you fancy men getting paid to fly a big metal trap in a straight line…”

She chuckled “we turned a few times as well.”

“You banked,” he corrected her.

“Uh?”

“An aircraft banks, does not turn. Then we roll, pitch and yaw.”

She huffed “fine, we banked. Happy?”

Her bag arrived and she placed it on her shoulder.

“Was the flight okay?”

She started walking to the exit “yeah, no turbulence this time.” She reached the main doors and walked through “what are you doing?”

“Getting ready to head to class.”

“Are you going to crush those little bastards?”

Rowan laughed “oh yes, I have a very hard exercise in mind.”

She spotted Aedion in the distance and weaved at him “Aedion is here. I gotta go.”

“Be safe, okay?”

“You too, captain. I am getting quite fond of having you around.”

“Bye menace.”

Aedion found her within minutes and hugged her as if he hadn’t seen her in a lifetime.

“Welcome back.” He squeezed her “give me your bags.” He grabbed her stuff and they walked back to his car “how was you holiday?”

“I had a good time.”

“You seem happier.”

“How is the station? Is it still standing?” She changed the subject. She had no intention of talking about her time with Rowan with her cousin.

“It is still standing. We had a few interesting calls, but nothing we could not handle. The team we got from west is blending really well in our team.”

“Good.”

They arrived at the station not long after and once she got off the car Lysandra and Elide ran to her and hugged her fiercely “I was away only for four days.”

“We missed you.” Then Lysandra grabbed her arm and pulled her to the lockers room “get changed and talk.”

Aelin opened her locker and dropped her duffel bag inside it and took out her uniform “So nosey,”

“You have just spent four days with hot captain. Come on girl, we want details,” and both women sat on the bench.

“We had a good time.”

“And?”

“And it was relaxing.”

“And?”

Aelin removed her clothes and remained in her underwear “and that’s it.”

“You are telling me, that you just spent four days living in his flat and you two did nothing?”

“I am not telling you anything.” She wore her trousers, then grabbed her top and finally her blue shirt “things happened but they are between us.”

“Aelin, I have a bet to win.”

“I knew it.” Shouted Aelin, fixing her hair again in a tight braid.

“Well, they had to concentrate on a new target since Aedion and I are off the betting pool.”

Aelin stopped and turned to Lysandra and the woman showed her her fourth finger now carrying a gorgeous ring.

“Holy fuck, he did it. He finally proposed.”

“It was beautiful,” said Elide dreamingly.

“He did it here at the station?”

Lysandra nodded “he waited for me and Elide to come back from a call. He placed loads of candles in a heart shape in front of the rigs and as we drove back in he stopped in front of the ambulance on one knee. And then he proposed.”

Aelin hugged her best friend “this is amazing. So friggin awesome.”

“So nothing happened with hot guy?”

Aelin looked at the clock. She still had twenty minutes before the start of the shift “Fine. Just as an engagement present.” And she took a seat beside the two women “Rowan and I, we… had a great time.” And at her expression, Lysandra squealed and Elide smiled as well.

“Is he good?”

Aelin laughed “he is… very skilled.”

“Holy shit. How many times? Where? Any naughty places?”

Aelin knew this was going to happen. She and Lys had always shared such things “the first time we did it three time. The night I arrived in Doranelle. And we did it in the sea and on an empty beach.”

“Ok, I am really jealous right now.” Asked Lys grabbing her friend’s hands “what does this mean?”

Aelin shrugged “he is away for two more weeks. Once he is back we… will discuss things.”

“Ok, from a scale from 1 to god, how good is he?”

Aelin laughed “definitely god.”

“And is he…?” Lys’ eyebrows lifted in a suggestive manner.

“I am not telling you that.”

“What does he do to be a god?” Asked Elide shyly.

“Make you scream so much the neighbours thinks he is torturing you.” Explained Lysandra deadpanned.

Aelin laughed and grabbed Elide’s hand “don’t worry about all of this.” She said tenderly “how is it going with Lorcan?”

Elide blushed savagely “really well. I… I told him about… me.”

“And?” Asked Aelin curious. She hoped the man had been nice to her. She knew where his office was.

“He has been nice about it. He promised he’ll wait for me and that when I feel ready he will show me everything.”

Aelin chuckled “Good.” Then looked at the clock “girls, let’s go.”

The team was having a relaxing night in front of the tv. Aelin was on the comfy chair  her legs draped over the arm, reading a book. Rowan’s manual on flight techniques that he had lent her. After he had shown what he was reading at the beach she had started getting curious and wanted to be able to impress him upon his return. Her phone was in her lap and they had been texting all evening. She was hoping in an easy shift when the dispatch alarm went off. Everyone jumped and she and Aedion took a rig each after the announcement called for two engines and the ambulance.

Aelin ran to her turnout gear and got dressed super quickly and jumped in the engine.

“Did I hear correctly?” She asked Nox who was already at the wheel ready to go “are we going to the airport?”

Nox nodded.

“Those bloody civilian pilots.” She joked but no one got her and she wished Rowan was there, he would have loved it.

They arrived at the airport and Nox stopped the truck. Aelin got off and met the man in the car with red flashing lights “Follow me. We have a collision between two aircrafts. The big one then crashed into the hangar and we have people trapped in there as well.”

Aelin ran back and they followed the car and when they reached the accident site they were not ready for the carnage in front of them. The plane had slammed into the hangar and a raging fire had enveloped a side of the aircraft. Aelin searched for the second plane but could not see it. She jumped off the truck and went back to the man to get an idea of what they were dealing with.

“I thought you said there were two aircrafts.”

The man silently pointed at the remains of a smaller aircraft under the bigger one. There was nothing left and the smaller plane had been reduced to smithereens.

She went back to her team and started shouting orders “Manon, Asterin, try and crack the aircraft door open and see if we can save someone. Wesley, Kyllian you go with Ress and cover Asterin and Manon with water.” She ordered them “Ansel, you are on the aerial and get Manon and Asterin where they need to go.” Then she turned to the rest of her squad “Aedion, take Luca and Brullo and stop the aircraft fire. Remember that the fuel is in the wings.”

“How do you know that?” Asked Nox surprised.

“That is not important now.” She went to their engine and grabbed mask and oxygen tank and tools “Ren, Nox, you two are with me. We are going inside the hangar.” They all geared up very quickly and in the distance she noticed Dorian’s approaching. “Aedion, we might need to call west if it gets worse.”

Aelin and the two guys ran to try and find and entrance to the hangar but the frame of the plane was stuck inside it, blocking any access. “Be careful, there is jet fuel everywhere.” They walked under the wing on fire but they could not see any point of access inside the hangar.

“Can you hear it?” Asked Nox.

“Fuck, there are people still in the hangar.” The nose of the plane had collapsed as the landing gear had failed. Then she noticed it. A small passage near the nose. She removed her oxygen tank from her shoulders, pushed it through the opening and walked to the small hole.

“What are you doing?” Shouted Ren.

“Going in. I am the smallest of the three.” She kneeled and started to wriggle her body through the small opening “open up a bigger passage, we need to find a way to evacuate the civilians.”

Once on the other side, the heat was unbearable and fire and smoke made visibility impossible. 

“Fire department, call out.” She shouted to draw attention. A massive explosion rocked the hangar and she threw herself on the ground and rolled quickly on the side managing to avoid a piece of the roof of the hangar collapsing on her.

“Fire department, call out,” she shouted again. Slowly she began walking deeper in the raging inferno in the hope someone was still alive. Everything was collapsing around her. Then she heard it. A voice. 

“Fire department, call out.”

She heard the call again and tried to walk to the voice. Then she saw it. A person was on the floor and beside it there was another one. She ran to them.

“Are you okay?” The woman was in shock but alive.

She had a look at the man lying on the ground and searched for a pulse and found none.

“You need to come with me.”

The woman started shaking and Aelin pulled her up on her feet. She had no time. 

“Go through there, there are firefighters outside. They will help you. You are safe.”

The woman nodded and kneeled and slowly slithered through the small aperture.

“Ren, there is a woman coming out.” She shouted.

“We can’t open a passage. If we do this side will collapse completely.” Shouted Nox in a panicked voice.

“Go through the other side, go through the nose, but I need a fucking bigger passage.” and she left again not waiting for a reply.

Manon had cracked open the door of the aircraft and she and Asterin had made their way inside. The cabin was full of smoke and fire had started to spread from a gash that had opened where the wing was attached to the fuselage. Manon smelled fuel and knew they had to be quick.

“We are with the fire department. If you can walk we need you to follow us and evacuate the aircraft immediately.”

Asterin walked deeper down the aisle “cover mouth and nose with something.” She noticed a few injured people “Manon, you take those who can walk.”

Manon nodded and directed people out of the main door and once at the aerial she shouted for Luca.

The young man climbed the aerial very swiftly “I am passing you some passengers, make sure they get down safely.”

Luca started ferrying people back and forth leading them to safety to two waiting Lys and Elide.

Asterin heard a few ominous sounds and pushed the people down the aisle, Manon joined her and together with the last two passengers they ran into the cockpit and slammed the door shut when an explosion rocked the plane.

Luca flattened on the aerial and covered the person he was accompanying, with his body.

On the ground Aedion and his two men took sheltered from the explosion and Dorian did the same. 

“Evacuate the civilians quickly.” He shouted over the noise.

Lysandra and Elide took all the survivors to the ambulance that had been parked at a safer distance.

“Aedion, I want that fire under control.” Dorian barked again “we are getting close to the collapse point.” then he realised he was missing one person “where’s Aelin?”

“Inside,” and Nox pointing at the hangar.

“Alone?” Shouted Dorian in rage “you let her go inside alone? That is not protocol.”

“She was the only one who could fit through the small gap.” Ren bit back, not caring if he was being disrespectful to his CO. “Nox and I are trying to open a second gap but the fuselage is the only thing holding up the hangar right now.”

Dorian slammed his hat on the ground and tried to call Aelin over the radio but no response came over.

Aelin knew she was lost. She had found two more people beyond saving, but she did not give up. The heat was becoming worse by the minute. She continued walking until she spotted two figures hiding in a corner. They were alive “Fire department,” she shouted. The two people waved at her. One was badly injured “can you walk?”

“I can manage.”

“Lean on me,” offered Aelin to the man. Slowly they crawled back to the nose of the aircraft and as she did with the first person she pointed the exit to them.

She looked at the small screen on her wrist and noticed that her oxygen was running low.

“Shit.” She probably still had fifteen minutes. She could try and save someone else.

Dorian saw the two people come out of the passage and for a moment he hoped a third one would appear as well but Aelin never did. “Where are you?” He whispered to her.

Aedion got the aircraft fire under control, but not yet the hangar and Nox and Ren could finally work on opening a bigger passage for them to go in. They knew it was a race against time. Chances were Aelin’s oxygen was running low and they had to get in and find her quickly. 

Aelin’s breathing apparatus beeped signalling her that her juice was up. She had moved even deeper in the hangar and she had lost sight of the nose of the plane, her only landmark to her way out. All around her there was nothing but fire. She threw the air tank on the ground, now exhausted and useless. She removed the mask and the stench of jet fuel hit her. The smoke grew thicker and she began coughing, her lungs burning at every breath. She placed the mask again against her face and walked a bit more searching for more survivors.

Aedion saw it happen in slow motion. He was helping Nox and Ren opening a new passage to the interior of the hangar when the structure folded on itself. The material, now compromised by the crash and the heat had given up like a house of cards in the wind.

“No… no… no…” said Nox frantically, “Aelin is inside. Fuck it, Aelin is still inside.” He shouted.

Aedion turned to him with a dangerous glare in his eyes.

He ran to the engine and went to grab his oxygen tank but Dorian stopped him “you are not going inside.”

Aedion freed himself from the man’s grip “I am going in and I don’t give a fuck. I am not letting her die in there.”

“You can’t go in there.”

“If you love her as much as you claim you will let me go in and save her.” Aedion wore his gear in defiance.

Dorian tried one more time to stop him but Aedion did not listen and slowly crawled through the passage they had managed to open. 

Aelin stopped and coughed a bit more. Her lungs and her throat were on fire. She could feel the fumes from the jet fuel starting to have an effect on her. She moved a few steps then she heard it. 

A moment later the whole structure collapsed on her. Her mask rolled away from her hand, and Aelin, trapped under the debris, sank into unconsciousness as the fire now surrounded her completely.

TAGS

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #aedion x lysandra #Throne of Glass series #fanfic

[amesstm]

You Should’ve Come to Shiratorizawa

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Word Count: idk because I’m too lazy to check Word. So maybe 2K?

Summary: after losing his chance at going to nationals in his second-year, Oikawa sees a different reason why he should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa.

Warnings: nothing but fluff

A/N: inspired by ushijima’s favorite phrase lol

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━⊰

This was Oikawa’s moment. It was his second-year and he must make it to nationals. No - he would make it to nationals. He absolutely had to, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. All the days, hours, minutes, and pure seconds he dedicated to this match would mean something. Iwaizumi had to stop the determined setter from training himself to the point of breaking. Yet, it would all be worth it in this match.

Oikawa remembers the monster Ushijima Wakatoshi, and how that monster looked down on him in his last year of junior high. The mere memory of inferiority made him grind his teeth and furrow his eyebrows with his arms crossed. Even when they had a practice match together, Shiratorizawa still won. And that same condescending expression still haunted him.

“You’re going to break your teeth.”

Oikawa turned around, knowing that it would be Iwaizumi anyways. He plastered his classic, fake smile onto his face. In a sing-song voice, he replied, “Iwa-chan! You do care!”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and smacked him on the back of the head. “Just don’t get yourself out of the game before it even starts.”

Not wanting to hear another lecture, Oikawa nodded and returned to glaring at the doors that had yet to open.

~

On the other side, the predicted-champions were stretching. Ushijima laid out on the floor, stretching out his lower back. Usually, Tendo would’ve joined him but he decided to try to progress his gymnastics career. Did you understand what position he was in with his head in between his legs that grew closer and closer to the floor? No. But did you know that was something Tendo would do? Yep.

“‘Tori, you need to win the match so I can win a bet,” you said, with an imaginary halo hovering over your head. You even tilted your head to meet his eyes as he peered at you from upside down.

Being Shiratorizawa’s manager meant that you had an insight into their training; so, you knew you’d be eating well tonight. The comment wasn’t filled with any tone of concern. After all, this was Shiratorizawa.

“Nani?” Your redheaded friend asked, raising his head to look at you. Tendo’s wide eyes stared at you and into you, serious as Ushijima. Then he burst into his warm persona with a chocolate-sweet smile, “You put a bet on us to win? That’s so sweet!”

“Of course, I did! You guys always win,” you replied like it was a fact. As of this moment, Shiratorizawa hasn’t lost a match this season. You were absolutely sure that they would beat Aoba Seijoh, too. They’ve done it before and it will happen again.

Finally, the doors opened.

The blue and white colors greeted you from across the court. Banners hoping to garner the attention of Oikawa Tooru, the pretty boy setter of their team, were waved around proudly and erratically. Girlish screams echoed through the gym as their team entered.

“They’re very loud,” Wakatoshi muttered under his breath. He glowered at the opposing cheer section, probably putting some people in the hospital from mere shock.

“That’s because they have a pretty boy to cheer for,” Tendo said, lightening the mood as Wakatoshi grew more and more annoyed at the noise.

Oikawa’s reputation for being ‘perfect’ was well-known, mostly amongst the girls. Clearly, the girls in the gym believed in that wholeheartedly. To you, it was annoying. After all, no one was perfect. It was even more annoying dealing with that personality in person. During the practice match, his ego took up half of the gym. Hopefully, he’d be humbled today.

“Didn’t you want Oikawa to come to Shiratorizawa?” You asked despite knowing the answer. Admittedly, you just loved seeing how riled up Wakatoshi got about the ordeal. It was one of the few times the statue showed emotion.

“He’s an amazing setter and would’ve performed to his highest level had he come to our team,” the ace explained without skipping a beat. His eagle eyes focused on the brunette from across the floor, poking holes in him. It seemed that the setter felt the intense stare, because he returned it before turning away with a reddened face immediately.

~

“They’re so loud already,” Iwaizumi complained as soon as they entered the gym. He tried his best to mask his distaste for the cheers, but the outrageous screams for Oikawa made it difficult. “Can you tell them to be quiet?”

“Of course not! They’re my fans and I love them,” Oikawa replied with his cutest smile as he waved to everyone. Squeals of excitement greeted him back, making him grin all the more from the attention to his ego.

“I think I see another fan,” Matsukawa teased, subtly pointing across the gym.

Oikawa’s eyes followed his finger and saw his worst nightmare. Shiratorizawa’s prized possession, Ushijima Wakatoshi, was staring holes into his very being. Oikawa shivered with fear, until his eyes narrowed in on the girl beside him.

Wow, she’s really pretty. Wait – I can’t hit on the enemy!

Turning red, he shifted away from the opposing team. Hanamaki quirked an eyebrow, “Finally realize your attraction towards Ushiwaka?”

Oikawa shivered with disgust, “I’m not attracted to him!”

“Oh?” Matsukawa cheekily smiled. He turned to Hanamaki, continuing, “I bet that he’s hitting on the manager.”

The setter’s ears perked up, “That’s their manager?”

“If you actually looked at your surroundings, you would’ve realized this sooner,” Iwaizumi stated with disappointment. He added, “She was at our practice match, too, Shittykawa.”

Choosing to ignore the obvious slander, Oikawa pouted and sighed, “Too bad she’s with the enemy.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, “Only you could care about that type of thing.”

“Get your head in the game,” the captain barked at the second-years, clearly annoyed that they were just goofing off instead of warming up.

“We’ll win,” Oikawa said before stretching. “We need to.”

~

As expected, Shiratorizawa won with flying colors, led by the genius that was Ushijima Wakatoshi. The match point started with a serve from Oikawa and ended with a powerful spike from Ushijima.

Across from the gym, you saw the setter crumble to the ground. Even with the distance, you could hear Oikawa’s heartfelt apologizes that he couldn’t land an ace service. Some tears were wiped away hastily with shame. Not even the reassurances from his fans stopped the waterfall.

Surprisingly, the pretty boy was an ugly cryer. Seeing him in this imperfect state made you not want to look away. Was all that ego just a show to hide his insecurities?

“Don’t feel bad for him,” Ushijima said, drawing you out of your haze. If anyone who didn’t know him overheard what he said, he would’ve sounded like a cold hearted victor without any humility. But you knew him and his meaning. “He should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”

You sighed but still smiled. “I knew you’d say that.” Then, upon further inspection with your nose, you cringed, “Come on, you need to shower.”

After Coach Tanji gave his victory speech, the boys were dismissed to the locker room. As usual, you were left outside of the restrooms to wait. Fangirls whimpered over Oikawa’s melancholy state and even dared to suggest that Shiratorizawa tipped off the referee.

“If you think we needed bribes to win, then you know nothing about volleyball,” you defended your team, glaring at them like an eagle ready to snatch their prey. After watching these boys practice and endure yelling from their coach for hours on end, no mere suggestion of cheating or bribery would be tolerated.

As the girls opened their mouths to snap back at you, a different voice flew through the air. One that was noticeably deeper than these whiny pigeons. “As much as I hate to admit it, Shiratorizawa won fair and square.”

Of course, that voice belonged to Oikawa. You’ve heard his voice before. Most of the time, it would be higher pitched, flirtatious, and vibrant. Now, it was deeper, more serious, and grey.

“Thank you,” you muttered before being overrun by his fangirls who rushed to console him. You rolled your eyes. Reminding him of his loss wouldn’t make him feel better at all.

Yet, Oikawa perked up to the attention like a sunflower reaching for light. The usual tone of voice returned and his classic smile rose to his face. But when they were gone, the show drew to a close. The setter’s gaze turned to you. Something about it was sad and longing. He just couldn’t accept the fact, that along with this match’s victory, Ushijima had you, too.

“Oikawa,” a voice behind you rumbled. You turned to see a freshly showered Wakatoshi, who smelled infinitely better now. “You should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”

The victim of this constant reminder grimaced and sighed from dejection. “Not this again.”

“You know that I’m right.”

“I could never go there with you, my enemy,” Oikawa spat and crossed his arms.

Should you be here? Probably not since it felt like a lovers’ quarrel but hey, free entertainment. You closed your eyes and leaned back on the bench, blocking out their voices. It was quite easy since you couldn’t rest well from the anxiety of the results for nationals these past few weeks.

Soon, you opened your eyes to find Ushijima gone and Oikawa staring at you. “Why did you go to Shiratorizawa?”

In reality, it was because you didn’t want to leave Tendo alone. Instead, you shrugged, “Good academics.”

“… so why are you with Ushijima?” Oikawa asked, ready to scrutinize your reason. A part of him wanted to know if you were actually single. Another part wondered how anyone could tolerate his presence.

Although you tried to hold yourself back, laughter poured from you. You tried to calm yourself down, but the idea of dating a literal statue with no social awareness - no matter how handsome - made you laugh once more.

Students from Shiratorizawa had a reputation of being stern - unless you were Tendo, of course. In fact, most Shiratorizawa students that Oikawa had the displeasure of meeting seemed that way. So, seeing someone loosely enjoying themselves brought you even closer to Oikawa’s type. Your laughter made him want to laugh, even if he didn’t know why you were laughing.

“I couldn’t date Ushijima,” you explained. “We don’t have the same sense of humor.”

Oikawa shifted to his side, slightly with relief. Subconsciously, he started preening himself. “I don’t think Ushijima can be funny.”

“No, no. He can be funny, but it’s mostly by accident,” you elaborated with a chuckle.

“I like your laugh,” Oikawa declared. You weren’t sure if it was a compliment, since it sounded more like he was telling himself of that fact.

You quirked an eyebrow, “You’re even weirder than I thought.”

“Hey, my team already bullies me enough!” Oikawa whined. Despite his little facade of being sad, he still couldn’t hold back his smile.

You giggled, “They bully you?”

“Over everything!” Oikawa stated with a show of his arms in defeat.

“I wouldn’t bully you,” you proclaimed with sincerity.

“You really are an angel,” Oikawa complimented with awe. “I wish you went to Aoba Josai.”

“Awh, really?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Oikawa nodded. Smirking, you chuckled, “Then, you should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━⊰

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #hq ushijima #haikyuu tendou #iwa chan

[loversdelusion]

softer

deacon st. john x reader

a/n: please let me know if you'd like a second part of Deacon and reader finding out Sarah is alive and their reactions to it, I'd probably write it anyway but still lol, my stories are never proofread so if my grammar sucks, apologies

next

You've known Deacon a few years before the apocalypse began, you just so happened to be in Farewell at the same time as him, Boozer and Sarah were, you watched him send an injured Sarah off with a NERO chopper, your heart ached for the lover's separation, having grown fond of their relationship.

Until you've experienced the much softer side of Deacon, you've seen him at his worst multiple times, seen him break, seen tears streaming down his face, you've also been the one to calm the sea of rage and hopelessness in his heart once or twice, or several times. Deacon did vow to find Sarah with whatever it took, and you helped him every step of the way, you loved him, you weren't entirely sure if he loved you but you felt like you could feel it, in certain things he did for you.

In turn of you giving him a light in darkness, he has done the same for you, he was there when you were down, there when all seemed lost and hopeless, he was your shoulder to cry but you only used that shoulder in the darkest of moments, his hands have held yours when they trembled, his smile replaced yours when you couldn't bring yourself to.

That had to have been love.

You were sitting outside the cabin in Lost Lake, watching Deacon tinker with his bike, Boozer's dog napping in your lap, Deacon sighed, fiddling with a wrench that kept slipping off the bolt he was trying to tighten. "Maybe try a smaller wrench?" Deacon's head lulled back "This is the only wrench I have" he muttered back, annoyance clear in his tone "Deek, you've been fiddling with your bike for over 30 minutes already, fucking with the same bolt" you picked up the puppy and placed it in front of it's little house.

"What's wrong?" You kneeled down beside him, studying his expression "Nothing" he replied, lifting his hand back up to his bike, you gently placed your hand on his arm "Deek, your bike is fine, what is it?" Deacon's arm lowered, dropping the wrench to the ground. "I was thinking about you.." His voice was soft, tone almost shy, you couldn't deny that your heart skipped a beat "Wh-..what about me?" Deacon turned his head to you, he cleared his throat and shook his head "Nevermind" he stood up, eyes staying on you.

"Wanna go for a ride?" He held out a hand to you "Where are we going? We just restocked yesterday" he smiled softly "Just for a ride, I want to show you something.." You slipped your hand in his, standing up "Ride with me?" He asked, mounting his bike, you obliged, getting on behind him, and gripping the bars beneath you.

"Okay, Mr. St. John, have me back before midnight, yeah?" He chuckled at your joke, shaking his head and starting the ignition "Okay, Cinderella" the engine started, the bike lurching forward into motion.

-

The wind breezed through your hair, sending it whipping around behind you, you were leaning against Deacon, your arms wrapped around him, since you ran over a bump and almost fell off, it was his idea, not that you minded much "Do you still have nightmares?" Deacon's voice called back to you, your whole body tensed slightly "Uh.." You were nervous to tell him, afraid you were annoying with what you felt was your overbearing neediness.

"Are you?" He asked again, his tone taking on worry "Um, yeah..still do" you finally replied "For how long?" He asked, you sighed "It's on and off, sometimes I'll have good sleeps, other times I won't" Deacon shook his head. "How long, (Y/n)?" The only sounds that could be heard was the bike's engine and the sound of the wind breezing passed the both of you, you sighed breathlessly "A few weeks" you could feel Deacon's posture go rigid, you knew he wouldn't like it, but you said it anyway.

The rest of the ride was silent, not tense but you felt like if you said something that went against your wellbeing, the atmosphere would turn tense instantly, so you decided to just leave it at that for now.

-

Deacon slowed the bike to a stop, you could see a trail in the tree line, Deacon dismounted, you following after him "I found this place, a while back on a job for Mike, I got sidetracked, wandered off the beaten trail and found it" Deacon approached the edge of the trail "Come on" he held out his hand to you, you stared for a few seconds "I don't bite, (N/n)" he smiled, you hesitantly slipped your hand in his, he gently pulled you along the path.

You were both about 10 minutes in, it was quiet and peaceful, the sounds of insects served as background noise, you could forget that the apocalypse happened here "I came here a few times after that run, just to think and breathe" he muttered, your hands still loosely held together.

You came to a grove, one that made your eyes widen, it was beautiful and serene, there was a pond a few feet away from you with a small waterfall behind it, flowers and bushes littered the the edges of the grove, fireflies floating around silently, you were in pure awe, unaware of the longing look Deacon gave you and the warm smile he held on his lips. "This-..it's beautiful" you whispered, letting go of Deacon's hand and walking over to the edge of the pond, the water was still, no ripples whatsoever, you sat down, Deacon sitting beside you, it was quiet again, this time it was a good quiet.

It didn't last long too long "Hey, (Y/n)..?" He sounded nervous, more nervous than usual, you acknowledged him by nodding, too enamored by the calm sight before you, you could feel his eyes on you but you couldn't bear to pull anyway from the scene. Deacon couldn't help but stare at you, the same longing look in his eyes from before, he admired you, the shape of your nose, the curve of your lips, your soft (h/c) hair, your soft (s/t) skin, he licked his dry lips and snapped his gaze away.

"I want to tell you something.." His voice was quiet, your trance finally broke away from the scenery "You've done so much for me in the entirety of us knowing each other, you've helped me through so many up's and down's". "You stayed right by my side when I've been so crazy, especially on my search for Sarah" you shook your head "Deek, you don't have to thank me for that, I'm sure I'd do that if I never knew the fate of my partner, you're just looking for closure.." Deacon took his turn to shake his head "No, I'm sure everyone's sick of me" Deacon laughed lightly.

"But you.." Deacon moved so he was kneeling in front of you on his knees "I want to do anything for you.." His words were quiet, it sounded like he was afraid of your reaction but he continued "I want to be anything for you.." You were stunned, unsure of whether or not he was confessing to you or just telling you how close he felt to you.

Deacon paused in his ramblings about your story together, eyeing your expression extra carefully "You..don't feel the same" his head dropped in defeat "What? No" you sat up, mirroring his sitting position "Deacon, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to say that..I was too scared" you smiled shyly, you could feel heat gathering in your cheeks. "Scared of what?" He asked "Scared of me saying something stupid and you not feeling the same way, I never want to ruin what we ha-" Deacon pressed his lips to yours, silencing your worries, you tensed at first, a little surprised at his actions but you warmed up to it quickly, kissing him back.

You were in pure bliss, finally after all these years, you got to feel Deacon's lips against your own, everything he's ever wanted to say poured in it, Deacon ran his hands up your arms, your own hands finding the skin of his neck, you pulled away instantly, realizing what you were touching- his tattoo of Sarah's name, his love for her basically immortalized on his skin, Deacon looked confused at your expression until he realized what you were looking at.

"Hey.." His hand caressed your cheek "Sarah will always have a place in my heart, you know that, but..the rest is yours" your heart fluttered at his words "If you'll have it" Deacon eyed you, waiting for your answer, you couldn't help the smile that curled on your lips "I'd love that" you breathed, your arms wounding around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss, his hands finding the small of your back.

Deacon slowly pushed back on you, carefully lowering you to the ground, him hovering over you "You can have all of me, (Y/n)" he said, gentle eyes gazing into your own "No matter what, I'll always be yours" Deacon pressed a small kiss to your cheek. "That is a promise I'll make to you, if you can do the same" he held a hopeful look in his eyes, his thumb traced your bottom lip slowly "I promise" you brought your pinky finger into view, Deacon chuckled, wrapping his larger pinky around yours "We belong to each other".

It was nearing nightfall, you and Deacon laid tangled in each other's arms ever since your confessions "It's getting late.." You hated to break the moment, but night held dangers of it's own, Deacon sighed "Yep, let's get back" he stood up, holding a hand out for you, which you took with a smile.

-

The bikes came into view, nightfall was in full effect now, the same dreary world was back, ominous screeches could be heard in the distance "Hey" Deacon said, drawing your attention back to him, he smiled warmly at you, easing your worries a great deal "It's okay, I will never let anything happen to you" Deacon made his own silent promise of that, giving your hand a gentle squeeze and bringing it up to his lips, giving your hand a firm kiss, you blushed.

"(Y/n)..?" He asked once you were both back at the edge of the tree line "What?" You replied "It'll probably seem too soon..though I doubt that" he turned to face, grabbing both your hands "But from how long we've known each other..I feel like it's okay" you could almost hear him swallow the lump in his throat from how nervous he was, you could see how careful he was trying to be with his next words, you laughed lightly "Calm down, charmer, you can't lose me now" your heart melted as you earned a bashful smile from him.

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, you placed your hand on his cheek, Deacon could almost faint at the adoration you had in your eyes, that was all for him and he almost couldn't handle it, the way you held him, the tone your voice had when you spoke to him, everything about you was comforting "I love you, Deacon" the words left your lips in a hushed tone, it was like it was only meant for him to hear it, three words for him and only him.

His heart soared at the words you spoke, the words his soul ached to hear, your eyes were warm and gentle, Deacon was an anxious person underneath his gruff exterior, with a wall made of bedrock around his heart, only the right people could ever get through to him. You just so happened to be one of those people "I-..I love you too, (Y/n)" he finally found himself able to reply to you, he pulled you in for a tight hug, tight enough to keep you from disappearing as if this was all a dream.

Deacon found his person, you in turn found yours too, he loved you and you loved him, that was all you ever craved, him- in his entirety, mind, body and soul, he was the missing piece to your messy puzzle, finally, you found your heart full again, and nothing in this world would take that feeling from you so easily, not even Sarah.

#days gone #days gone x reader #deacon st john #deacon x reader #deacon st john x reader

[parkerlyn]

How would the ROs react to getting trapped in a closet with the MC (like seven minutes in heaven style)?

Hahaha weeeelll (written in the crushing stage, magic trap style with the whole gang 👀)

---

The door slams behind the two of you just as you realize that the room had no depth at all. A snap of magic encases you in darkness just barely breached by a sliver of light sneaking past the door frame.

"HEY!" You call back frantically, slamming a spell to try to interrupt the runes now faintly beginning to glow against your face.

“It seems like a weak trap, hold on a second!” comes a muted call back from the others. There’s a furious pulling from the other side, and though the door rattles in its frame the magic holds it firm.

You give a sigh and turn in the tight space to look at...

The Healer:

They have to crouch within the strange trap you’ve found yourself caught in, cool blue light scattered across their skin.

“It’s never easy for us, is it?” they try to joke, while pressing a hand against the back wall, shoulders rolling back and forth to try and find the most comfortable position.

"Doesn’t seem like it," you grumble, finding some solace in the fact that you’re not stuck alone.

The Healer’s eyes are flitting around the door, colors swirling like blown glass between the cerulean and gold. The runes cast shadows over their collar in stark lines, and you realize you can trace the exact edges of them because your face is within inches of theirs.

They realize it the same time you do.

Their usual forward confidence immediately shrinks back, creating just the barest extra space between you since they have no where else to go. In vain, they begin to busy themself with trying to turn in the confined space, hands running over the rough surface that nearby digs into your back. They continue their pointless search in a desperate attempt to appear more preoccupied by the wall than you.

“Think there’s another way out?” You ask quietly, letting the facade continue for just a little longer as you turn to stare at the door.

The shrill whine of magic trying to break through the trap is the only accompanying sound you register at first, until you hear them sigh. “Doubt it,” they finally admit, shuffling in place to reposition their body.

Though your focus is ahead of you, the trace sensation of breath against your cheek drags your consciousness screaming back to the mortalis next to you. Before you can control the impulse, you turn towards its source, finding yourself staring at the Healer again.

“I’m sure they’ll get us out in no time, though,” they whisper out, their face not really concentrated on the statement.

"I hope so," you respond, cursing an unsuppressed shiver. The Healer’s breathing becomes shallower and slower, as if not wanting to mix the air between you, afraid that it may pull them forward.

It does anyway, their face magnetized toward you with their next question.

"Are you worried?" There’s a movement in the corner of your eye as their hand starts to raise, hesitating and hovering near your arm. Heat radiates from their palm, in contrast to the cool feel of their magic beginning to sweep out at their conflicted emotions.

"In general? Or right now?" You answer back, equally uninterested in the conversation and more aware of yourself leaning into their touch.

When their hand connects you feel their fingers freeze, unsure of their own function for a few brief moments, before they eventually remember, closing around your bicep and sending a lancing heat through your chest. Carefully and recklessly, the hand shifts upward to your shoulder.

But as soon as they reach it, something snaps near you, and the two of you draw away just in time for the door to open. 

You see the Healer's eyes caught on yours while your ears hardly register the faded drone of someone boasting about their magic, and eventually they smile and hold out their arm to let you go from this snare, at least.

The Magesmith:

A string of curses flies from their lips as they pull on the door as well. “Can you try a little harder?!” they snap back across the barrier. You can practically envision Oisein mouthing the words with dramatic annoyance on the other side.

Taking matters into their own hands, the Magesmith fumbles in the dark with something at their metallic elbow, before sliding their fingers along the top of their forearm. You watch the color between their joints start to shift to blue, the saturation changing depending on where they trace their other hand. With a slight hint of hesitation, they hold their brass hand close to the layer of magic on the door, the blues starting to harmonize with each other.

They press their fingers forward into the runes, the symbols bending like gel caving into itself. The sight is so unexpected that it takes your eyes a moment to fully grasp the movement, unsure if the door is now melting against their hands or if you're just imagining things. Fingers steady their arm, small adjustments here and there along the gears as their eyes narrow and their teeth grind against eachother.

“Magesmith?” comes an urgent call from the other side. “TELL me you’re not-”

That's quickly interrupted, however, when a flash fills your vision and a heavy weight slams into your body. It throws you back roughly as your spine crashes against the wall, and you tumble within the small space to feel the floor greet your lower back and limbs far too quickly.

A fragile high whine ricochets around your ears and your skull while you try to take some sort of stock of the rest of your body.

And the body on top of you.

"Fucking- shit I thought I-...ugh-" comes a low whisper near your ear, warmth lazily drifting across your neck from the Magesmith's lips. Dark auburn hair waterfalls over their headband and barely brushes against your ear. You freeze underneath them as they groan and straighten their arms to lift themselves. 

Head hanging forward, you see their eyes start to open, a flutter of color swarming underneath their eyelashes. They scrunch their eyes closed again, lips pressed into a thin line, before opening them to soft brown. Finally, they look up, caging you beneath their arms.

“You alright?” they ask bluntly, clearly still trying to blink the spots from their eyes.

“Yeah, yeah I think so.”

“Sorry, in hindsight I should’ve seen the trap having an escape ward, but I might have...gotten a little curious, but didn’t think about it fully, which was stupid, and-" An uncertain pause. "....what?”

They look at you with a questioning stare as you try to press yourself into the corner you’ve found yourself backed into underneath them. You give an awkward smile, look them in the face, back down at where their legs frame your hips, and then back up.

“I’m just...I can’t move because-”

Realization hits them as the magic drops and the door opens.

“I can’t believe you didn’t think that through and-”

You don't even have to look to feel the salacious grin spreading on Oisein's face.

“...Wow. I mean, if you guys wanted us to leave the door closed all you had to do was-”

The Magesmith is off you in a blur of motion, running a hand down their face with an embarrassed string of excuses. They brace themselves off the walls of the trap and storm out, pushing Oisein aside. Who, you note, looks back to you with eyebrows raised and a smirk that says ‘I’m not letting either of you live this down for at least a week.’

The Sage:

The usual calmness in their demeanor still permeates through their body, but you notice an outline of nerves as they look to you in the dim light. Their hands roll over one another as they turn and watch the runes begin to coalesce in front of you.

“Ah, our trappers are from Han, it seems.”

You turn to them in bewilderment, at least some of the edge of your situation slightly dulled. “How do you know?”

They raise a hand, with an almost unnoticeable swallow while they survey the tight space around you, their eyes eventually landing on the magic. Their finger hovers just barely overtop the symbol itself, tracing a web of lines that snake between it and the other magic glyphs.

“For people who work with enchanting, you see small signatures like this in their work. I’d wager no small amount of athasins that if you laid these lines on a map, they’d match some portion of the rivers around Han.” They give a weak smile. “The Magesmith would protest at me saying, but there are a lot of flame-like symbols and sharp mountains that appear in their glyphs if you know where to look.”

You watch them methodically course over each river, bobbing along each connection and confluence. But after a few more moments, you register the almost constant shiver that runs down their arm through their hands.

With a turn you find their face knotted in concentration and focus honed in on the light around you. Their jaw is clenched, rigid, unmoving, their shoulders locked firmly in place. You begin to open your mouth to say something, but think better, letting the breath ease from your chest as you look to where their hand starts to trace the rivers again.

Gingerly you lift your arm, a cautious hand lowering to the back of theirs and letting your fingers fall around their palm. There’s more cold, clammy, nervousness than you expect and they continue to scour the paths of the channels.

But soon the shudders subside, and they stop after one last run through the rivers, hand resting against the surface with their hand splayed against it and yours holding theirs. Shoulders unfurl and they close their eyes with a sigh, before turning to watch your face with a more relaxed smile.

They spread their fingers to let you weave between their knuckles, and delicately lift your hand. At first, you think they’ll back away from the contact, trying to find some polite way to drop and disconnect your touch. Instead, they bring your fingers softly to their lips, furrowing their brow as they hold them there.

“Thank you,” comes a murmur, right as the light shines inward when the magic seal breaks.

They do drop your hands then, but together, still connected, and they hold on tightly with a smile.

Oisein:

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” they groan out, looking around at the tight quarters. “Who makes a trap out of a tiny room? At least make it exciting, some spikes or something.”

“Sorry-" You slide your hands down the door and turned with brows raised, though you're not sure they can see it. "Are you disappointed that we’re not getting impaled?”

They pout, then grimace, screwing up their face with a frustrated swipe at their eyes. “No, that's not- no, sorry.”

Silence hangs between you as you come to terms with the situation, and you watch them roll their lips together with lavender cast downward. Though you swear you feel their gaze cascade over you in the dim light, everytime you look over, they snap their eyes away again.

Had it ever been this awkward with Oisein?

No, you answer yourself. 

But things had changed recently, hadn't they? 

Oisein had never watched you with a serene longing in Saor, had never desperately held you in Saor, had never lingered a second too long when helping to brush dust from your skin in Saor.

Or maybe you just hadn't noticed.

An aura of force passes through your chests as someone tries to break the trap from the other side, to no avail. Oisein tsks, squinting an eye and scratching at their heart.

"Mortalis magic," they scoff under their breath. You let a small smile creep onto your face before looking at them, finally catching their eyes. They don't look away this time, mustering the courage to hold firmly to your gaze. "The rate they're going, we might be stuck here forever, huh?"

Familiarity buzzes warmly in your lungs at the return of their more usual snark in the midst of the quiet.

"Good thing I like your company then," you respond.

"Mm, think it's better that I like yours, otherwise I might be annoying on purpose."

"Here I thought that was just a constant unconscious effort."

Oisein's brow rises, and they just shake their head with a barely hidden smirk. Another minute passes, but the lack of conversation feels more comfortable, and you let your head drift against the back wall to relax in the stillness.

"I'd be happy to be stuck with you, though." The statement pierces through the methodical taps on the door, and you roll your head along its crown to look over at the other sheevra. They've straightened their frame, eyes softening. "I mean- outside of death traps too. I'd want..." They trail off, and the unfinished sentence lures you towards them.

"Want what?" For a moment you swear you only thought the question, but Oisein's face shows that you whispered it outloud.

"I-"

"GOT IT!" Comes the dull shout before you feel the magic shatter and light pours in with a torrent. Oisein shields their face with a sharp intake of breath, and you watch it morph immediately into a mask of flippant disdain.

"Took you long enough!" They bluster, forcing their way out the door, the anxious pitch only noticeable to you.

"A 'thank you' would be great, you know, just a suggestion," someone sneers, though you don’t really register who.

You suppose you'll find out more later, peeling yourself forward with the breath you'd been holding and offering Oisein’s missing “Thank you.”

---

Thank you for the ask! ❤️

#ro asks #drabbles #drabble #the healer #the magesmith #the sage #oisein #seven minutes in heaven #sorry these are a little silly and also a little crap #okay probably the last big drabble before the next update xD