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animeomegas · 3 years

Note

Could I please request how would the naruto omega boys act after having a nightmare? For example, how they would want comfort from their s/o, or how would they get that comfort if their significant other is away on a mission?🙏🏾🙏🏾

(Of course you can! I hope you enjoy it~)

Naruto –

Naruto gets quite sad after a nightmare. All his enthusiasm and joy for life gets sapped out of him until he’s just miserable. He feels awful and down and he really could do with some comfort, so if his alpha wasn’t already shaken awake by his nightmare induced flailing, he makes the decision to wake them up.

The best way to comfort Naruto is with some simple cuddling. Just hold him in your arms and tuck the blankets around him. Don’t push him to talk but listen attentively when he does (and he normally does). Just… being there for him goes a long way. No one was there for him when he had a nightmare when he was younger, and it really makes him feel better.

Of course, those abandonment issues mean that Naruto doesn’t like waking up alone after a nightmare, but he is used to it. At first, he always holds your pillow and breathe in your scent while he tries to fall back to sleep, but it never works. Naruto normally ends up wandering to the kitchen and getting something to drink or making some ramen to calm himself down, stewing somewhat in bitterness that he’s alone to deal with it. After his drink/snack, he does manage to fall asleep while holding your pillow, but he’d much rather you were there with him.

“I dreamt about, well, about when Neji died, but you were there too, and I know it’s stupid,” Naruto rearranged himself on your chest so he could look up at you. “But I was really scared that you were going to get hurt or something too… I’m glad you’re okay…”

Sasuke –

Sasuke has awful, awful nightmares. Mostly about the night his brother murdered his family or the day he killed his brother. He often wakes up disorientated, panicked and upset, his scent is normally bad enough to shock his alpha awake with him. But if for some reason they don’t wake up, Sasuke will never wake them, always trying to comfort himself, to his detriment.

The best way to comfort Sasuke is to make him feel safe. Sit behind him to cover his back while he stares at all the entrances and exits into the room, never box him in or restrain him, and on really bad nights, move him into his nest where he can more easily defend himself and feel a lot safer. When he calms down, don’t speak too much, he’s likely embarrassed enough already, just tuck him back into bed or into his nest and hold him at the back of his neck. The firm pressure puts him to sleep every time.

When Sasuke wakes up from a nightmare alone, it takes him a much longer amount of time to calm down. He throws himself out of bed and into the corner of the room (somewhere more easily defendable) and he just rides the panic for as long as it takes for him to be too exhausted to continue. Oftentimes, he falls asleep like that, jammed into the corner, neck bent at a funny angle. They are rough nights for him, and they happen far too often. He can normally keep the nightmares under wraps while on a mission, he never enters a deep sleep during missions so it isn’t hard to avoid them, but at home they always plague him. He doesn’t like it when his alpha is on a long mission, he doesn’t like it at all. He’ll try and get a mission of equal length so that he isn’t left behind.

“It’s alright,” you cooed into Sasuke’s ear, massaging the back of his neck in the hopes that would be enough to settle him into his nest properly. “You’re safe, my omega, alpha will look after you.”

Shikamaru –

Shikamaru wakes up from nightmares tensed for a fight, and when he realises that he’s in bed, the tenseness melts away into a desire for something to drink or smoke. The bedroom has an attached balcony, so Shika will normally grab some cigarettes and step out into the cool night air to sort out his thoughts.

The best way to comfort Shikamaru is to leave him to think alone on the balcony, but be ready to welcome him back into bed when he comes back in. You could stand on the balcony with him, he won’t mind, as long as you don’t speak or crowd him too much, but the important part is after that. He needs a little affection when he crawls back into bed, some chest rubs perhaps, to settle him enough to fall back to sleep. Shikamaru never talks about his nightmares, but this is something you can do to lessen the load in a different way.

When his alpha isn’t there, much the same happens, but Shikamaru often spends longer on the balcony and occasionally forgoes going back to sleep entirely, simply deciding that if he’s awake, he might as well get some work done. He tries not to even think about the fact that his alpha isn’t there, it will just make him feel worse, so he avoids it.

“You’re cold,” you complained after taking Shikamaru into your arms. He had just slid into bed after twenty minutes standing on the balcony.

“Sorry,” he said, his head flopping onto his pillow. “I’ll warm up in a minute.”

Shino –

Shino hardly moves during or after a nightmare, nor does he make a sound, so his alpha is unlikely to be woken up without Shino waking them on purpose, which he rarely does. Shino normally shuffles around awkwardly for a bit, trying to get closer to his alpha without waking them up, gently placing his head on their chest for a bit of comfort. It is at this point that you are most likely to be woken up.

The best way to comfort Shino is to pull him properly into your chest and stroke his hair while he settles himself. Pretend you don’t know anything is wrong and understand that if he does want to share anything about the nightmare, he’ll share it the next morning, not in the moment.

If his alpha isn’t there, Shino will normally grab for their pillow and hold that to use their scent to soothe himself back to sleep. If they’ve been gone long enough that the scent on the pillow is faded, Shino will huff a little and go and take something out of his nest to hold instead. He doesn’t really like taking things out of his nest but needs must. If he’s super upset from his nightmare and his alpha has been gone a long time, he might just crawl into his nest and spend the rest of the night there.

“It’s a cold night tonight, huh?” you murmured sleepily as you tucked a recently awakened Shino’s head into your neck.

Shino hummed in agreement but was seemingly focused on pushing his whole body as close to his alpha’s as possible.

“Get some sleep,” you murmured before pressing a kiss to his head and drifting off back to sleep.

Neji –

Neji is a light sleeper, so normally he is able to wake himself up before his dreams turn from unnerving to horrifying. Normally, but not always. When he does have an awful nightmare, he awakes with a soft gasp, blinking rapidly to try and remove the horrible images that are still firmly placed in his mind. When that doesn’t work, Neji normally gets up and makes himself a cup of tea, sitting in the kitchen to drink it.

The best way to comfort Neji is to come with him to the kitchen but let him brew the tea in peace. When he sits down at the table, take his unoccupied hand and hold it, drawing patterns on his palm or running your thumb over the back of his hand. That rarely fails to calm him down. If Neji isn’t calmed by that, it’s likely that he had a nightmare about losing you, so scoot a little closer and sneak an arm around his waist. He prefers a little more contact with his mate if he’s had a dream about losing them, after all. If it’s late enough in the morning, Neji will probably just decide to get up for the day and he’s a difficult person to coax back into bed unless he was hit really badly by the nightmare.

When he wakes up alone, Neji does the same thing, but he doesn’t sit at the table for as long, choosing instead to just get dressed and ready for the day, even if it’s 03:00AM. He doesn’t want to wallow in his thoughts alone, so he powers through, as he’s always done.

“Do you want to head back to bed?” you murmured against Neji’s hair, placing a kiss there to end your question.

Neji hesitated before shaking his head.

“Then let’s get dressed and we can head to the market before the morning rush, my love, come on now.”

Iruka –

Iruka wakes up from nightmares with a shout on his lips, an arm automatically reaching out for his mate to ensure you’re okay or to protect you from whatever he was dreaming about. When he realises that it was all a dream, he flops back onto the bed with a sigh, annoyed that his precious sleep has been interrupted. He relies on his good sleep schedule to keep him functional under his insane workload, so he uses sheer force of will to send himself back to sleep on most nights. But if his nightmare was particularly rough, he always tucks himself into his alpha’s arms. His pride certainly won’t keep him from what he needs to sleep, so he lifts up his alpha’s arm and tucks himself in, too grumpy and overtired to care if he’s disturbing them. He lets out a nice little purr when he’s situated himself perfectly and will happily take any and all comforting touches from his alpha if he wakes them up.

The best way to comfort him if to give him those soft, comforting touches, and avoid grumbling too much at his heavy-handed attempt at cuddling haha. A little head massage goes a long way with Iruka, and while he’s the biggest advocate for talking through most things in a relationship, he likes to leave the conversation for tomorrow, so verbal exchanges should be short and sweet.

If his alpha isn’t there, then Iruka will continue trying to will himself to sleep until it works. Failure isn’t an option.

“’Ruka, what do you want? It’s the middle of the night,” you groaned, tiredly rubbing your eyes.

Iruka growled lightly at your question, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge your statement, instead continuing to arrange himself in your arms.

You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face as he finally settled.

“Happy now, ‘mega?” you asked, massaging the back of his head. Iruka’s purring answered that question well enough.

Kakashi –

Kakashi’s nightmares are horrific and very frequent. But they’re also very complicated. How he reacts depends on the type of nightmare, his general stress levels, how far into the relationship he is, etc. Generally, they perturb him enough that he can never go back to sleep afterwards and he is very reluctant to ever share any of the details of his nightmares. If he wakes himself up, Kakashi is prone to shutting down emotionally to protect himself. If someone else wakes him up, he can react violently before he realises where he is, so as upsetting as it can be to watch Kakashi in a nightmare, you learn that waking him up isn’t a good idea, because Kakashi would never forgive himself if he hurt his mate in a post-nightmare stupor. Once he’s properly awake, Kakashi might try to train or go and sit by the memorial stone.

The best way to comfort Kakashi is to make the room he’s sleeping is as safe as it can be. Scent the air so that he wakes up to your scent rather than just his own panicked one, make sure all the doors are shut and curtains drawn and remove any covers that he may be tangling himself in. When he wakes up, give him space to collect himself, but talk to him so that he can recognise the sound as not hostile. Very deep into the relationship, he’ll allow you to give him some water and tuck him back into bed with some gentle words and simple affection. If the relationship isn’t that strong yet, then there’s almost zero chance he’ll stick around long enough for such things.

When Kakashi wakes up without his alpha there, he trains, trains and trains some more to burn the negative feelings from his mind. If the dream was about his alpha, Kakashi can sometimes get halfway through packing an emergency bag to go and rescue you before he realises how foolish he’s being. He’s never been very good at properly comforting himself.

“Kakashi, it’s just me here with you,” you promised him, standing away from the bed to give your disorientated mate some space. “Only us, it’s safe, ‘Kashi, it’s safe.”

Itachi –

Itachi is a master at supressing his painful emotions, and after nightmares is no different. Itachi is still and silent upon waking up from a nightmare, and unless you were already awake, there is no chance that you would notice him waking up in a melancholic mood. Itachi won’t ever wake his alpha up either, putting their own needs and comfort above his (as he always does).

If you did happen to be awake and notice his nightmare, the best way to comfort Itachi is firstly to ask him if he’s okay. He’ll always say he is, but it really means a lot to him that you care enough about him to ask. After that, there are many ways to comfort Itachi, but making him a cup of tea and brushing his hair is always a safe bet. If he’s really torn, he’ll accept some cuddling and physical affection instead of tea.

When his alpha isn’t there, he simply represses everything, gets up and dressed, and sharpens his weapons or takes a trip to the nearest town to stock up on some more dango and green tea. Itachi is used to doing things alone, but he really needs someone with him sometimes, and he is eternally grateful that, despite everything he’s done, he has someone who can care and be there for him.

“Here, my love,” you passed Itachi a cup of green tea before sliding into your bed behind him, brush in hand.

“You don’t have to do this, it’s late,” Itachi whispered, looking down into his tea.

“I love doing things like this with you,” you reassured him, already playing with his hair. “Let me worry about these things, Itachi, just enjoy your tea.”

#naruto #a/b/o #omegaverse #itachi #kakashi #neji #sasuke #shino #shikamaru #iruka #alpha reader #alpha!reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #naruto x reader #nightmares #omega x alpha

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barbika1508 · 5 years

Text

Protecting my nation (Peter Pevensie x Reader)

Words: 6,5K

Genre: Romance, Smut, PWP

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, and basically sexy times

Summary: The story takes place around the time when the giants wanted to invade Narnia. One day in particular when the High King was in the very front of the forces, there came a close call that almost cost his secret crush her life, which later on that night revealed to be not a mere crush but, full blown love.

‘’What the hell were you thinking?!?!’’ his voice by this point is literally booming, even though we’ve just entered his tent, I feel like the tone he is using is thunderous in the seemingly quieter camp ‘’What in Aslan’s name possessed you to do such a stupidity?!’’

I want to remark something in return as ‘Pure adrenaline.’ but I hold myself back, knowing he’s going to lose it even more, given that he’s pacing up and down already while I make my way to the table in the middle of the makeshift room. Tugging one chair out I lower myself down on it carefully, mindful of my body that is aching in some parts more than others ‘’You were busy in the front, Ed had his hands full, somebody had to protect him while he had your back.’’ I reply instead, reaching for the laces of my boots. They are still dirty from the battle my movements coordinated in a way as if I have my armor on, which does make me realize when I bend down that the protective metal layers have been removed. But after wearing it so long, the ghost feeling rarely leaves me.

‘’That’s not your job.’’ Peter suddenly stops pacing and stares as me incredulously, red in the face. Yes, that’s how much angry he is.

‘’All is fair in love and war, my dear king.’’ I reply kicking off one boot ‘’It’s not like I had much time to think.’’

My eyes immediately dart up to him as he’s nodding already ‘’Exactly!!! This is the exact same reason why I didn’t want you in the front lines. You are a good archer you should have kept to your strengths.’’ At this my eye twitches, once the second boot comes off.

I place my hands onto my knees and give him a hard look as he continues to glare at me. I don’t miss the cut over his eyebrow that looks unattended.

‘’My strengths?’’ I start trying to calm down my breathing, while he nods firmly crossing his arms still standing across me holding his distance ‘’You know I’m one of the bed swordswomen in Narnia. I’m a decent archer. And we both know where my strengths lie don’t demine me like that, Peter.’’ I hold my calm even though I am brewing with anger.

‘’Its not undermining you Y/N, there’s an unspoken but well-known reason why we won the first battle.’’ He snaps back, going completely cold as if I’m his enemy. It does sting the way he is treating me.

‘’I’m glad you are pointing that out. I should keep humble my deepest apologies sire, oh great High King is acknowledging the strategy that I came up with worked, and we’ve ended up victorious but oh no that is not enough! In return I’m receiving anger, frustration, brattiness and ah yes pride if I may be so bold to point out, your highness, may I suggest banishment as punishment?’’ The last part I practically hiss glaring at him, as he plops down onto a closed chest, to start undoing his own footwear. But he stops after the second word left my mouth, to stare at me as if I have grown two heads.

‘’One recent victory does not ensure a winning streak, even if you may have been blessed by lady luck itself. It is exactly the reason why we think before we act my lady and not the other way around.’’ he goes to angrily undo the laces, letting silence fall. Its odd given the tension that surrounds us. I glare at him for a moment longer, but avert my eyes onto the map and plan that’s laid on the table with chess like pieces on it. We are close to the giant’s stronghold, or what used to be a giant’s stronghold. As far as we know it’s all in ruin, and the once supposedly friendly giants are now unruly and pose a threat to Narnia. Hence the war, and our reason of being here, and the reason why we are arguing right now.

I sag back against the chair, placing my dagger that I have always on me on the table to get more comfortable. My sword I’m missing, the heavy but familiar feel of it being strapped over my waist and it resting over my right hip gone, as it has been handed over to the blacksmith to sharpen it for tomorrow.

Reaching forward with my right hand, I rearrange a few pieces up and down over the map. Even though we didn’t lose, we didn’t exactly end up victorious. Yes, a few giants fell but we’ve lost brave men as well. The events of today are catching up to me, my mind processing the imagines, sounds, smells, everything while my body is already feeling the consequences aching all over, limbs feeling heavy, small wounds prickling now and then, bruises I’m sure blossoming.

‘’Pete.’’ I find myself saying in a gentle tone, sparing him a glance while I play with a lion’s piece between my fingers of my right hand. He doesn’t look up to me, he continues to read a scroll instead which he took from the same chest he has sat himself on ‘’There’s a reason why Ed accepted me to join his council.’’ He doesn’t move at all, or indicates he’s acknowledging my words ‘’And why you’ve knighted me.’’ his eyes are still scanning the page ‘’I didn’t come to Cair Paravel, to wear dresses and mingle with people, Peter I came there…’’

‘’You came because you wanted to protect your country.’’ He interrupts expression void of emotions as he glares at me jaw setting tight once he stops speaking ‘’You came because you lost everything, and you don’t want anyone else to experience that. You were accepted because of your intellect, your skills and thirst for knowledge. You were promoted because you showed potential and passion. So why the fuck aren’t you using nether of all the things I’ve counted?’’ he’s cracking getting angrier again.

‘’Because my passion is what guided me.’’ I snap in return gripping onto the chess piece tightly as I match his stare which so many avoid and wish they would never experience. As much as the High King is beloved, is kind, generous, a good man, he can be hard and harsh with truth and justice when he needs to. And it’s those types who always smile, that are the most terrifying when anger steps in.

He opens his mouth to say something but I’m quick to add my own thoughts ‘’Call it blind devotion to my king…’’ he stands up looking imposing even though he’s across the tent ‘’…loyalty that knows no bounds…’’ I continue as he steps forward a calculating glint sparkling in his eyes ‘’…looking out for a fellow soldier in a life and death situation…’’ he’s getting very close and to be honest the way he is stoically holding himself its terrifying but I need to get this out of me before he can start going on about how wrong I am ‘’…or take it as someone who loves you, and wouldn’t be able to live a day without you, and wanting to simply protect you.’’ I blink quickly hating that these emotions are bubbling up so easily. I was so determined a second ago, ready to mouth him off to get my point across and now I’m getting scared with a mere thought of seeing him hurt or worse.

I bite onto my lower lip not wanting it to tremble. I bet my glossy eyes, give it all away thought hence why I avert my gaze, readjusting body language squaring my shoulders and sitting properly in front of my king who I won’t question with whatever punishment he is going to give me. His hand reaches forward, fingers calloused but gentle when they come in contact with my skin, the tug gentle as he has me lifting my head up to look at him his gaze already fixated onto me, face still void of emotions. But I can see his own eyes are glossy.

‘’I’m not mad because you protected my brother and me.’’ he speaks voice gentle giving me hope even though my thoughts turn pessimistic ‘’I’m scared that the next time you won’t be so lucky Y/N.’’ he admits surprising me genuinely. Anger I understand, specially his frustration with my actions. But fear? That’s puzzling because I feel it whenever he goes to war, or into uncertain situations. I know how that feels, and I barely can handle it. But I didn’t imagine he’d feel it ‘’I’m scared that…’’ his voice cracks, which has him averting his gaze and then suddenly kneeling down between my knees, taking both of my hands into his, his thumbs caressing my bruised knuckles gently.

‘’I’m scared that I’m going to lose you.’’ He admits eyes getting teary as he stares at me finally eye to eye ‘’That I won’t be there for you. You are an amazing warrior Y/N, you are. It’s why you’re so highly regarded. You must understand why it’s so frustrating when you act impulsively. I can’t lose you either. I can’t.’’ He leans forward arms going around me, as he rests his head in my lap.

I am completely speechless by this point, but automatically place my hands onto his head, slipping my fingers between his dirty blonde locks to scratch at his skull, while he tries to steady his breathing. It goes quiet once more, leaving us in dangerous waters; we are left with own thoughts.

‘’You can’t expect me to stay at Cair every time something goes wrong, especially if its life threatening. Its not in my nature to play politician, or stagiest. I want to defend my nation too. In as many ways as possible.’’ He pulls back, looking up at me sighing deeply. He doesn’t say anything in the beginning he just stares at me as if he is taking my features in trying to engrave everything into his brain. He looks so handsome…he always looks handsome. His eyes seem like two diamonds sparkling from the dimly lit torches carefully placed around the tent. He has a few light scratches on his cheeks, along his jaw and the small gash over his eyebrow which I’ll need to tend rather sooner than later. But no matter the scratches or bruises, he is still the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my life. After the horrors we’ve seen today and the anger that overtook him, he’s treating me like a flower, hands placed on the low of my back, fingers gently running in circles.

‘’So, it’s that why you throw yourself in front of your King every time there’s an ounce of danger in sight?!’’ he asks eyes not moving away from my own ‘’Is that one of the ways that you are protecting your nation?’’ I cannot read him, or what’s going through his head but knowing him for years, I have an idea and I want to smile because he is of course going into the wrong direction with his thoughts.

Lowering my hands from his hair, I caress his cheeks gently cupping them holding his head at a still waiting for anything to change in his expression for a moment. I wordlessly at first lean down, still watching him carefully, but he remains stoic as if he’s given up on something ‘’You could say that.’’ I start feeling how his shoulders sag in disappointment and I feel him wanting to pull away but I inch closer not allowing him ‘’But the truth is, king or not I’m in love with you.’’ Its almost comical how his eyes widen as he looks at me frozen on spot, eyes turning into a puppy look (kicked puppy).

‘’I’m not that chivalrous, I love my nation I want to protect it as best as I can. But I love you the most, Peter. High King, knight, emperor those are just titles that you’ve earned. Magnificent. You are all that, but that is not the man who I feel in love with. I feel in love with Peter Pevensie, the boy that became a man who took it upon himself to teach me a mere simpleton how to earn respect not with fists but with words.’’ Now his lower lip is trembling and I just want to kiss him all the more ‘’The man even though he has a nation to rule, takes his time out of his already always busy days to visit me, across the castle just to wish me good mornings, or good luck for meetings, or just to make sure I’ve eaten.’’ I pause leaning my head down, resting my forehead against his as he closes his eyes, so I press a kiss to his forehead ‘’That is why I did what I did. And I’ll gladly do it again. You are my whole life.’’

Ignoring the voice in my head that is shouting to be patient I lean down, pressing my lips against his slightly chapped ones. He sighs in relief and leans into it, hands holding onto my hips firmly as if he is steadying himself. Now it goes eerie quiet as I lean back a bit, hoping he doesn’t hear how my heart is beating in my chest.

I mean this isn’t the first time we’ve kissed, oh no we aren’t blushing virgins. But it’s the ‘I’m in love with you’ part that strikes a chord of course. It’s another level of intimacy as silly as it may sound to some. I’m not the one to just fall in love with someone. And yet, here he is having taken my heart, which I just practically handed to him.

‘’Y/N…’’ comes a sensual whisper making a shiver run down my spine, hands dropping to his shoulders a bit hesitant on what to do next. This can go two ways. Either he’s going to go about it the gentleman’s way and let me down easily, or…

Before I can finish the though he confirms the second idea by closing the distance, lips pressed firmer against my own, his tongue teasingly darting out across my lower lip, making me chuckle for some reason as he straightens up and inches closer my legs spreading wider to allow him to pull me closer to him, while our lips continue to dance along.

My fingers dig into the leather tunic he’s still wearing and I never despised it as much as I do now. I squeak when his hands go lower under my ass forcing me to jump up which he takes the chance to gather me in his arms and lifts me up. The kiss gets broken as I yelp in surprise but cling onto him, as he chuckles lips already on my neck.

‘’P-Peter!’’ I shout in disbelief as he drops my butt on the table taking the chance of my distraction to bite me, for sure leaving a mark behind. A few more delighted chuckles later he straightens up, looking at me gleefully hands readjusting over my things to hold then elevated, and my legs spread wide open.

‘’Yes, my love?’’ he plays innocent eyes showing hunger.

‘’Don’t do that, I could have fallen.’’ I complain half-heartedly glaring at him taking in his tunic as I avert my gaze, while crossing my arms.

‘’I would never drop you.’’ He eagerly leans in not sounding sorry, but does playfully rub his nose against mine even though I’m averting my gaze ‘’I would never drop you.’’ He nudges me hands resting over my forearms now as he gently tugs at them, but I remain stubborn ‘’My love I’m sorry, I won’t do that again.’’ he tries and that’s obviously a lie which has me smirking and glancing at him even though I want to remain serious to provoke him further.

‘’We both know that’s not the truth.’’ I point out, his hands tugging my own away to reach away.

‘’Are you calling me a liar?’’ he chuckles wrapping my arms around his neck, his own falling down to reach the hem of the big light blue tunic that I’m wearing. It’s actually his I just took one of his belts to make it look more presentable in front of the others this morning; given that my own tent lies across the camp.

‘’Yes.’’ I agree genuinely which has him grinning ear to ear and actually laughing for a moment, while I drop my hands, going for the side of the tunic, wanting to undo all the bounds that are keeping the offensive clothing on him ‘’Why did you have to wear this awful, awful thing. Ugh.’’ I groan in frustration as I create more knots than undo them. He remains grinning, watching as I struggle for a bit. Glancing up at him, I just tug at the buttons and strings harshly, the buttons falling down some landing on the table even.

‘’It’s actually my favourite tunic. Or well was.’’ He states to which I gently hit him over his chest. It has him gasping rather dramatically, but the grin he is sporting tell me everything.

‘’Liar again. I’m wearing your favourite tunic.’’ I continue opening his garment, reaching the last button that for some reason just won’t let me undress him, meanwhile I can see with the corner of my eyes the way he is musing eyes greedily taking me in, even though his shirt is like a sack on me. Comfortable one may I add.

Leaning in he presses a kiss to my cheek lips ghosting over to my ear ‘’I do like it yes, but I prefer it when it’s not necessarily on you.’’ His words have me just tearing the button away finally letting the fabric fall open to reveal the undershirt and more importantly more skin, his collarbones looking inviting for me to mark them up.

‘’Finally.’’ I state still frustrated tugging the damn clothing off but he isn’t cooperating with me ‘’Be more truthful and take this off too.’’

He raises an eyebrow ‘’How is that being more truthful?’’ he asks and yeah, I know it doesn’t make any sense but his playfulness is only raising my frustration, to which I groan and pout giving him the puppy eyes, my hands weakly tugging at the bottom of the tunic.

‘’I want it off.’’ I admit a bit whiny but as long as he’s smiling, I have nothing to complain about, even less when he starts to tug the damn thing of finally. Praise every entity thank you.

‘’So, demanding.’’ He mumbles to which I raise an eyebrow motioning with my hand for him to continue as there’s one more shirt left to go.

‘’You don’t know the half of it.’’ I chuckle leaning back on both hands briefly, just watching and taking it all in as he finally takes the shirt off and is left bare. For my eyes only. My hands are quick to reach forward, fingers tracing the lines and ridges of his abs and muscles, feeling healed up scars here and there.

‘’I see you’re enjoying yourself.’’ He muses hands reaching to rest over my hips once more as I scoot closer to the end of the table. So, I smirk in return letting my nails run over his skin, leaving faint red marks in my wake which has him quirking an eyebrow especially when, they go lower and lower reaching for something that’s been pressing against my thigh for some time.

‘’Hmm I am. Very much so.’’ I reply satisfied not missing the way his muscles tense up once my fingers trace him properly, starting to run up and down gently over his clothed length.

‘’It’s a little bit unfair that you are still fully clothed when I am not.’’ he points out making me chuckle even more so when he takes a step back but leaves his hands on the table next to me, meaning he’s leaning forward so I can kiss him if I want too. But touching comes to a momentary halt.

‘’I don’t see anything being unfair at all, my king.’’ I tease hands resting over my knees ‘’I’m completely satisfied for now. But…’’ I let my hands run slowly upwards my thighs which his eyes immediately follow after ‘’As a member of the Just Court, I see the problem in your complaint, and acknowledge that it needs to be levelled to fair play.’’ I slide my hands under the big shirt that is covering my thighs, conveniently hiding away what my fingers are doing which reflect on the way his eyebrows furrow smile disappearing, as his eyes meet my own again.

‘’You aren’t playing fair at all my lady.’’ He complains as I lean in closer undoing the buttons, one by one keeping him waiting.

‘’You haven’t specified what exactly is the problem that you are having, your highness you’ve only expressed there’s a problem in the lack off clothing on my part.’’ I play innocent and slide off the table. He remains unmoving, except for his eyes that wander over the expanse of my collarbones that are exposed, and my legs, as my pants come undone.

‘’So, you took it upon yourself to correct this, but in another way which you know would not please me?’’

At that I on purposefully lean forward and let the pants fall to my knees. I lick my lips slowly his eyes following my tongue until I’m leaning back bracing myself on the table, and raising up onto it, kicking the pants off ‘’Oh is my king not satisfied?’’ I fake surprise cupping his face again ‘’What ever shall I do to correct my foolish ways?’’ at this he snorts amused but clearly losing patience.

‘’You are the worst.’’ He mumbles but finally steps forward arms wrapping themselves around me as he ducks his head to kiss the side of my neck, but remains there simply lingering kisses which start to get messier, but in the best kind of way, calming me down, until I’m whining unable to hold myself back. He’s not the only one that is losing patience.

‘’W-we both know that you don’t m-mean that...mmmmhmmm…’’ I end up moaning as he finds that sweet spot that makes me tingle all over for a brief moment.

‘’My mind can be changed.’’ He replies drawing a smile on my lips once more, as I bury my fingers into his hair tugging gently which gets him to let out a groan, that has me feeling hot all over, excitement practically bubbling in my stomach.

‘’Peter.’’ I gasp out sensually which has him looking up in worry for a moment, until I attack him that’s the fine way of saying it, the way I kiss him. His grip gets tight again, just the way I like it while his hips are comfortably nestled between my legs. It isn’t too long until tongues get involved, and the fight for dominance begins. But I let him win, guiding the kiss however he wants it because half of my concentration goes onto my hands, which are quite shamelessly reaching for the buttons of his pants. I can feel when he smiles into the kiss, breaking it as a result a breathless chuckle filling the quiet air.

‘’You are full of tricks.’’ He points out as I undo his pants, tugging them down with an urge.

‘’I just know what I want.’’ I reply, as his hands replace my own.

‘’And what is that my fair lady?’’ he asks now rid of the pants a teasing smirk on his lips.

‘’You.’’ I simply reply taking his right hand and guiding it under the shirt I still have on, to have him feel how soaked my undergarments have become. His smile disappears, fingers moving on their own as he feels me, making me gasp as he touches me, pressing into the thin fabric to feel my wetness.

‘’How do you want me, my queen?’’ I quirk an eyebrow at the new title he has given me, but tease him further by buckling my hips encouraging him to touch me more, guiding his hand to touch me without barriers which he does eagerly so. My mouth falls slightly more open a gasp finding its way past my lips as with my free hand I grab onto his shoulder, our faces now inches away from one another, eyes darting now and then to each other’s lips, and yet we don’t collide. Yet.

‘’Exactly like this, my king.’’ I reply quietly, as his rough fingers brush over my clit. It has my body twitching briefly, until the second firmer brush has me leaning my forehead against his as he adjusts his hand the shirt riding up revealing my undergarments to his eyes and part of my stomach, while his fingers explore more running down my lower lips tracing everything, spreading my wetness along.

‘’Are you sure? You are hurting from the fight you need to b…’’ I shut him up by kissing him, conveying my need to him through the kiss, while also mewling at the way he plays with my clit, making me go crazy even more. I want him so bad ‘’Shhhhhh.’’ He hushes me gently making me whine louder as he stops moving his hand for a moment ‘’We wouldn’t want any unwanted ears hearing us, now would we?’’ he asks me slowly so my brain can comprehend his words. I nod slowly earning a satisfied smile in return fingers slowly moving making circular motions ‘’Good girl.’’ He praises me, a blush quickly hitting my cheeks.

My mouth falls open in a breathless gasp, while I stare directly at him, feeling his finger slowly entering me, his own face mimicking sort of wonder. Letting out a shaky breath he proceeds to press gentle kisses to my cheek, my nose, my lips while slowly tugging his finger in and out ‘’You are doing amazing my queen. Taking me in so well, so tight for me, and wet.’’ His words are encouraging making me tighten up, just as he pushes a second finger in, the sensation way better than when I use my own fingers. All bets are off, when he uses his thumb to circle my clit. I bite hard into my lower lip trying my hardest not to just cry out from the madness of pleasure that he is instigating in me. He lets me rest my head against his shoulder clearly enjoying the state that he has reduced me into.

‘’That’s it, my love that’s it you are doing amazing, my beautiful queen.’’ he starts saying sweet nothings between the kisses he litters over the right side of my neck this time, leaving a mark here and there and while he remains calm and collected I am loosing it way quicker than usually. His fingers just feel so good and the way he’s brushing my clit has my thighs soon trembling and my hold on him is probably borderline harsh, but he hasn’t complained about it yet ‘’…you are so gorgeous my love, doing so amazing, I bet you’ll feel even better once I enter you properly…’’

‘’Ah Peter…’’ I whimper eyes closing to a shut as they roll to the back of my head, toes curling, thighs starting to properly shake.

‘’Are you close, my queen?’’ he sounds very complacent.

‘’Y-Yeah, p-please don’t stop-p…’’ I manage to get it out with my right hand grabbing onto the edge of the table while with my left I grab onto his shoulder and hold myself up while he actually listens to me and doesn’t tease, just speeds up perfectly.

‘’That’s it gorgeous.’’ He encourages calmly, my vision starting to become white at first until stars start to explode under my eyelids, as he’s giving me everything I want and more ‘’Cum for me Y/N. I want to see my gorgeous queen, blossom.’’

I bite onto my lips again, toes and fingers curling, legs raising but not closing as he’s the barrier. I let sanity slip from my grasp welcoming in the explosion, and galaxy of wonder and bliss wash over, rendering me a trembling and crying mess which he muffles with a hand over my mouth. Not romantic but given the circumstances I don’t mind it.

‘’Whoah there gorgeous, I’ve got you; I’ve got you.’’ He reassures me, simply holding me tenderly, hands caressing my back as I’m practically slumped over him once my high starts to calm down ‘’You did so amazing my love, so beautiful, you are so astonishing. I love you.’’ At the last words my heart literally skips a beat but I’ve gained enough brain cells to move. Attempt to move.

‘’Pete…’’ I breathe, wrapping my arms around his neck as he still holds me, and fondly looks at me which just is too much for my heart to handle ‘’I want you.’’ I find myself saying and again blushing harder.

‘’So straight forward.’’ he chuckles faintly, as I inch closer to the edge, one hand reaching down to touch his cock, still hidden but it has him chocking briefly, stopping my hand ‘’Y/N just give yourself a moment to breathe my love…’’ I interrupt him with a hungry kiss.

‘’C’mon Peter, I need you in me right now.’’ I demand practically wanting to buckle my hips against him, but the way I’m sitting isn’t working out well ‘’I’m fine, I just really need you right now.’’ I continue with urgency. His resolve doesn’t last long as I thought it would. He kisses me roughly once more, forcing me to lean backwards holding me up as he is quick to push everything off the desk, the map the figurines the books, scouts’ reports, to the ground not caring as he lays me down, hands cupping my face as he stops to admire me. My dagger clatters to the floor once my back properly hits the wooden surface.

‘’I love you. So, so much.’’ he admits quietly words holding a huge heaviness to them. In his eyes I can read that he really means them, and I myself know how the struggle of so many emotions or how strong they can be and overwhelm you, how hard and sometimes impossible it is to portray them with words. Its why they say actions speak louder than words.

‘’I love you too, infinitely.’’ I whisper in return accepting the slower but more passionate kiss. My breath hitches from anticipation once he briefly moves away, but doesn’t break the kiss apart. He tugs me forward so that my ass if half hanging from the edge of the table, but I know he won’t let me fall. I wrap my legs gladly around him, gasping silently once I feel the tip of his cock nudge against my lower lips. Its he who breaks the kiss, looking down between us meanwhile I keep staring at him, at the concentration written all over his features. So, I let him be, enjoying the sensation of the head of his cock prodding and then entering me, and the feeling of fulness as he enters slowly filling me up, having me aching but not from pain but from need. He looks gorgeous, slightly concentration tugging his features, but at the same time it all unravels the more he enters me.

‘’Oh fffaaaaaa…’’ he gasps once he’s fully in, eyes shut tightly closed as he just stays there leaning over me on his elbows, caging me in. I let my hands roam over his torso again, raising upwards to press fleeting kisses to his cheeks, but end up pressing pecks on his lips until I get tired and just lie there smiling at him, with adoration. Experimentally I clench around him to which he tips his head to the side, opening his eyes to glare at me.

‘’Take me, my king. I’m all yours.’’ I whisper reaching down to tug the belt and tunic off, making quick work of getting rid of the tight restrain over my breasts. So, I’m left equally undressed like him, which clearly captures his attention for the moment being.

‘’Fuck you are so gorgeous.’’ He breathes out, leaning down to capture a nipple between his pillow-y lips, at the same time he experimentally pulls out and pushes himself back in, the moan that was about to leave from my throat gets chocked. His eyes peek up at me, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips while his tongue darts out making me shudder, once he circles it around the perk numb, his other hand pinching the other nipple. It has me arching my back, this sort of body shiver shaking me up, the whole idea and picture before me surreal but so fucking arousing.

My mouth falls open, once he starts to rock his hips, gently and slowly but the sensation is still out of this world. He fills me up completely but not in an uncomfortable way, and the way his dick is curved has already tingles going off across my skin.

‘’So tight…’’ he groans once he speeds up control finally slipping. I grab onto his biceps as he has himself prompted onto his elbows still ‘’…ugh Y/N…’’ he gasps breathing out hard, as my fingers dig into his skin.

‘’So good…’’ I breathe out, eyes shutting close as I let go of him with one hand to reach down. He’s quicker though, surprising me by grabbing both of my wrists roughly and forces my arms above my head, pining me back down against the table hard. But it’s nothing I can’t handle, given that a few hours ago I was…alright let’s not go into gore and death and all that.

‘’Not so fast, gorgeous.’’ He states looking cocky, slamming his hips into mine making me groan as getting too loud will alert others outside. He is the High King he has personal guards no matter what occasion outside and even inside Cair Paravel ‘’You’re mine to protect…’’ he says firmly slowing down but he emphasises his words with harder thrusts ‘’…mine to look over…’’ another muffled groan ‘’…mine to cherish…’’ he leans lower easily holding both my hands with only one of his (because I’m letting him) ‘’…mine to love…’’ his tone turns more sensual, as he ghosts his lips over my left cheek, eyes trained onto my own ‘’…all mine to spoil…’’ his lips quirk into a wider smile ‘’…and all mine to ruin.’’ He growls at the end, hand grabbing down to steady me by my hip as best as he can as he pulls almost all the way out, leaving me in a whiny state. He doesn’t give me the time to be vocal about it, as his hands suddenly makes a detour over my mouth, while simultaneously he slams back in. My back on its own arches off the table, my hands flying upwards to latch onto the edge of the table to hold on for dear life, as the pace he sets it isn’t fast but its brutal and deep in all the right ways, that bring tears to my eyes instantly, vision briefly blurring.

‘’Fuh…fuk..ahh…ohh…’’ half chocked sounds keep leaving my throat as I can’t even assemble a proper sentence or what I want to say in my brain, let alone a coherent word to actually form. I barely can keep my eyes open, the sight just frying every brain cell because Peter looks fucking magnificent as I take him in.

He is covered in sweat, gold locks sticking to his forehead, but also the way the sweat is dripping down his skin, in this moment I would even lick it off. I want to trace my fingers over his muscular arms, fell the muscles tense, as well as his abs that have me tilting my head. My eyes follow his happy trail, and even though I can’t see us being connected I fucking feel it, and it’s burning at the rest of my sanity.

Its when he leans slightly forward again, readjusting his stance one hand reaching up to hold the table preventing it from moving further ahead, and with the other he reaches for my clit that’s been neglected this whole time that is when its game over. I clench up immediately, nails digging into the wood of the table, body tensing like a violin chord ready to snap at any moment, as electricity courses through me.

‘’Are you close, my queen?’’ he asks breathless smirking as I immediately start nodding, holding in a yelp once he starts moving his fingers over my clit in a circular motion. Without warning I feel like I get hit over by a train. Everything is weightless, I have no care in the world whatever happens it doesn’t matter, I am surrounded by nothingness in the best way possible. Its Peter’s grunt, warmth and weight of his body pressing on me that has me opening my eyes to look at the mop of blonde hair, as he lays over me, head resting over my chest.

For a moment I try to collect my breathing, remember how to do that in the first place actually. Unbending my fingers figuring how to work them follows. They’ve become kind of cramped up as my grip tight on the wood was too hard. Briefly stretching them, I start to run them up his back ignoring the sweat, to just caress him. I can feel his seed leaking out from me, but he hasn’t even bothered to pull out yet. I don’t mind it. In this moment I don’t mind anything at all.

As long as he’s safe and sound, unharmed I’m okay with anything, even the back pain that will probably follow but I can live with that. After all tomorrow is going to be soon, and I need my A game, to protect my king again on the battlefield.

I’m pleasantly surprised once I feel a gentle kiss that he presses under my jaw. And the next one that follows I just sigh and hum content, giggling as he continues to trail kisses upwards my neck again but this time less aggressive than the first time. He presses one last peck over the corner of my lips and then raises up to look at me properly ‘’You okay?’’ he asks gently, readjusting his body a bit so he can trail his hand over my cheek.

‘’I’m more than okay.’’ I reply slightly too eager in return. But he doesn’t say anything on it just leans in to kiss me, tongue not shying away.

He’s too quick to break the kiss, and I’m on the verge of turning into a brat but he just moves higher to rest his forehead against my own ‘’Ready for round…’’

‘’Your majesty may I come inside; we’ve received urgent news.’’ Comes an urgent voice from the outside making us both glance behind him, where the tent entrance is but luckily nobody steps through. Glancing up I meet Peter’s eyes again and I think we’re both having same thoughts ‘’Your majesty?’’

‘’Give me a moment.’’ Peter replies calmly like the king he always is, but leans down to quickly devour me, biting onto my lower lip once he breaks away ‘’This isn’t over.’’

‘’Definitely not over.’’

#peter pevensie smut #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie x reader #Smut #narnia smut #narnia #narnia fanfiction #chronicles of narnia

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serararku · 3 years

Text

The Writhing Prize

This was the first time Mizuna had to actively work alongside a blind woman, which brought its own host of unique challenges.

Truth be told, Dawn probably wasn’t the easiest woman to work with before she lost her sight. Even in the best of moods she was easily agitated and quick to anger, and it wouldn’t take much to get on her bad side. She could walk around the clinic without the use of her outstretched hands just after a few weeks, memorizing how many steps she needed to take to get around easily enough, but all it took was Mizuna forgetting to push in a chair or rearrange a table near the wall to upset the blonde she-devil. After the third or fourth time she stubbed her toe on the leg of furniture, Mizuna felt she had no other choice but to buy soft covers to prevent Dawn from hurting herself. It was also impossible to tell if she was sleeping or awake, and more often than not Mizuna suspected Dawn would pretend to rest so she could listen in on her conversations during her many checkups.

Every tincture, remedy, elixir, potion, cupboard and drawer had two labels each- one in Doman prepared by Mizuna, and the other in Braille by Dawn. The fear of Dawn using the wrong medicine for the job and seriously injuring or even killing a patient compelled the Auri to learn the language of the blind in order to ensure she could double-check the Braille to make sure they remained accurate. On the other hand, if Mizuna needed something fetched- and she hadn’t left it where it wasn’t supposed to be- Dawn always knew exactly where to go to find it. Losing her sight seemed to sharpen her other senses as well, giving her an uncanny sense of smell, touch, taste, and hearing; she could smell an infected wound minutes before Mizuna did, applied stitches just as good as the best of them, and could rattle off the ingredients of a potion with a simple taste of a single droplet. Mizuna also theorized Dawn could listen in on conversations going on beyond the clinic’s walls- why else would she zone out so often?

Despite Dawn’s volatile temper and spiteful nature- at least from Mizuna’s perspective, she couldn’t help but watch and study her associate as she went about her duties. It had only been a few moons since her grievous injury but she had long discarded the few habits just about everyone else would easily overlook; when she read from her braille book, she no longer tilted her head to point her glazed eyes down at the pages, because she no longer needed to. Instead Mizuna would watch her silently mouth the words as if she was reading out loud, her delicate hand brushing across the dotted parchment a dozen times before she would turn to the next page. She wouldn’t even turn her head toward the person she was speaking to- unless she was angry. Mizuna would often deliberately wear different types of shoes to see if hearing her approach would throw her off, but she always knew it was her.

“Mizuna? We need to have a talk.” dreadful words escaped the woman’s lips. Words no one ever wants to hear and inspires anxiety even in the most aloof personalities. Mizuna stiffened in her seat, her attention yanked away from a particularly raunchy romance novel she had borrowed from one of Lord Isenhart’s students.

She braced herself for the topic at play, silently praying to Azim the Dawn Father that she wasn’t going to bring up her untimely outburst in Ul’dah again. “Yes? I’m listening.”

“Mn? Well, it’s Osric.” she held up a vial full of black goo that Mizuna swore was writhing and squirming in her grasp. “I managed to extract this from him, from what I can gather it’s parasitic and while not immediately toxic, it’s not doing him any favors. I sense something sinister from this, like… like the thing that took my sight.”

The more everyone brought up that encounter up north in the Coerthas Highlands, the happier Mizuna was for missing out. “Disgusting.” She blurted out, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow at the vial. “Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s natural. But if that’s what was causing Osric so many problems, it seems you already took care of it, yes…?”

“From what I can tell, I managed to forcibly extract half of it. I have a plan for a procedure but I wanted a second opinion. Seeing as this is using him as some kind of host, I figured making him inhospitable might be enough to make it want to leave- but not only just that, we should have bait for it to want to leave on top of that.”

Mizuna slowly nodded, doing her best to keep pace with this wild conversation. “We don’t know what this thing is. It could be a parasite, or a curse. Or maybe some voidsent illness that could react poorly if we tamper with it further.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms; whatever Dawn was planning, she didn’t like it. Fumbling around in the dark is Dawn’s specialty, after all. “Let’s hear the rest of it.”

Dawn continued to explain her plan, “I managed to mix in some essence of nightshade and belladonna into a concoction that is just below lethal levels of toxicity, it should render him into a near-death state. Slowed heart rate, lowered body temperature, by all means it would appear that he was dead, even to his little guest. Then I can use some dark-aspected aether to draw it out, the same type of aether that the monstrosity had when we fought it- assuming the infectious thing came from that monster.”

“No.” Mizuna’s face hardened into a scowl. “Even if you managed to figure out Osric’s tolerance to nightshade, even if this thing behaves like you assume, and even with you casually mentioning dark aether, it’s still a far cry from a reliable plan. Nothing ever goes according to plan… and if our gamble deviates even a little bit, Osric will die. There has to be another way…”

Dawn knitted her brow, “And while we’re grasping at hopes and dreams this is the closest thing to a reliable plan. Measured and weighed. I have experience extracting this thing before. I’m glad you’re all for criticism but I’m not sure you trivializing things makes anything any better- did you have a better plan? Time is against us.”

The Raen seemed taken aback, seemingly ignoring her question entirely. “Dawn… you can control dark aether…?”

Seemed entirely annoyed by Mizuna’s question. “If I couldn’t manage the plan, do you think I would’ve proposed it?” she brought out a necklace from her shirt, a small crystal glistened. “I’m borrowing this from a friend.” With her other hand she sparked a brilliant purple hue of aether, small specks gently floating to the floor like dark snowflakes.

Mizuna once thought she understood this woman. She believed her ability to use her own life force to empower her aether was the darkest secret she kept, but this was something else entirely. Swallowing dryly, her eyes darted from the crystal in one hand, and the umbral aether in the other; her stomach twisted into a knot, and she suddenly felt lightheaded. “Alright…” She muttered out before quickly clearing her throat. “If you’re absolutely sure you can control this… then we should consult with Osric to get his consent for this procedure.” Mizuna nervously ran her hand through her hair while shifting in her seat. “What do we plan to do with this creature once we’ve successfully removed it from his body?”

“Collect it in a vial for further research. I know how it affects him in the short term, we don’t know what lasting damage it could leave. Even if the dark aspected aether doesn’t work, we have the other half and might use it to attract what’s left…. Are you okay, you’re moving around more than usual. I know this isn’t normal but desperate times call for desperate measures, Mizuna.”

“I’m just surprised, is all…” Once again she forgot about that razor-sharp hearing. “I’ve only known Black Magi and Necromancers with the ability to manipulate dark-aether. It’s… not something anyone can just pick up.” Mizuna pursed her lips and straightened in her seat. “Alright then… shall we ring him up right now? Or should we wait to do this on the morrow?”

Dawn sighed, “Or Dark Knights. Anyway, that’s why I asked for a second opinion. I know you’re skeptical but I wanted to know if you felt it was doable… I feel confident but… I’d feel better if I knew you checked the dosage and saw some sort of sense in my plan. But if you don’t… maybe it’s better that we just scrap this idea altogether…”

She scraped her nails along the scales on her wrists as she sat on her thoughts for a moment. She didn’t know how to answer this without bruising Dawn’s confidence in her plan, but lying hasn’t exactly helped their relationship in the past. Begrudgingly, she ultimately went with honesty.

“I’m terrified of dark aether.” Mizuna paused just long enough to gauge Dawn’s reaction. “I’ve never once heard or seen it used as a form of healing. It’s out of my expertise, unfortunately, so I honestly don't know what to think of this plan. But…” She leaned forward and rested her chin on her palms to keep her hands busy without making needless noise. “If you’re confident this will work, I will follow your lead. I know you have Osric’s best interests in mind, so… I’ll trust you to lead this operation. Just tell me what to do and keep me in the loop, okay?”

“The aether is a lure. Aside from that, we’ll be using typical conjury and good old fashioned medical knowledge.” she tried to assure Mizuna. “I think we should do this as soon as possible. If you think it’s manageable. If my plan doesn’t work, we’ll need to be quick on our feet and think of another method. Otherwise we’re back at square one and tearing him open again for no reason.” Mizuna’s brow cocked at that veiled insult; that foreign object she pulled from the Dragoon’s chest was dangerously close to his heart, and she still felt justified in removing it. Instead of inciting another argument, she decided to let this one slide.

After sharply inhaling, Mizuna reached up and pressed her thumb against her temple, activating her linkpearl. “This is Mizuna Kusakari, requesting two volunteers to bring Sir Osric Slater to the operation room immediately. Requesting two volunteers to bring Sir Osric Slater to the operation room. If he isn’t in the downstairs bar, he will be in his apartment, over.”

Another nap on another couch - Osric groaned as he sat up, the message waking him from one of the rare moments of quality sleep that he’d been able to have in recent weeks. With a tired sigh he pushed himself up off the couch, taking a moment to steady himself before making his way towards the clinic - still barely half awake.

“No need for an escort...I was right downstairs.” Osric declared, taking a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Message said I was needed in the operation room?”

Mizuna gave him a gentle smile while she pushed her chair out and rose to her feet. “Yes… Dawn-... we have a plan to cure you once and for all, but it’s… a tad unorthodox. We wanted to explain it to you before we began, is that okay with you?”

“I… explained the gist of it to him earlier today… But I wanted to delay until I got a second opinion. Can you double check the tincture?” Dawn added. “I’m confident… like I said, but I’d rather not let my certainty risk Osric’s well-being.” Potions made with the essence of nightshade aren’t something one should underestimate; a single drop too much could be the difference between a deep slumber... and a permanent one. Mizuna had to reach way back in her memory to recall her experience with alchemy for this one. She poured just enough of the contents into her hand and rubbed it between her now stained fingers, checking both the quality and consistency of this nightshade tincture.

The man in question looked between the two women, loosely crossing his arms over his chest. “She did explain a majority of what she wanted to do - if you’re both in agreement then I’m fine with it. Mira had the right of it earlier - well, mostly right. I can tolerate the pain, but the sleep issues are going to lead to more issues down the road. If the two of you can remove this thing, I trust you both to remove it.” He gave a tired sigh. “I get the sense that either it’s addressed, or it gets significantly worse - and I’d prefer not to find out what that looks like.”

“Then we don’t have much time to sit around.” Mizuna pushed the cork back down onto Dawn’s nightshade tincture. “I’m going to prepare the operating room… it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.” And with that, the Raen woman stepped out of the lobby, and disappeared behind the thick curtain on the other side of the room.

“Well, best case scenario you wake up and we’ll have been successful; worst case, and it’s suddenly not your problem anymore.” Dawn said in a grim tone. “It’s going to start taking a toll. I’m sure it already has. Take a seat until the room is ready…”

Osric reached up and rubbed the center of his chest, exhaling sharply before sitting down as directed. Anxiety wasn’t something that he typically struggled with, but the idea of being in a ‘near-death’ state was a bit nerve wracking. He laced his hands together - primarily to stop the shaking while he tried to think of something else… anything else - but his attention was drawn to the sound of movement behind the curtain.

That unaccustomed anxiety crept in as time itself seemed to dilate - the moment prolonging and speeding up at the same time. A reassuring hand rested on Osric’s shoulder which grounded him in the moment. He wasn’t sure whether seconds or minutes had passed, as it was difficult to keep his mind away from this imminent procedure; but when he looked up at Dawn’s soft lips and sloped jawline, he found the strength he needed to steal his nerves and keep his worries in check.

“Alright, we’re ready to proceed.” Mizuna gently called out, causing Osric’s stomach to drop into his lap.

“Let’s go inside.” a wispy tone drifted from Dawn as she softly yet firmly pulled at his shirt sleeve.

“R-right.” Shaking hands ran over his face as he stood, stumbling forward as a sharp pain rocked through his chest - as if the damn thing knew what was about to happen. Another moment to breathe through the discomfort, and he was able to turn his attention back to Dawn. “After you…”

The room was dimly lit- not exactly what he expected to see in the heart of the Ashen Wolves’ clinic. Only a handful of candles sat on empty shelves and on top of vacant cupboards, with the large rectangular table beckoning him closer, pastel white as everything else. Mizuna was flicking the tip of a syringe and squeezing out any potential air bubbles when Dawn and Osric pulled aside the curtain to join her.

“Take your shirt off.” commanded the blind woman, before exchanging a few utterances with Mizuna. The Dragoon swallowed dryly but complied, gripping the bottom of his shirt with both hands to pull it over his head in one single motion. The same reassuring touch from earlier found his shoulder when he lowered himself onto the edge of the table. Dawn peered blankly in his direction while pulling his hand up by the wrist, “Here…” she handed him a vial, smiling warmly. “You’ll be sleepy, and it’ll be over before you know it. You’ll be dreaming and everything will be fine.” Osric wanted to be relieved by her kind words, but he was no fool; he may not feel any pain with this medicine coursing through his system, true, but he would definitely know what was happening. Manipulating a living person’s aether was never a comfortable endeavor. A furtive glance went to her as Osric inspected the vial. It was now or never, and he already said he trusted them. It was now a matter of following through. He was getting cold feet despite what he told them- going under and leaving everything to them was easier said than done. After removing the cork, a shaking hand guided the contents to his lips.

It tasted far worse than he expected.

“Lay down.” Mizuna moved to help Dawn rest the Dragoon’s body against the table, almost letting him slam down when she lost her grip due to his waning consciousness. The potion was quick, and effective, but so were the effects’ longevity; now the race against time began. A finger ran along the scar on his chest that she created the first time to partly remove the affliction; “Mizuna,” Dawn spoke, “Can you make an incision here over the same area, I’d rather not create another scar unless necessary…”

“Just breathe, Ric. Close your eyes and count to ten.” Mizuna reached over to hold his head steady. Osric looked up at her face, seeing the colors bleed and tear like a dripping painting, and before he knew it, his sight was gone.

Tha-thump! Tha-thump…! Tha… thump….! … tha… thump...

“Fifteen minutes until we pull him back. Let me know if we start losing him.” Mizuna ordered, flicking her wrist to unroll the sterilized surgical tools. She took a piece of antiseptic dressing and rubbed his chest clean, before tracing her fingernail along the thin scar and holding the skin down. “Okay… here we go.”

Dawn kept a hand along his neck, feeling for a faintest of pulses. His core temperature seemed to be dropping as well, just as planned. His slowing circulation would also slow and stem the loss of blood, especially if they managed to avoid nicking any arteries. Mizuna ran her knife down the scar and cut through his chest like it was the first stroke of a painting. Just as she expected, the slowed heart rate kept blood from making a huge mess; a cut this deep would have sprayed the woman’s face in almost any other situation. While she worked her magic figuratively, Dawn went at it literally; she removed her necklace and wrapped the chain of it around her hand, holding the soul crystal tightly within her palm. She drew from its deeply embedded and fathomless aether, her eyes glowing a bright blue as she examined Osric’s form; now she could see Osric- the real Osric, his silhouette shimmering and brimming with life against the backdrop of absolute darkness. Her plan was to use the stone’s aether to convert to her own life force, and then use it as fuel to see the aether around her. Beneath the myriad of dancing colors and twinkling lights she saw it- a black parasite slithering about in liquid form through his chest cavity. A burst of purple aether fought to escape her fist, exuding dark aether as she held it above his incision.

“Come on…” Dawn goaded the infestation, “Come get it…” she continued.

The infection didn’t seem to move, but instead embedded itself deeper into his chest and around his heart as if to preserve itself as best it could.

“It’s… it’s not taking the bait…” Dawn said with a tone riddled of reserved distress.

Mizuna shot Dawn a glare, and in between bated breaths she said, “Describe what it’s doing.”

“It’s… wrapping itself around his heart, as if it’s… trying to keep itself warm or… tie itself to his vital functions. Either it’s trying to preserve itself through basic biology or it’s trying to keep us from extracting it- both are dangerous implications…” she reached for another vial she kept on her person, the other half of the parasite squirming within. Her hand trembled as she stared at the object in her grasp, bright blue eyes slowly shifted to regard Mizuna. “I think I have a plan…”

“Spit it out, we’re running out of time.”

“Self-preservation… that’s what’s motivating it. I have half of it right here, and if we give it a more suitable host than it has right now…” her eyes darted back to the thing around Osric’s heart. She brought the vial up to her lips and smirked.

Mizuna hissed at the woman, her scowl twisting into a grimace. “Stop! What are you doing?!” She almost leapt across the table and grabbed Dawn’s hand. “Your aether is fading enough already- and you’re the only one who can remove it!”

Her thumbnail pressed against the cork, ready to pop the top off any second. “If you don’t have a better idea here in the next few seconds, this is the only thing I can imagine might work. My internal aether manipulation is clearly better than Osric’s, and if I bring this thing into myself, it will attract the other half out of pure survival instinct. A healthy host, making itself whole again- Do you have a better plan?”

“The greatest surgeon in the world can’t operate on themself. If this thing latches onto you, it won’t ever let go until you’re killed.”

“Then you’ll have to remove it for me. Or I live with it and control it better than Osric can, we don’t have many options here and the clock is ticking.”

Mizuna swallowed hard before speaking. “Give me the vial. I’ll be the host.”

“You have ten seconds to explain to me why that’s a better idea and why you’d be a better host.” Dawn shot at her.

The woman shot Osric a worried glance- his eyelids were flickering and his fingers were twitching; this parasite was wrapped around his heart and hindering it from beating. “Because I’m healthier. My aether is perfectly normal- which means we buy everyone more time if I take it. You will be unhindered to remove it from me, and Osric can recover enough to help us. You’ve shaved epochs from your life already- this one last sacrifice may use up what’s left.”

“... Why waste a full life when you have a fraction of one right here?... Bottoms up.” she popped off the top and drank the contents. She heaved and retched a couple times, her free hand grasping at her throat. She gasped for air but found no purchase as she struggled to swallow down the ichor. After pounding at her chest and forcibly swallowing, she found herself grounded enough to focus and do what needed to be done. She took the soul crystal in her left and used it as a rudimentary blade to carve into her other hand, creating an open wound. She brought the hand onto Osric’s laceration and watched- the infestation kept still on his heart for the longest moment before twitching and loosening its grip. It now swam across his chest to reunite with its other half.

Her associate watched helplessly from the other side of the table, her face deadpanned as she seethed. It was too late to do anything about it now, so she was forced to go along with it.

“Ugh… Hng… Nng!” she sounded out as she felt the infestation slide through her wound. The other half seemed to be aware of what had transpired and directly tied itself to Dawn’s heart as well. This answered her question as to whether there was true intelligence or purely an instinct for survival driving the infection. The two were simply halves of a whole disconnected.

Mizuna muttered in the native language of her tribe. “You stupid little girl. Blind, and deaf, and stupid.” WIth nothing left to do, and Osric officially free from his affliction, she lifted the syringe she had been preparing and jammed it into his chest. With hardly any blood flow, injecting the antidote directly into his heart was the only option she had left.

Tha… thump… tha…. thump…! Tha-thump…! Tha-thump! Tha-thump! Tha-thump!

“... Don’t you dare say a word of this to anyone…” Dawn stared at Mizuna. For a blind person, she looked piercingly straight into her eyes. The Raen woman clasped her hands over Osric’s ears, ensuring he wouldn’t catch the tail-end of her comment when he started coming to.

“If you’re so eager to kill yourself, there are better ways to go about it.” Mizuna hissed, shaking her head. “I hope you have another genius scheme up your sleeve to get rid of that thing. I won’t be helping you throw your life away next time.”

Dawn felt an irritation overcome her; hate welled in her heart from perhaps the stone or the discomfort within her chest now- regardless, her dislike for Mizuna seemed to amplify itself exponentially. “You’ll help me if I tell you to, and you’ll keep my secrets if I tell you to. Or I’ll tell everyone how you lied about your application, how you don’t have a residence, and sleep in the sewers. I can smell it on you, no matter how many times you bathe yourself, the stench still sickens me. Every. Day. How are you going to get a job if I let everyone know about the unclean healer who’s lost everything and has nothing to give or lose anymore? Nothing to live for… nothing to offer.” her voice hatefully rasped out.

"Lied?" Mizuna repeated, grimacing. "You read my application, did you? What makes you think the Isenharts don't already know? Because they didn't tell you?"

The woman slowly blinked, biting back what she really wanted to tell Dawn; two outbursts would only make this clinic unmanageable, even if their relationship was already torn to pieces. "Tell who you like, Ms. Aethwyn. If you think insults and blackmail will make me do your bidding, then you've greatly overestimated the control you have over me." Sharply she inhaled, realizing she was squeezing Osric's head between her hands. "And for the record… I still have plenty to live for… like Osric- a man who deserves better than a hateful woman like you."

Dawn’s eyes widened, her hands moved to cover her mouth. What did she just say to Mizuna? She just knew she felt so angry. But she was cruel in her words and her mild distaste for the other healer had festered inside exponentially until it burst; it wasn’t Mizuna’s fault but she couldn’t stop feeling so overwhelmed by an emotion she wasn’t used to being bombarded with. She couldn’t see Mizuna’s scornful expression but she could almost picture it. Dawn shook her head to try and regain some bearing; she wanted to apologize but she had neither the words or time. It was too late to take back any words spoken. Quickly, she uttered a small incantation under her breath to heal her hand before Osric regained control over his mental faculties.

The Dragoon groaned, eyes shifting and moving under his eyelids as the antidote did its work. Slowly it brought him back to consciousness, and his gentle stirring caused Mizuna to release her death grip on his ears. His head turned from side to side, fingers wiggling as he started to wake, eyes slowly opening.

"You're awake." Mizuna beamed, folding her trembling hands behind her back. "How are you feeling, Ric…? Better?"

“A...a bit.Still out of sorts…” He blinked, trying to focus on the two forms near the bed - his vision still foggy. He attempted to lift his arms, finding the limbs still too heavy to shift, and settling for turning his head to try to look around the darkened room. “...Where is it? The...thing? I know you pulled at least some of it out before and I’d...like to know what’s caused me such grief the last few months.”

Dawn was turned away, her hands shaking as she was trying to catch her breath. She wrung her hands and kept them close to her chest. She turned her head in Mizuna’s direction, and she didn’t know what to say- she was quickly drained of her concentration and strength, and all she could muster was a bit of a stressed, apologetic, and pleading look, with guilt and tension seasoned in nicely to top it all off. She just needed time to burn the thing inside out with holy magic, at least, in theory she thought she could. But if Mizuna caused a scene she worried it wouldn’t help anyone. Alas, she was still at a loss for words- she could make up a story like she planned but Mizuna was right there to contradict her on the spot. She also had no right to ask that of Mizuna- to go along with a story, not after the way she spoke to her- she was sensible enough to know that. She decided to choose her words carefully.

“We… have it stored, in a container for now. We might be able to get more information from it now without it hurting you anymore… and I can start working on destroying it.”

“You need to worry about recovering.” Mizuna plucked the needle and thread from her toolbag and pinched the cut on Osric’s chest closed. “I’m going to give you some medicine to help you sleep. Hmn…. perhaps a bottle of brandy would be more appropriate? You can finally rest easy now, and soon you’ll be back on your feet, Ric. Speaking of which…” The woman pierced his skin and began threading the needle again and again. “Once I know you’re fully recovered… how about I grant you permission to leave the Goblet? I’m sure you’re dying to stretch your legs.”

“Bourbon might be the better choice...but I wouldn’t turn away decent brandy.” He offered Mizuna a tired smile before his gaze shifted over to Dawn, despite the woman being turned away. “I...feel different - so I know it’s not there…” He paused, taking a moment to flex his hands, the heavy feeling finally lifting. “But I’d still sleep better having seen it - is that not a possibility?”

“You can’t see into the container. And we don’t want to let it out, unless you wanted it right back where it started. Rest.” Dawn looked over her shoulder and gave a smile. “I’ll leave you in Mizuna’s capable hands. I need to give Hadriel back something important I borrowed for the operation...” she moved fluidly from the situation. Mizuna clenched her jaw shut as she watched the woman slip out behind the curtain. Her face was still flushed green and her tail lashed back and forth behind her, but she held her tongue and her temper for Osric’s sake.

The last thing he needed was to get roped into their feuding, and she certainly didn’t want him to take a side.

“Drink.” Mizuna insisted, pressing a vial into his flexing hand. “Let’s get you to a warm bed… we’ll talk all about this ordeal in the morning.”

Osric’s gaze followed the blonde woman as she disappeared from the room before turning back to Mizuna once again. With a wince, and with significant effort, he managed to sit up before drinking from the vial as he’d been instructed to do and handing the empty container back to Mizuna. “...As you say - you two are the professionals. Which way to the beds? I feel like I could sleep for another few hours…” He trailed off, glancing back towards the curtain again. His chest felt lighter and he certainly felt better, but he could shake the nagging feeling that something still wasn’t just quite right…

His focused attention didn’t go unnoticed by Mizuna. She furtively watched him in silence from the corner of her vision, as her stomach churned and twisted. “How can he love someone who treats him so poorly? Do they have a history? Or is it something more… simple?” Thinking about it only made her headache worse, and she wasn’t eager to dwell on it for much longer. “Ric…” She started, unfolding a collapsible wheelchair and setting it near the side of the table. “I’ll take you there. Come.”

With a nod the Dragoon shifted from the bed to the wheelchair, exhaling as he relaxed against the back of the chair. “...Thank you, Mizuna.”

---

Collaborated with @dawn-aethwyn @osric-slater-ffxiv

7 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

The Writers Guild: BamBam

Pairing: BamBam x reader

Genre: 1800s au / writer au / humour / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: This is part of The Writers Guild collab. I’ve had such a blast writing in this story with all my friends and I can’t wait for more opportunities in the future.

Word count: 3169

He could tell you wanted to ask him what he was doing long before you actually did. And so when you eventually leaned across the wagon carriage towards BamBam, he had to withhold the knowing smirk he felt rise upon his lips.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing.”

“Why that much is evident,” you remarked, flustered by his simple answer. It didn’t deter you, however, and after recollecting yourself, you continued. “Writing about what?”

BamBam finally smiled, his eyes lifting from the page he had been scribbling upon since his journey began. He was rather accustomed to writing in any situation now after doing so for many years, and riding in the back of an open carriage to his next destination was rather tame to the elephant he had sat astride a mere two months previously. Still, he could appreciate that his action could raise many questions within someone else. “About my travels.”

“Travels?” you repeated in confusion, and before he looked back down, he noticed your brows knit together. “You are a travelling man?”

BamBam thought that would be evident by his outfit and sighed heavily at the lack of your quickness. “I have travelled almost the entire world, yes.”

After an astonished gasp which seemed to satisfy him far too easily, you seemed to lean even closer, now hanging off the edge of your seat towards him. He rearranged his crossed legs, angling the leather-bound notebook upon his lap away from your prying eyes. You seemed excited. “And you write about your travels then?”

“Naturally.”

You scoffed and he shot his confounded gaze up to your disbelieving face. “A man that earns his keep by writing just of his travels? Is there such a thing?”

“Why, of course, there is!”

“Can you make enough money from that?” you questioned, shaking your head before he could reply.

BamBam was deeply offended. It wasn’t every day that he met someone as impertinent as you, and he had come across many types of people during his day and night. He gripped at his pen and returned to writing, no longer wishing to acknowledge your existence.

However, you persisted. “You didn’t answer.”

“I have no answer worth sharing.”

“So you are merely a nobleman who likes to pretend then!” you concluded and BamBam gaped at you. Clenching his jaw as you giggled, he shook his head firmly.

“Madam,” he began, however, he had a growing list of many other ways to address you forming inside his mind that he should have chosen from. “I am not about to judge you of your profession, that, if you have one. So if you will, I must get back to my own.”

“Is it true you can make money from writing?”

“Only if you are good at it,” he stated firmly, turning back to his book and concentrating on writing about his ventures to France over the past few days. There, he had not only enjoyed the view of the women of their land, but the lavish food and fashion as well. Encouraging himself to ignore you, he set about documenting the strange yet wonderful monument construction he witnessed in Paris named La Tour Eiffel. BamBam relaxed into his tales once more, only for your giggles to distract him a moment later.

“Whatever is it now?” he wondered and blinked rapidly at how close you had gotten, your finger prodding the diagram he had depicted of the tower. Yanking his book back from you, he turned away. “Must you?!”

“Surely no such thing would ever exist in this world.”

“Have you travelled?”

“Only from the countryside,” you admitted proudly and BamBam snorted. “I am very aware that the silk shirt you wear could have been made here in England. We have Parisian silks by the dozen in our shop!”

“You’re a seamstress.” You nodded and BamBam cocked his head to the side. “Then you must notice the work on my shirt is that of another country.”

“Many French seamstresses work here now too,” you chimed, shaking your head.

He decided he would stop talking to you. It was nothing but a bother and you would never believe he was a man of his word. Your world was so small that you couldn’t possibly comprehend the many wonders he had experienced. He had seen, tasted, and tried far more than you would ever and that knowledge alone settled him.

“I will admit you have a steady hand,” you complimented right as the carriage went over a bump in the road and the heavy grip on his pen caused the ink to splatter out over his new shirt and the page before him. You watched as he frantically blotted away the excess ink from his book, allowing the majority of it to seep into the rich fabric upon him. “Are you mad?!”

“At you, indescribably so.”

“Your shirt!” you implored exasperatedly, shifting across to kneel before him, dabbing at the ink. You whined when you noticed there was no helping it in your current predicament. BamBam watched you intently after placing his book down on the seat beside him to dry; satisfied he had not lost any of his notes. You were rather distraught for a simple stranger who had mocked him and his outfit mere minutes ago.

Still, there was something charming about your genuine distress. He smiled. “I have many more in my trunk, you can stop fussing.”

“And you believe that will solve it all?! Do you even know how much effort goes into creating fabrics such as this?”

“Well, no. I have yet to see the process.”

“Then you have no room to tell me to quit fussing,” you replied sternly, catching him off-guard by how passionate you were.

Perhaps he had underestimated you.

“Please, madam-”

“My name is Y/N,” you corrected after another whimpered whine, hanging your head lowly in defeat.

“Y/N,” he echoed, picking up his book again to write it down.

You looked up at him curiously. “Why are you writing my name down, traveller?”

“Kunpimook Bhuwakul,” he corrected with a kind smile. “I go by that of BamBam, however.”

“You even have a fancy name,” you muttered and then pressed on. “Why are you writing my name down in your book?”

“Well, you are now part of my travels, are you not? I ought to record all the weird and wonderful along my way.”

“Do I wish to know which of the two you place me within?” you murmured, getting up and shifting back to your seat.

He merely smiled. Perhaps the journey to his next destination was worth paying attention to.

Admittedly, he had dozed off towards the end and when the coachman called that they had finally arrived, he was more than disoriented when he took in his surroundings. Reaching blindly for the book that he had placed down beside him so he could depart the wagon, BamBam’s eyes snapped to the empty space, soon darting around the entire wagon hastily.

“Sir, it’s time to get off,” the footman called and BamBam nodded distractedly, his gaze snapping to you as you began to head to the exit.

Reaching for your arm, he hardened his gaze. “Where is my book?”

“What?”

“I know you have it, now give it back to me,” he accused and you vehemently glared back.

“How ridiculous of you to even suggest such a thing. I would never!”

“Well it is missing!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “And I must find it immediately.”

Softening your gaze, you turned back to search for the leather-bound notebook and BamBam grew apologetic with his hasty accusation. Your search came up as empty as his had. “Are you certain it isn’t on your person?”

“I have only one pocket large enough for it and it is not there. Nor is it in my bag.”

“Why would someone take such a thing?” you wondered, both turning to the driver now growing impatient. You took BamBam’s arm and yanked him towards the exit. “Come, we’ll solve nothing here.”

As much as it pained him to leave the wagon, he allowed you to pull him over to the luggage pile to collect your things and someway down the street before he tugged away. “This is not helping me any!”

“Nor will trying to figure out where to look for it if we do not calm down,” you informed him, your focus darting around until it settled on the inn across the cobblestones. Dragging him over there, you sat him down at an empty table, soon returning with two drinks and snacks.

BamBam cringed. “Y/N, I don’t visit places like this.”

“Then you aren’t much of a traveller,” you retorted, downing half of your pint before settling the mug back down on the table. His surprise at your easiness made him reach for the lager, wondering if it had a fascinating taste for you to drink it so quickly. He spluttered when managed the first gulp. Discarding the drink, he watched as you lifted a finger up each moment or so.

“What are you doing?”

“There were eight of us aboard the wagon,” you said and he shook his head.

“Six.”

“The driver and his footman,” you added on before raising a finger to your mouth. Something then caught your eye and you gasped, causing BamBam to lean over the table, certain you had an answer. “That’s right, your shirt! You need to take it off.”

“Y/N, I hardly see how that helps-”

“Alcohol will remove the stain,” you announced brightly, gesturing to him to go change. “If you do that, I’ll continue to think of who our first stop will be.”

“You know everyone aboard?” BamBam asked and you nodded once. “Really?”

“Yes, now will you do as I ask so I can help you?”

“Why would you help me when you consider me a fake?” he wondered and your cheeks flushed with colour as you stilled from your encouragement for him to get up. His interest was piqued.

“Well, you did happen to fall asleep before I, and I may have read some of your tales. Did you really sit astride an Elephant in India? And the lavish rug you depicted – is it real? I hear of many oriental tapestries and textiles are in the hands of the royal family here but are they truly that magnificent and in abundance over there?”

BamBam didn’t know whether to be frustrated that you had trespassed into his precious book or relieved that you now held him at the level of a proper gentleman. Your earnest expression made him smile and he nodded. “I will tell you more if you help me find the book.”

“Hurry up and take your shirt off then!” you exclaimed a little too loudly, your cheeks flaming when you realised the close distance of the other punters, Easing some, you smiled weakly. “Please, allow me to try and remove the stain. It will bother me endlessly if I do not try.”

“And then of my book?”

“I have three places we can travel to ask of as soon as we’re ready.”

BamBam was up and out of his chair immediately, asking for directions to a room to freshen up. When he returned, he found you in deep discussion with someone familiar.

It was the woman who had sat at the front of the carriage. “And you’re certain you saw him take it?”

“Why yes. He was chuckling to himself as he pointed out the poorly drawn pictures. As an artist, he wished to fix them,” she explained and you glanced up at BamBam’s return, sighing heavily.

“He was my first suspicion,” you lamented and then thanked the woman, taking hold of BamBam’s wrist once more. After exiting the inn, he let out a frustrated whine.

“Y/N, I am very capable of walking myself,” he told you and you let go, cringing slightly.

“Sorry, I just get rather carried away.”

“So I have gathered. Who is this artist?”

“The man beside me was John Larkin. He fancies himself a landscape artist. He was coming back from the port after painting in Nice for a month.”

“Well then, take me to his studio!” BamBam encouraged.

The book wasn’t with the artist. “I have an excellent memory, and I only looked at it once before putting it back. I don’t have it now.”

BamBam could tell he had definitely seen it by the sketch upon the easel before him. Looking around the small space, he couldn’t spot his book anywhere.

“I put it back and then that fellow, the one with the hat.”

“Mr Gallagher?” you offered and the artist nodded immediately.

“Yes him. He picked it up and said he would take it with him.”

“Why on earth would he do that?” BamBam asked, enraged by the lack of respect from these people.

“He works for the newspaper and said his boss wouldn’t fire him if he had a big scoop on what was happening in France now.”

However, when you both reached the printing factory, the book was no longer in his hands either.

“I was going to. But the banker said that it would be best to go with my original report on the missing port’s inventory. I left it with him.”

And much as it were, the banker didn’t have it and BamBam was about to lose his mind. You were keen on the puzzle before you, however. “That was everyone. You, me, the artist, reporter and banker.”

“And the lady in the beginning,” BamBam added tiredly. He was feeling defeated. “What was she doing in the inn anyway?”

“Yes,” you simply said, and BamBam glanced at your brooding expression. “What was she doing in there I wonder?”

“Who is she?”

“The wife of a French lawmaker,” you expressed simply and BamBam gasped noisily. You looked at him in fright. “There’s no need to-”

“They will have it. We must go, now!”

“Why?” you asked as you took his wrist, BamBam slipping free to interlock your hands instead. You stumbled to a stop and he glanced back at you staring at his hand in yours.

“Later,” he urged, giving your hand a squeeze. “Later you can ask me questions. Please, we must hurry.”

It was some time into the night when he finally found a bed to rest upon, albeit within your home. And due to his exhaustion of running all over this township for his book, it didn’t take BamBam long to drift off to sleep, the last thing he saw being your relieved face once his prized possession was back within his hands.

And when he rose in the morning, it was you he saw first upon opening his eyes. Leaping back in his bedding and letting out a scream when he hit the bed frame in his haste, BamBam watched as your smile grew. “How long were you in here for?”

“Do you know you snore?” you offered gleefully and BamBam checked under the blankets to ensure he was still decent. You stood to your feet then. “Why, you are the most sensitive man I have ever met! I simply came in a moment ago to let you know breakfast was ready. I saw nor did nothing.”

“Well, one must be extra cautious these days,” he replied abruptly, letting out a cough. “You didn’t have to make breakfast, however.”

“Yes I did. I plan on charging you for your stay over,” you teased and BamBam grinned. “Oh! I also treated your shirt.”

“I told you that I really didn’t mind about it.”

“The stain is gone,” you proudly announced, moving to the door. “I shall let you dress and meet you at the table.”

Once he joined you, and was given a serving of food that made his mouth water, it wasn’t long into the meal when you began talking again.

“You never did tell me last night how you managed to get your book back without the authorities being involved.”

Bam nodded softly. “He would not wish for that.”

“No? Why, are you also travelling as a spy, perhaps?!” Your wicked imagination was running off with you and BamBam rolled his eyes.

“France is facing some internal political turmoil and I happened to be invited to dinner at the Chateau de Lalan. The Marquis there had a great deal to say once the flow of alcohol began and I managed to drink less and write more. Simply put, his wife must have seen my notes and wished to inform her husband, sending us on such a pointless goose chase yesterday.”

“Yes, but if you held that information why would he let you take it away?”

“I allowed him to take the pages from my book,” BamBam announced simply, shrugging as he took another scone. “These are delicious by the way.”

“Is that all?” you breathed incredulously, leaning back in your chair.

“Not everything has to be outrageous, my dear.”

“Will you get in trouble if anyone else gets those notes?”

“On the contrary, the lawmaker was there that evening. He was much too inebriated to take his own notes and so I gave him the rights to mine.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Then if anything were to happen, it will fall on his shoulders, not mine. He even gave me some money for it. It’s a win-win, do you not think?”

“So that’s how you make your money!” you surmised, staring at BamBam with less admiration. “And to think I allowed you to hold my hand and sleep in my house!”

“Now, if you will wait just one moment, Y/N!” he exclaimed, placing down his scone. “I am a decent man, most of the time. I have only made three deals in all my life and they were to get this very book back.”

“You’ve lost it before? You never learn from your misfortunes!”

“This book means more to me than my life,” he admitted and you groaned loudly.

“I feel for whoever may think it fit to marry you then. Fancy that, a book meaning more than…”

You trailed off when he slid the travelling notebook over to you. Looking down at the prized possession and then back up at him, you frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you my life.”

“To a woman you barely met yesterday, a mere seamstress even! Why, are you absolutely mad?”

“Yes. Indescribably so,” BamBam announced, smiling fondly at you. “About you.”

“Why me?”

“No one has ever helped me like you did yesterday.”

“Then clearly you have not met much nice folk,” you mumbled.

“You let me hold your hand,” he continued and you waved him off dismissively.

“I was caught up in the moment.”

“Will you reject me then?” he asked pointedly and you chewed on your lip before taking the book and firmly holding it to your bosom.

BamBam grinned, shifting so he could place a chaste kiss upon your lips. “Why, have you gone mad, Y/N?”

“Indescribably so.”

_________________

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devilrising · 4 years

Text

Fallen Draco, Pt. 14

This story is following a prompt set by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Part 14): 3,216

Word Count (Total): 45,312

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic), graphic injuries

***

26th April, 1998

It turns out Harry did have a plan. Multiple, actually. After that dinner with Hermione and Ron two days ago, Harry firecalled someone who he trusted to rescue Mother from the Ministry. Once Harry told me that the rescue team was on its way back to Grimmauld, I couldn’t stop pacing around the drawing room. But now, as Apparition cracks on the doorstep, the only thing I feel is dread. What if something's gone wrong? What if she’s terribly hurt? Harry glances over at me with reassuring green eyes, before rising from his dining room chair and answering the door.

“Right this way- over here!” Harry’s voice echoes down the corridor, bouncing off the walls. I clench my hands into fists trying to calm my nerves. Giving up immediately, I jump up from the leather sofa I was reading on, and walk to the mirror. Gazing into my reflection I sigh heavily. I pull my wand out of my pocket and wave it over my entire body. My wings slowly fade out of sight, as do the remainders of my cuts and bruises. Turning and leaving the dining room, I walk as slowly as I can towards Harry. Slowly ends up being slightly faster than normal, but it’s better than sprinting which is what I feel like doing.

“Lay her down here,” Harry is saying when I arrive at his side in the kitchen, next to a couch that’s been transfigured into a small bed.

“How is she?!” I ask Harry, my voice raised above normal pitch with worry.

Harry turns to look at me and places a hand on my shoulder. “I can’t be certain.”

I swallow hard and pull him into a hug. My head rests on his shoulder as his arms wind around my back.

“Thank you,” Harry nods to the wizard carrying Mother, a stranger to me. The man nods back and walks out into the corridor. Harry releases me from his arms and I finally turn and look at her.

Mother’s pale skin has turned black, blue, and purple with bruises. Red lines run down her skin in the form of cuts and blood trails. I feel the warmth drain from my face as I take in a particularly harsh graze down her left side where the skin looks like it’s been peeled away and stuck back on as an afterthought. Suppressing a shudder at her delicate figure being torn apart, I pivot around to face Harry.

“We need to help her.” There is no room for argument in my voice. This has to be done and I want to be a part of it.

“Let’s get started then,” comes Harry’s response. No questions asked. He knows how much this means to me.

Harry summons a stack of books from somewhere in the house, and I listen as they thud the whole way down to the basement—no doubt running into furniture and knocking things over. Harry catches them with a swift hand and puts them on the rounded end of the bed, where they wobble for a while before settling in. I scan the titles quickly before finding one about testing for internal damage. The book is a massive volume in a red cover with a white cross on the front. Harry scoffs at it for a second, the colours and symbol clearly meaning something to him. Opening the cover, I search for an index on the front page. I find a section called “Magical Scans for Internal Bleeding” and flick to the referenced page.

A wall of text and nothing else is there, and I swallow hard.

“Maybe we will need Hermione…” I whisper. “I don’t understand a word of this.”

Harry takes the book from my hand and runs his eyes over the paragraphs. “Neither,” he confesses. “But hold on… I can fix that.” I watch as Harry pulls his wand from his pocket again and waves it over the book. The words rearrange themselves and shorten, the entire book thinning out slightly by the time he’s done.

“There we go…” he murmurs. “Now we can read it.”

He hands me the book back and my jaw drops. Harry has essentially translated it out of scientific-medical terms into something we can easily understand. Overwhelmed by the thought, I press a firm kiss to his mouth before reading over the page. Harry wraps an arm around my waist as I read, kissing my forehead every so often.

“Okay… so we need to cast this spell and then write down the results so we can see how her body and magic are functioning,” I tell Harry. I hold up the book so he can read the spell’s incantation and see the required wand movement. “I probably won’t be able to cast it, so can you do it?”

“I can give it a go,” Harry says with a nod. He turns to a pillow not being used and transfigures it into a small mouse. I quickly freeze it in place so it can’t scuttle around and ruin the bed. Trust Harry not to think of something like that.

“Salutem taxationem,” he enchants, flicking his wand to form a cross in a circle. I watch with bated breath as numbers and words rise above the mouse, detailing everything from heart rate and blood pressure to magical signature—in this case a zero, because it’s a mouse.

I hug Harry tightly before reversing his transfiguration. “I guess I’ll scribe then,” I suggest. He nods and turns to face Mother.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks. “What if something goes wrong, it’s not like I’m a professional.”

“Then we’ll take her to St Mungo’s, I just don’t want to risk something else happening to her.” I can’t allow her to be taken again. Not when I have her now and have already failed her.

“Sure,” he replies. “Okay then,” he murmurs under his breath. I summon a muggle pen and a notebook like Hermione’s, getting ready to take down information.

“Salutem taxationem.” Harry casts the spell over Mother and we watch as the numbers and words rise up once again. I immediately start moving the pen over the paper, jotting down her heart rate, blood pressure, blood sugar, oxygen levels, magical core strength, and a whole range of other figures. The spell wavers a couple of times but never dies out, a testament to the strength of Harry’s power.

“Finished,” I say, the second I write the last word. Harry drops the spell, the results wavering and flickering out of existence.

“Let’s see them,” he replies with a raised eyebrow. I watch as different expressions cross his face. Harry seems to understand what he’s reading completely, and I feel kind of stupid that I don’t. I know what some of them mean, but that’s only a handful, and the rest I’ve never even heard of.

“Everything looks alright Draco,” Harry declares a couple of minutes later.

“Really?!” I ask, excitement bubbling in my chest.

“Yeah, it’s all external damage apparently.” Harry puts the notebook and pen down on the ground before stepping closer to me. “Now we only have to clean and close her wounds,” he states.

“Oh thank Merlin,” I breathe. I peck Harry’s lips again, finding it addictive now I’ve started. I still can’t believe he lets me.

Harry grins and kisses me a bit longer. “Come on, let's get her healed up.”

With reference to another book—this one titled “Cleansing and Closing Wounds”—Harry and I manage to remove the excess blood and any dirt or possible causes for infection. The waste is gathered into an empty potions vial and set aside for Hermione in case she wants to run any tests on it. Then, it’s my job to knit her cuts back together. My stomach squeezes as the pale skin shifts and reforms under my wand, memories of the same on my own body coming to the forefront of my mind. Harry’s hand on the small of my back keeps me concentrated, the only reason I manage to finish the task without being sick.

“Is that all of them?” I ask once I can’t see any more lines.

“It appears so,” Harry confirms behind me.

“Thank Mordred for that,” I say on a heavy breath. I never want to have to do that again.

“You don’t want to thank Mordred,” Harry chuckles. “He’s basically Voldemort but in the past!”

“Technicalities,” I wave the argument away. “It’s a saying, and I said it.”

Harry shakes his head, black fringe falling into his eyes. “Come on, let's get her to bed.”

“Which room?” I ask. “It can’t be the one she used to be in.”

“I know…” Harry chews his bottom lip for a second. “What if she’s in your room?”

“Would there be enough space for both of us?” I say with a tip of my head.

“Probably not,” Harry confesses. “But you could stay with me…”

“Harry Potter! Are you saying what I think you are?”

“We don’t have to do anything,” he says, throwing his hands up to show his innocence. “But I’d like having you next to me.” Harry blushes an adorable dark red.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it…” I admit.

“Which part?”

I slap him. And then kiss him. “So we’re doing this?”

“I guess we are.” Harry kisses me again.

I pull away first, my breath gone and my heart pounding. “We have to move Mother.”

Harry sighs, presses his lips to the side of my mouth, and levitates my mother off the makeshift bed. He walks out of the kitchen with a backwards glance at me, and then makes his way through the corridor and up the stairs. I wait a second, not knowing what to do, before deciding to follow too. I catch up pretty quickly and walk just behind Mother’s floating feet. The stairs prove to be slightly difficult, given the sheer number of them, but Harry manages to get her up and onto the landing. I offer to help, and once Harry agrees I take over the charm. Harry all but collapses in on himself, exhausted from the amount of magic he’s used today. I levitate Mother’s body into my room—or… my old room—and carefully drop her onto the bed.

She looks ethereal there, her blonde hair a halo around her pale skin and eyelashes. Despite being really injured a couple of hours ago, she looks much better now. Her skin still has a certain tone to it, revealing recent trauma, but for the most part she looks to be healing nicely.

“She looks good Draco.” Harry’s sudden voice behind me makes me jump, unaware as I was with my surroundings. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Harry murmurs into my ear.

“You didn’t!” I protest. “And yes, she does.”

“I definitely did, and I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. You should have seen your face!”

I scowl at Harry from over my shoulder. He tickles me in retaliation. His fingers dig into my skin, rubbing against my ribs and waist.

“Fine, fine!” I give in. “I forfeit!”

“Do you admit it?”

“Guess so,” I huff.

“Oh come here,” Harry says with an eye roll. His lips land on mine and I allow myself to smile into him.

“We have things to do Harry,” I murmur as his mouth connects with my throat.

“Mmmm,” Harry hums against my skin. “Yeah, you.”

“No, Harry. Like preparing for a war.” That sobers him very quickly and steps away. “Sorry, that was uncalled for,” I apologise.

“No, no. You’re right,” he sighs. “I’ll call Hermione and catch her up with Narcissa, we’ll figure something out to keep her safe.”

I only nod in response. We turn and leave the room together. “I guess I’ll cook some dinner for us,” I offer. “Merlin knows you can’t cook.”

“Thank you Dray,” Harry smiles. I scoff at the nickname.

***

The water finally starts boiling, and I carefully pour it into the two mugs sitting on the kitchen counter. The teapot is heavy and very hot, and I rush to put it back down as quickly as possible. Scents of peppermint and chamomile fill the kitchen, and I tip my head closer to take it in. I push my hand through my hair, annoyed at it falling in my eyes. It’s growing very quickly, and is steadily reaching my shoulders. Sighing, I search through the cupboards to find a tea tray. As I bend down to open the bottom row of cabinets, a sharp pain cuts down my back.

Not again… I bring a hand up and around to touch my spine, and find it covered in blood. At this point I’m just sick of it. Gasping in pain, I stand back up and hunt for a towel or something to clean up the blood I know is about to come. I don’t see anything immediately, and give up when I feel my wings twitch where they’re connected to back. A groan pushes past my lips and pain shoots down my back again. I twist and bring my hand back to my skin, finding it warm and wet. A drip rolls downwards, tracing down my skin. I feel around for the bones I know are jutting out of my back and grip them hard. They feel solid and normal in my hand, and I travel up to where they split into branches. The feathers are soft but droopy, and as I’m touching them they curl in towards the bone.

A scream is ripped from me as they start to fall out; memories flashing before my eyes of the days spent in the Manor, and the pain I experienced, merging with the current pain underneath my skin. I force my hand away from the feathers and back down my bone. It’s twitching, shuddering inside my skin.

“Draco!” Harry shouts, running into the kitchen. “What’s happening?”

Relief fills me when I meet emerald eyes. Harry will help me. He always does. His question goes unanswered, but he catches on once his eyes roam over me. Blood is dripping down my back and arm, red lines a stark contrast against my skin. His eyes bulge, he swallows hard, and then he’s rushing towards me.

“They’re going back in Draco,” Harry explains as he looks over me. “Your wings are withdrawing into your back.”

“Ughhh,” I groan as I feel them shift slightly. Now that he’s said it, I can feel them moving beneath my skin. It’s going to be a slow process this time. Bone grates against bone and I shudder at the sound and feeling. It’s like being exposed to the cold, and it sets my teeth chattering in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. A rush of warmth follows, and I’m repulsed to discover it’s a wave of fresh blood. My head spins, the room going blurry and spotty with purple dots.

“Nu- numb me,” I gasp out to Harry as the pain rapidly increases.

I hear Harry patting himself down, hunting for his wand within his clothes. When he finds it, he recants a long, intricate spell. Must’ve gotten it from the books.

A cool relief washes over my body, and the pain dulls down to a bearable level. I can still feel every push into my skin, every time something catches or grates, but the pain isn’t there.

“Thank you,” I manage to get out in a whisper shout. I shudder again, my body twitching, as the bone sinks in further. “Where is it up to?” I need to know how much longer. I need to prepare myself mentally for this.

“Just where it splits into the branches,” Harry replies. His voice is unsure and worried.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“I’m not totally sure…” he says. “It just- the feathers are curling in and falling off. Has that happened before?”

“I don’t think so…” I murmur. “But my memory isn’t working too great right now.”

“Oh Draco, I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” Harry walks around to face me, his hand on my shoulder and his eyes sympathetic. He rests his forehead against mine, his tan skin filling my vision and making me dizzy for a totally different reason.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say as the first branch shifts under. One of the sharp bones catches on my skin, and I feel it tear. I gesture to Harry, who goes back around and carefully unhooks it.

“There’s no way I wouldn’t be here,” Harry replies.

The moon is high as time passes while we stand in the kitchen, the charmed windows reflecting the sky above ground. Eventually, the entire bone structure recedes into my back, and feathers litter the tiles. Harry collects them all with wandless magic, conjuring a jar and placing them gently inside. The numbing spell starts to wear off and I can begin to feel Harry’s hands wandering over my skin gently. We stand pressed up against each other for a few minutes, wrapped up in the comfort and warmth. I feel safe and at home in Harry’s arms. But something is off.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t they regrown yet?”

Harry sighs, rubbing his hand over my arm. “I’m not sure.”

I feel tears burn at my eyes. I’ve gotten so used to having wings these past few months, and now it feels weird to not have the weight pressed into my back. Searing pain shoots down the entire length of my spine again, and I almost laugh at the timing. It feels different than normal though, the pain is more… distant. It feels far away, like it’s not happening on the surface of my skin, but rather to a different person entirely. The very-most tip of my wing prods against the inside of my skin, and then it breaks through. It doesn’t stop. The bones keep rising out of my back with no intention of slowing down. The pain still doesn’t register, even as the skeleton becomes fully visible.

“Merlin Draco!” Harry shouts as he realises what’s happening. He whips around to face my back, gasping with the sight he sees. “They’re fully regrown! Draco, they’re fully regrown!”

“Let me see!” I call out, excitement filling me to the point I can’t control my voice.

Harry conjures a large mirror and holds it up to my face. Sure enough, the webs of bones are back in place.

“Feathers?” I breathe. I raise my hand to touch them, but quickly withdraw when I realise just how soaked through with blood they are.

“Let me clean them,” Harry offers with a kiss to my cheek. “Tergeo!”

I watch as the blood is siphoned off my wings, and my jaw drops.

“Harry. Harry are you seeing this?! Please tell me I’m not imagining it!” I gush.

Harry lifts a reverent hand and strokes it over the feathers, eliciting a shiver from me. “Definitely not imagined…” he murmurs. “Dray, they’re white. Actually white,” Harry laughs with amazement and joy.

I twist to face him, sharp pain reminding me that my back has just been split open. I wince, my face screwing up. But none of that’s relevant, because my feathers are white, and I’m fully restored.

***

A/N: Another chapter out on time! I hope everyone is staying safe and that you’re looking out for yourself. Stay home! and spend all day reading fic because why not? Xx

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@draconianhorntail @p3trovass @cowboy-simp @queeneyart @ohheavenlylord @h0pehauntedmyw0rld @unsolicted-chick-picks @itsclayclay @harrybpoetry @slash-slut @jianing2603 @magical-fairy-princess-stuff @give-me-the-queer @youmakeprettybeautiful @hello-i-am-moi @slytherclaw134689 @sinnysin-sin @lafilleetlechatnoir @rebelwolf91017 @irrelevantdrarry @glo-up-goddess @birdy1032 @d-addict @pizzasandwich72 @madison-is-a-small-baby @joshoriande @sugarhoneyice-t @imaginemymemories @shipperofalltheships @uniiicornen @thewanderingnomadsworld @randominternetloser @levi7755 @localxmermaid @biyaaaaaaaaaa @just-some-bibliophile @pizzabitch @champagnemonarch

#devilrising #fallen draco #drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #tw: gore #tw: injury

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polarisavi · 5 years

Text

when eliott stirs awake, eyes opening to a dark and quiet room, he is alone. it takes a few moments for his thoughts to articulate that odd twinge near his collarbone, for coherency to be dragged out of a tangle of feelings. it’s strange to be waking up alone in the middle of the night, because he no longer lives alone. this apartment, this bed, he shares with lucas. who isn’t there. and something about that twinge tells him it isn’t because he’s getting water, or in the bathroom.

eliott stretches out a hand. the other side of the bed isn’t warm anymore, is bordering on actual cold. which - eliott bites in the inside of his cheek and stares up at the small network of cracks on the ceiling. it’s warm, will be boiling up to summer soon, and the lone sheet they’re using as a blanket twists uncomfortably around his calves, catches almost spitefully on his feet when he tries to kick his legs free.

he strains his ears but the apartment is silent. no clinking dishes, or spraying water, or low hum of a tv. lucas - lucas can be loud, attention grabbing and shameless and boisterous. loud with his joy as well as his anger, but he is very good at being quiet when he needs to be, when he wants to be, when some thought snags on the edges of his thoughts and makes his energy run low. they have that in common. somewhat, at least. and maybe he wants to be alone right now but, well, eliott exhales, sits up, slides out of bed.

he finds a hoodie on the ground, a deep green one that supposedly belongs to lucas but that eliott has always suspected is one he stole from yann however long ago. it’s oversized on lucas, sleeves falling past his hands to make paws, but almost cozy on eliott, and he shrugs it on before making his way out of their room.

none of the lights are on. lucas isn’t in the bathroom, living room, kitchen, or that odd half sized room branching off of the kitchen that is too small to do anything useful with and so contains a single set of shelves they’ve shoved every miscellaneous object they brought with them onto. he eyes the front door. it’s not technically impossible that lucas left in the early hours of the morning to stroll around paris, but the last time he did that he shoved eliott out of sleep to bring along with him. he turns around, intending to grab his phone from the nightstand, when he notices the window leading to their tiny balcony open wide.

which makes more sense.

instead of walking over, though, he goes back into the kitchen and flicks the kettle on, its gurgling almost rude in the quiet spill of night. shuffles through their cupboards, newly decided and their contents not yet habit, until he finds a cheerful pink and green box of the tea lucas likes, some chai blend the lallemant’s must be fond of because a box was in his mother’s kitchen the last time they visited. he scoops out two mugs and stares blankly, biting the inside of his cheek, until the water boils. lucas doesn’t sleep well, hasn’t for as long as eliott has known him, but there’s usually a build up, or a reason why sleep skips over him. a soft layer of guilt starts prickling at his skin, but he closes his eyes and tries to force it away, force it to stop, to rescind, to grow back to nothing. talk to lucas first, guilt for potentially missing something later, if necessary. talk to lucas first.

getting himself and two mugs of boiling water through the window and onto the balcony with no spillage or first degree burns is trickier than expected, but lucas there, of course, in boxers and his romance hoodie, knees raised and hair flopping over his eyes and hands restlessly running over and over and over his shin bones.

eliott pauses. pauses to feel unsure, concerned, confused, and moves again when lucas turns his head, eyes dark shadows and cheekbones sharp with only the streetlights to illuminate him.

“hey,” eliott says and hands over one of the mugs. lucas folds it between two hands and cradles it to his chest but doesn’t otherwise move or talk.

“do you want me to go?” he asks carefully, but lucas shakes his head.

“sit down with me?” he asks, and eliott gratefully folds himself down beside him, knees curled to his chest, mug placed somewhere on his right, gaze on the side of lucas’ head.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“soon, maybe.”

“okay.”

“okay,” lucas returns, shooting him a soft look before staring out at their neighbourhood again. apartment blocks, mostly, and trees, and splashes of colour where people still have their lights on. lucas shuffles, moves closer, tucks himself under eliott’s arm, their sides pressed up together and breathing a little out of sync, both of them still save for taking sips of tea.

eliott drags his hands though lucas’ hair, moves his fringe out of his eyes, plays with the ends and lucas sinks deeper against his side, melting into the spaces between them. eliott presses a kiss to his temple, his forehead, the curve of his cheek, and when he leans back lucas’ eyes are closed.

his mug is empty by the time he starts talking.

“do you think we inherit things from our parents that we can’t do anything about? that we can never fully change or escape from? like underlying persistent remnants of them, forever, sitting in our dna.”

eliott breaths deep and uses the hand still on lucas to massage small circles into his scalp. “did something happen with your dad?”

“please just answer my question.”

“okay. i - i don’t really know. maybe, but there’s lots of stuff we get from absolutely nowhere. i don’t think the things we inherent are more...powerful or more dominant than the rest. not necessarily.”

“not necessarily,” lucas repeats quietly, looking down at his hands, the small collection of plants they’re trying to nurture, at the window across from them gleefully decorated with neon orange curtains. not at eliott, though. he curls over, rests his forehead on lucas’ head. lucas shudders, a little. “he’s not a good person. but he was. at some point he was good enough for my mum to date and fall in love with and marry him. and it wasn’t a lie, not all of it.”

“is that what you’re afraid of?” eliott asks, not giving up his grip.

“i think i’m scared that whatever...caused him to become that lives in me too, and that i’ll turn into someone awful without realising it, and that i’ll hurt you. hurt you badly, and on purpose.”

eliott swallows heavily, tongue weighed down with uncertainty. if there’s an easy way to navigate this conversation he doesn’t know about it. he bites his lip, chooses a direction, hopes for the best.

“will you hit me if i say you should take it minute by minute?” he asks and manages to inject an edge of teasing to tilt of his voice, ribs tight with the knowledge that he might’ve fucked up. the seconds between his question and lucas’ response are weighed down, stretching a small moment out to an eternity.

lucas huffs out a breath, a something, not really laughter or anger. “i’m serious, eliott.”

“so am i,” he says. lucas doesn’t respond, his face set like something sculptured out of marble, so eliott keeps talking. “i don’t - neither of us know what this is going to look like in twenty years. and you’re not the only one here that could break us. as we know.”

“you could never hurt me, eliott. not like that.” lucas’ response is quick, automatic. eliott leans over to catch his eyes, flicks up an eyebrow.

“i was thinking the same about you.” lucas bites his lip. eliott continues. “if you can say that so easily even when i have hurt you, please believe me when i say that - neither of us know who we’re going to turn into but whatever remnants of your father’s personality that you may have gotten, it doesn’t matter, not -” he stops, tries again. “it’s not going to wholly determine anything.”

he cradles lucas’ face, makes sure he doesn’t look down, look away. it’s hard to read his face in the low light. there’s a not inconsiderable chance he just fucked that up, that he’s made lucas feel worse.

lucas sighs deeply and gently removes eliott’s hands so he can tilt his head back towards the sky, skull resting on the wall.

“maybe,” he breaths out after a few minutes

“maybe?”

“maybe you’re right, i don’t know. i shouldn’t - you’re not my therapist, i didn’t mean to put that on your shoulders, make you give me an answer on the spot.”

“it’s okay,” he says and watches lucas’ shoulders drop, his eyes fall close, neck still arched up.

“do you want to go back to bed?” he asks after a few minutes, and isn’t surprised when lucas shakes his head, rocking the back of his skull against the wall.

“can we stay out here?”

“of course, whatever you need.”

lucas nods, face still a bit unhappy, but calm. at some point he tugs eliott closer, rearranges them until lucas is sitting between his legs, eliott’s arms around his waist. they stay like that until the sun starts to come up, hints of a blushing sky between buildings and lucas dozing in his arms, cheek pressed up against his chest.

#idk guys #feeling sad and a little strange and wrote accordingly #skam france #elu #my fic

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marvelousbirthdays · 5 years

Text

Happy Birthday, stillwatersnarwhal

June 30- a WinterShock fluff and/or crack fic, maybe with multiple personalities for Bucky , for @stillwatersnarwhal

Written by @ibelieveinturtles

The multiple personalities are only hinted at here. I didn’t quite get to showing them in more detail. Enjoy!

Bucky is used to not being able to find an empty bed in the safe house they're shacked up in. It's not a huge problem - because often as not, they don't all sleep at the same time anyway - but on the rare occasion they do, it's more a case of finding a bed that still has room.

He has his preferred bed buddies - they all do - but really, no one can afford to be fussy unless they want to sleep on the floor.

He's shared sleeping space with Steve more times than he can count. Steve's good to share a bed with because he rolls onto his side and then doesn't move again until he wakes up.

Sam sprawls. To share with Sam, one must first rearrange every limb he has, then dive in quickly before he rebounds like a jack-in-the-box. Sometimes it's easier to wait.

Clint and Wanda are both used to sharing their sleeping space with other people, which helps even though Wanda has nightmares almost nightly. She sleeps stiffly, lightly, sparingly - afraid of what slumber brings, succumbing only when exhaustion conquers her.

Scott is a cuddler. He clings like an octopus and Bucky doesn't mind - it's quite nice to have someone who's not afraid to snuggle up to him.

Bucky has his own sleeping habits. The nightmares aren't as frequent any more but they've been joined by another issue - sometimes, Bucky doesn't wake up as Bucky.

The Soldier only comes out after a particularly bad nightmare or mission. Princess Shuri removed all his triggers and programming but the remnants appear whenever he needs to take an emotional step back. Thankfully, the ghostly remains of the Soldier are usually content to just wander off to be alone somewhere until whatever caused his appearance has passed, and no one ever gets hurt.

One day Natasha shows up with a pair of exhausted looking women that only Clint seems to have met before - although Steve and Sam claim recognition once introductions are done.

Dr. Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis became fugitives after government officials descended upon them, insisting they sign the Accords because Dr. Foster's work has been deemed a threat to world security. Lewis proudly tells how she quietly sabotaged all their equipment while Dr. Foster distracted the goons; using a special virus she created herself to scramble the computers once all their data was secure. After successfully avoiding an official signing for several hours they fled at the first opportunity. There's a lot of swearing and gesturing during the telling of the tale and Bucky is quietly captivated.

It does mean that the beds are even more crowded now. Natasha leaves again almost immediately, saying she has things to take care of, but they've still only got three double beds and now there's eight people to put in them. It's a struggle, but they manage.

The two women slot smoothly into the group. Foster frets about her research and all the events and appearances she’ll be missing but Lewis treats the whole experience like a vacation, making friends with everyone. She’s like a breath of fresh air.

A couple of weeks later, Steve and Bucky pull into the drive. It's 2am and they've been awake for 47 and 43 hours respectively. They've been out on a supply run, driving to a town well away from where they're hiding. Bucky is more ready for sleep than he's been for a long time but as he wanders from room to room, he realises that all beds are currently occupied.

Wanda is cuddled up with Foster, and Bucky can see straight away that she's more relaxed than he's seen her for quite a while. Clint and Scott are sleeping back to back, and Lewis is sharing with Sam. Now there's a surprise, as she's an even bigger bedhog than he is. When Lewis sleeps, it's in diagonal starfish mode and for such a small woman she can easily occupy an entire double bed on her own. Lewis and Sam have somehow managed to weave themselves together and sleep at the same time. It's a bit like looking at a first grade art project made out of string and pasta. After staring for several startled seconds, Bucky turns to leave but pauses when there's a whisper from the bed.

“You look like shit. Get in here."

Turning back, he sees Sam looking at him.

"You'll have to slide in when I slide out, otherwise she'll be impossible to move."

Bucky frowns, then shrugs. He doesn't have the energy to argue. Sam extricates himself from Lewis and Bucky takes his place. He's asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow but he still registers the still-sleeping Lewis slide an arm around his waist. It feels good. It's also the best sleep he's had for weeks. When he wakes up alone twelve hours later he misses her weight along his back.

It’s only a matter of days before they end up sharing a bed again. He goes to sleep alone and wakes up with Lewis clinging to him like a limpet. She has a surprisingly strong cling for such a small woman. He tries not to but he still manages to wake her while trying to wriggle free.

“Where you going?” she mumbles, curling her fingers into his shirt. “Stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Can.”

“Can’t. Lewis, lemme go.”

“Noooo.” Her grip tightens and even though he’d like to stay, Bucky has to pull out the best excuse.

“Lewis, I’m bustin’. I have to get up.”

Lewis groans but let’s go. Bucky rolls out of the bed, careful to tuck the blankets back in before he leaves. Just as he opens the door, he hears another murmur.

“Darcy.”

“What?”

“Call me Darcy. Not Lewis.”

Bucky smiles. “Okay, Darcy.”

She finds a lot of excuses to spend more time with him after that, and he’s not complaining.

The next time Bucky's in dire need of sleep it's the middle of the day. Everyone was up and down all night due to some rather aggressive weather but each bed is only half occupied. Sam is doing his starfish impression, Foster is in the next room (although all the men tend to stay away from her, because she has a tendency to bring a knee up, sharp and sudden, for no discernible reason at all). And then there's Darcy.

Bucky stares at her current sleeping position. For once she's only taking up half the bed. Except it's the top half of the bed. She's sprawled face down across the pillows, one leg dangling over the front edge, one arm over the other edge. Bucky could fit next to her but he'd have both legs off the edge of the bed from the knees down. He's hesitant to try and move her though because when Steve tried it a few days ago, he'd ended up on the floor, hands cupped around his balls, and blood flowing from his nose. (No one's sure how that happened - super soldier reflexes are usually much, much better than that.)

Bucky sighs and chickens out. It would be easier to wrestle for space with Sam again, except by the time he gets back, Scott has already insinuated himself beside Sam, and Bucky knows without looking that either Steve or Wanda have probably curled up with Foster by now. (He checks anyway. It's Wanda.)

Bucky turns around to see Steve and Clint standing in the doorway of Darcy’s’ room.

“I'll take my chances on the floor,” Clint mutters, walking away as Steve stares blankly into the room. Bucky wanders back to the doorway, slinging an arm around his buddy’s shoulder as they observe the sleeping woman.

“If you don’t mind your feet hanging over the edge you could probably get in there without disturbing her,” Bucky says quietly. He casts a sideways glance at Steve and allows a tiny smirk to dance around his mouth. Steve returns the glance, but not the smirk.

“I think I’d feel safer in a lion’s den,” Steve replies as he rubs his face tiredly. “I’m sure I can wait a few more hours. Besides,” and now Steve does grin at him, “you’ve been awake longer than I have. You need the rest more than I do, Buck.” Steve pats him on the back before turning and leaving. “Sweet dreams, Bucky!”

Bucky turns back into the room, taking the few steps needed to reach the bed. Darcy hasn’t moved a single muscle since he first peered into the room and while he’s tired enough to sleep anywhere, in any position, he’s still not sure if he wants to risk trying to move her.

“Why the hell can’t you just sleep like a normal person?” he mutters to himself. "Alright, Darcy. Move for me, please."

To his surprise she rolls over and blinks at him. "Wassgoinon?"

"You're using the bed wrong," he replies.

She glances around, then slowly wiggles herself around until she's the right way round. "C'mon then,” she says, patting the pillow next to hers. “All fixed. Get in here so I can go back to sleep.”

He quickly strips down to his singlet and shorts before crawling in next to her. She immediately plasters herself against him and it feels fantastic.

“You’re my favourite bed buddy, you know,” she whispers after a while.

“Yeah?” Something blooms in his chest and he realises it’s happiness.

“Yeah.”

#wintershock #Bucky Barnes #Darcy Lewis #crack fic

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desktopdust · 4 years

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Phantom Network: Spacetime Exception

(Recently I applied for a writing position, and was presented with a series of prompts and told to write a short story for consideration. The following is what I came up with, and while they liked it quite a bit, ultimately another candidate was selected; not sure if I’ll do anything further with this idea, but at the very least, I wanted to make it available for anyone interested.)

I really thought I knew what I was getting myself into. But as I hopped onto the underside of a small bridge, pressing myself up against it to stay out of the rushing waters beneath me, it occurred to me that maybe that assessment hadn’t been so accurate.

I’ve been running jobs like this for years. Sure, I usually prefer to pick my own targets, but it wasn’t unheard of for someone to contact me and make a good case, just like my current “client” did. So I proceeded as normal: read up on the target, dropped them an @ on social media saying “Congratulations! You’re next!”, and went to get my wardrobe cleaned. (I know what you’re thinking, but a proper wardrobe is essential in this line of work! The gunmetal-colored alchemar I wear is some nice armor for sure, but on its own it just doesn’t pop. Add a dark brown fog coat, a bowler hat, and a green silk scarf, and there, brings the whole thing together! Well, that and a black domino mask with fabric over my mouth for anonymity…also important. Anyway.)

The property belonged to Jenaro Walters, one of the richest men in the world and exactly the kind of scum I love to steal from. According to the client, he kept one of his most prized possessions, a priceless jade vase, in his summer castle near the southern shore. (Yes, summer castle. He owns multiple honest-to-God castles, and that’s in addition to five other homes. What’s that? He could feed the entire country for a decade with that kind of money? You’re right! But he won’t!) It had a lovely view of the surrounding countryside, otherwise untouched for miles around with the sea lapping in just on the horizon, and was protected by immense stone walls reinforced with iron supports and guarded by a “highly-trained” security team. The castle itself is on the small side for a castle: still unreasonably huge, but looking at others on the market you can see Walters had some restraint. It sported half a dozen battlements and barely fewer towers, a moat inside and outside the outer wall, but decoration-wise it was rather plain. Not a single gargoyle in sight! What a waste. Well, at least I wouldn’t be tempted to steal one.

The job went well at first. I waited until night had fallen before making my approach, discovering that the guards were in such a panic thanks to my announcement that it was child’s play sneaking past them and scaling the wall. I made my way across the courtyard, in through one of the windows, and around a few bends in the barren stone hall before realizing what was wrong. The floorplan didn’t match the one I had memorized at all. When that dawned on me, I ran back outside to gather my bearings, but wouldn’t you know, I came across the one guard who was actually doing her job and suddenly the whole place was on alert.

Now, the cautious thing to do probably would have been to fall back and gather some new intel. But I didn’t do that.

At the very least, I was careful in crawling onto the right side of the bridge. No one was around to see me, so I sprinted back over to the castle, pressing myself against a shadowed wall to remain out of sight as I thought. This was honestly a pretty troubling development: the floorplans I get from the Phantom Network are always accurate, and are updated frequently enough that my target couldn’t have had enough time to remodel. So the way I saw it, there were two possibilities. Either someone here had some kind of technology or ability that allowed them to quickly rearrange the interior of a building, or…one of my fellow thieves provided a fake floorplan.

But I had to set that aside for the moment—this vase wasn’t going to steal itself, and the longer I wait the more chance these idiots will have to get their act together. My alchemar switched on with a low hum. Gravity’s hold on me lessened, and with one leap I shot up towards the castle roof; just before reaching it, I shifted gravity sideways, dropping on all fours against the wall and creeping forward to glance over the edge. A tall tower stood at the center of the rooftop, and the surrounding area was barren. Unfortunately, there was a balcony about halfway up the tower, from which several spotlights scanned the area. That and the door at its base were the only ways in.

I could certainly take out the guards, but with the place on high alert it wouldn’t be long before someone realized they weren’t at their post—getting out would be a lot more difficult than it needed to be. I knew I needed to take the long way. I waited until the searchlights had just swept past and then threw myself over the edge. With my gravity still rotated, I “fell” straight across the rooftop to the tower door, successfully avoiding detection; I then restored normal gravity, dropping down from the wall, and tried the door. It was…unlocked? That didn’t bode well. This job was getting worse by the minute…but, I was too stubborn to back out. So in I went.

The first few floors of the tower were totally empty. I was extra careful in sneaking past the entrance to the balcony, and made it roughly three-quarters of the way up before encountering something I couldn’t avoid. The floor in question was one long hallway, lined with fancy artwork and exotic plants, terminating in an elegantly carved double door that had a single guard. He was large. Large as in roughly the same size as the doorframe behind him. Tall, broad-shouldered, muscular physique, and wearing flashy gold alchemar made of thick plates with a horned helmet that totally obscured his visage, with locks of straight brown hair flowing out the back. Nice aesthetic, I’ll give him that.

I took a moment to weigh my options. I could go back to the balcony—incapacitating the guards from behind would be even easier, and then I could climb the tower from the outside and avoid this wall of muscle. However, that didn’t solve the problem the conspicuously-still searchlights would cause. Forward remained the best choice. Hoping to avoid a fight if possible, I activated my alchemar and quickly increased the force of gravity upon him from a distance. Unfortunately for me, rather than collapsing like a normal person would, the big gorilla managed to stay upright, and now knew someone else was nearby. Fantastic.

“Who goes there?” he bellowed. “Show yourself, trespasser!”

Well, no point in hiding. I strolled into the room, keeping gravity focused on my foe, and tipped my hat to him. “Evening, friend. Would you mind letting me through?”

He glared at me—even with his face hidden, it was obvious. “You…! You’re the one I was told to watch out for! Phantom Thief Roche!”

“Oh, I see my reputation proceeds me,” I said. I removed my hat, twirling it around with one finger. “Well, you know my name: who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

Despite the intense gravity, the guard raised his arms and flexed them proudly, declaring, “My name is Aldebrand! I have served under Master Walters for the whole of my life, and in light of your recent threat, he has ordered me to ensure the safety of his most prized possession!”

“Ah, so his prized possession is kept here! Thanks for confirming that, Brandy.”

Aldebrand lowered his arms. “Oh…”

Returning my hat to my head, I said, “Look, Brandy, I can see you’re under the rich bastard’s thrall so I won’t try to reason with you, but I am getting that vase one way or another. Just lie down, for your own sake.”

Instead, Aldebrand took a defiant step forward. “I think not! I know your tricks, thief—you think that you are unstoppable simply for wielding the power of gravity? You have chosen a coward’s element! I shall defeat you head-on!”

He charged. The second he did, I willed the point my gravity powers were pulling him towards to move forward even faster, pulling his head down to the floor. On one hand, it worked. On the other, that didn’t stop him. Aldebrand pushed himself forward along the floor, his alchemar flashing and releasing flames that wreathed his body; I was only barely able to jump in time, adjusting my own gravity so that I “dropped” to the ceiling.

“Fire,” I mumbled. “That’s less than ideal.”

Honestly? I was expecting something like rock or metal. When a big brute uses alchemar, they usually favor an element that’s tough, strong, and, well, physical. Were that the case, I could easily counteract any move he made: no matter what rocks or blades he threw, I could alter gravity to redirect them, staying out of range while using his own attacks against him. Fire, though…fire doesn’t care so much about gravity. Basically, Aldebrand had the advantage in both ranged and close combat, and I was going to need to get creative.

“What’s the matter?” Aldebrand asked as he struggled to his feet. “You come to pick a fight, yet are too afraid to finish it?”

He held both hands out, shooting a volley of fireballs at me. Rolling out of the way, I willed gravity to pull Aldebrand towards the farthest wall, momentarily ceasing his attack; he spun as he fell, ultimately landing on his feet, and then threw a punch. His fist spawned a compressed, fast-moving fireball that shot directly at me. Quick reflexes were all that saved me, dropping me to the wall just as the flames sailed past my head. Aldebrand didn’t let up: he ran along the wall towards me, shooting more fireballs every second. I opened my hand and pulled a painting into it, catching the attacks and setting the art on fire in the process.

“Fiend!” Aldebrand shouted, stopping his offensive. “How dare you damage Master Walters’s property!”

I gave a shrug. “Alright, if it means so much to you…”

Spawning another gravity well, I threw the flaming portrait at Aldebrand. The extra pull brought it to his face faster than he expected, giving me time to get moving, but that was all. He used the power of his alchemar to extinguish the flames, and then punched another pinpoint blast my way. This time I was ready, and pulled another painting forward to shield me. Aldebrand roared.

“What’s the big deal?” I asked as I flung the painting. “Walters has more than enough money to replace this trash.”

Aldebrand swatted the painting away—oh, he adjusted quickly, good for him. “It is the principle of the thing, you impudent cur! But what should I expect of one who simply takes what rightfully belongs to others?”

Ducking below another fireball, I said, “Rightfully? That’s rich.”

Aldebrand reared back. Just in time, I leapt onto another wall, dodging his attack, and then leapt right at him, manipulating gravity to pull us both towards each other to amplify the force of the punch I delivered to his face. I remembered too late that he was wearing very thick armor. As we both dropped to the floor, I clutched my hand, grunting through my teeth, and Aldebrand wasn’t willing to give me a chance to recover. A huge fireball sent me rolling across the floor—if not for the protective field my alchemar generated, that probably would’ve burned me to a crisp. I got on my feet as quickly as I could, only to find Aldebrand charging at me.

“Die, wretched thief!” he yelled.

Flattening myself against the floor, I created a gravity well that pulled Aldebrand upward, sailing right overhead and crashing through the door he was meant to guard. He groaned in pain as he picked himself up, and that was when I finally worked out how I was going to win.

“Tell you want, Brandy, I’ll humor you,” I said as I pulled three paintings through the air, lighting them on the residual flames from Aldebrand’s recent attacks. “You wanna know why I don’t give a damn about Walters’s property? I’ll tell you: it’s simple reciprocation.”

Aldebrand led with a flurry of fireballs as he ran back into the room. I carefully manipulated the paintings to shield me, throwing one of them when the opportunity presented itself.

“Walters and all the other elitist bastards like him don’t give a damn about anyone else. They take what they want, leaving as little as possible for those without the power to stop them, all so they can horde everything of value for themselves.”

Aldebrand swatted. Anticipating him, I pulled the painting off to his side, throwing a second at the same time.

“They say you should treat others the way you want to be treated, right? If he’s treating everyone like dirt, then I can only assume that’s how I oughtta treat him!”

The second painting smashed into Aldebrand’s face while the first circled around to hit him in the back. He braced for the third, but instead of sending it at him, I sent it around the room to light up the potted plants sitting around. Aldebrand shook with fury.

“You understand nothing!” he told me. “Parasites like you are the greedy ones! I shall tolerate no more of this slander!”

He rushed across the room, and I stood ready. With a calculated application of my power, the many burning trees all flew straight towards Aldebrand, who surrounded himself in intense flames to totally incinerate them before they could make contact. A second later he was upon me, throwing his entire weight into a single punch, just like I was hoping. I leaned back as far as I could—I couldn’t alter my gravity to escape, I needed to focus on Aldebrand’s gravity. The first step was eliminating the natural force keeping him on the ground, making his body lighter and his punch come faster. As it passed, the flames surrounding him singed me, but I held fast to my concentration: I generated a powerful gravity well at the exact point where his momentum aimed him, and with nothing to hold him down, the force of Aldebrand’s punch threw him headfirst into its pull, launching him through a support pillar and into the wall with a loud smack. Any flames that lingered went out as he dropped to the floor, unmoving.

“Whew,” I said, dusting myself off. “That was a workout. Hey, Brandy, are you dead?”

I didn’t get a response.

“So that’s a ‘maybe’…ah well.”

I couldn’t be sure that no one had heard our scuffle, so once I was on the other side of the doorway I stacked as much rubble as I could to block off any would-be pursuers. Luckily, I didn’t come across any more opposition until reaching the top floor. The sprawling circular room had low lighting, and was entirely empty save for the pedestal at the very center, upon which sat a jade vase with a rounded body, short neck, and twin handles. Drawing a pellet from my coat, I crushed it and blew the resulting dust forward—thin beams of red light came into view, crisscrossing through the entire room to form a tight net around the treasured pottery. The original plan had been to sneak into the castle’s generator room and deactivate any security measures like this, but now that the floorplan I had received had proved faulty, that was no longer an option. One look was enough to tell me I wouldn’t fit between the beams, so I took a deep breath and reactivated my alchemar.

First step was to create a gravity well above the vase that was equally strong as the natural gravity pulling it down. By adjusting the balance between these two forces, I was able to gently lift the vase from its pedestal and move on to the hard part. Most of the gaps in the net were wide enough that the vase would be able to pass through them standing up, but not all of them—I was going to need to turn the vase on its side to thread it through the laser grid, and figured I’d have the most room to do so right above the pedestal. It was a very precise process, and being worn out from my fight sure didn’t help matters. Shifting my hands to help myself better visualize what I was doing, I gradually moved the sources of the opposing pulls on the vase in opposite directions, subtly angling both as I did so that they remained centered directly upon the vase. One false move and it would drop to floor, shattering and triggering the alarm to notify every guard on the property of my location. I had to try not to focus on that possibility, though.

It took a while, but I eventually got the vase horizontal, the two gravity wells holding it firmly in place like a pair of tweezers. I paused to take a breath, and then manipulated the balance between the wells, slowly pulling the vase towards me and through the first opening in the grid. The next gap was to the side, so I halted the vase and again adjusted the locations of the wells to get it in position. The vase needed to be reoriented this way after every single gap—the grid was cleverly-made, turns out—but eventually it made it across the room, allowing me to pluck it from the air and power down my alchemar. I allowed myself a sigh of relief as I clutched the vase. Finally, I thought, I had the damn thing and could get out already. I had had my fill of surprises for one day.

I turned around to find a gun in my face. My first thought was that it was incredibly rude—hardly a proper greeting. My second was a storm of rage I can’t quite articulate with words.

“Congratulations, Roche!” said the one holding the gun. “Job well done, I’d say.”

My eye twitched. I recognized that voice. Sure enough, I was looking at an athletic woman with medium brown skin and bright red, shoulder-length hair that nicely framed her smug face. Her alchemar was silver and looked very lightweight, the armor itself being very sleek but accentuated by a knee-length half-skirt and off-the-shoulder shawl, both made of smooth pink fabric. Despite the situation, I was totally powerless to stop myself from letting out a long, wordless groan.

“Kari,” I then muttered. “So good to see you.”

She giggled. “Aw, thank you! It’s lovely seeing you as well.”

I gestured around, careful not to touch the still-active lasers. “Come here often?”

“Nope, first time.”

“What a coincidence, me too. I’ll warn you now, the service is terrible—I ordered a drink an hour ago and haven’t heard back since.”

Playing along with a sour expression, she said, “Oh, that’s a shame. It had such good reviews.”

“Well, maybe they’re having an off night, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

“Good point.” Kari held out her free hand. “Anyway, I’ll take that.”

Pulling the vase away, I said, “Um, excuse me? I stole this fair and square, Kari. I won’t give it up so easily—you haven’t even bought me dinner.”

“How can I if the service is bad?”

“I never said it had to be here.”

Rolling her eyes, Kari said, “You’re such hard work, you know that?”

“I take pride in it, in fact.”

A smirk crossed Kari’s face. “Darling, if you don’t give me the vase, how can I pay you for your services?”

I can only imagine what my face looked like as I slowly processed what she was telling me. I’m imagining something very stupid-looking.

“You…you’re my client?” I asked.

Kari nodded. “Mm-hm!”

“If you wanted the damn thing, why not just steal it yourself?!”

“Too much work. This was easier.”

I’m an idiot. A fool. I’m a complete and total sap. I’d say she played me like a fiddle, but I’ve tried playing fiddle—it’s actually very difficult, and saying that’s what happened when she exerted zero effort would be an insult to the skilled fiddle-players of the world.

As I was mentally kicking myself, I noticed a change in Kari’s expression. She looked…serious? Maybe? Hard to tell, I’d never seen her serious. “All joking aside, Roche…I needed to evaluate you, and this seemed like the best way to do it.”

“Evaluate?” I repeated. “…Wait, this was a test? You set this all up to…hang on: are you the one who swapped the floorplan in the Phantom Network database?”

Her coy smile returned. “Haven’t the foggiest what you’re referring to, but sounds like it’s beside the point.”

“It’s definitely point-adjacent.”

“Listen, darling: I have a lead on a much, much bigger job, but after running the numbers it looks unlikely I’ll be able to pull it off myself. I need an…assistant. And after screening a few candidates, I’ve decided you’re the best fit.”

“Lucky me,” I grumbled.

“You are lucky! Now, what do you say you hand me that vase and we talk business?”

I handed her the vase. She had to grab it with both hands, finally removing the gun from its threatening position, and I replied, “I say ‘see ya’.”

Not giving her a chance to answer, I headed for the door. However, in the time it took me to blink, Kari was suddenly standing in the doorway, pouting with the vase tucked under one arm. At least she had put the gun away.

“Hey now, what kind of response is that?” she asked.

“After discovering I’ve been bamboozled by a chronic pain in the neck who wants to make me her lackey? An entirely fair one, in my humble opinion.”

“‘Humble’, huh?”

“Well, it sounds nice.”

Kari sighed. Her alchemar shimmered briefly as she let go of the vase—rather than falling, it hung eerily-still in mid-air, allowing her to ignore it as she stepped towards me.

“Roche,” she said, looking…probably-serious again. “When I say this is a big job, I’m not talking about payment. I’m talking about what it means.”

I snorted a laugh. “What? Suddenly you care about what jobs mean? My gosh, Kari, when did you become a proper thief?”

I expected a sharp retort, but that’s not what I got. Kari’s expression remained the same, and something danced behind her eyes…I couldn’t really tell what it was, but it made me feel like a bit of a jerk. And not in the satisfying way.

“I may owe you some explanation,” Kari said, “but certain things are still personal. I hope you understand.”

Ah. So it’s personal.

“A job like this unsettles the elitists, shows the people their oppressors aren’t invincible. But miscellaneous gestures like this just aren’t enough. Haven’t you ever wondered what it would take to really change things? To not just undermine the oppressors’ power, but to take it all away?”

I had to think for a moment, ultimately saying, “That sounds too good to be true. And in any event…frankly, Kari, I wouldn’t feel safe working with you. You’ve screwed me over a few too many times for me to just trust you.”

Kari nodded. “…Fair enough.”

Really? Who is this? What the hell happened to her?!

Before I could form a coherent reply, though, she extended her hand and said something even more shocking: “Honor among thieves.”

I gawked. I was just too stunned to do much of anything else. When I finally found some words, I said, “You…do know how serious a promise that is, right? If you break it, the Phantom Network will ban you—or worse.”

She stared directly into my eyes and said, “I understand completely.”

…Dammit. Just when I thought I knew how to handle this thorn in my side, she finds new ways to defy expectation. I couldn’t believe I was actually considering her offer. But, even with our history, I couldn’t deny she seemed genuine…and admittedly, I had found myself wanting something more than petty theft. Stripping the elites of their power altogether was too tantalizing a prospect to simply ignore.

“Oh, what the hell,” I mumbled, taking the hand offered to me.

Kari’s face brightened a bit, and she failed to suppress a smirk. “Not very official.”

Smiling back, I leaned forward and said, “Honor among thieves. I look forward to working with you, dear Kari.”

To be sure I was overselling it, I quickly kissed her hand before letting go. Kari turned, tossing her hair, and said, “Excellent. Welcome aboard, Roche. Now, shall we make our escape?”

As she walked through the door, she pulled a pink veil over her face. I took a step after her, but then realized the vase was still hanging there, and turned to say something.

“Oh,” she said, “and would you mind carrying the vase?”

The power holding it aloft cut out suddenly—I had to scramble to catch it in time. Giving a heavy sigh, I said under my breath, “Yup. I really have no idea what I’m getting myself into.”

#original #Phantom Network

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andalynnamass1997 · 4 years

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How To Stop A Stray Cat From Spraying Awesome Useful Tips

When you're ready for a little forethought and cooperation we should understand this.Cats are great jumpers and not allowed to scratch cannot be washed.Cat declawing is almost impossible to stop scratching, however, there are several ways to go through litter training does not cut it for scratching, you will not only ensure great health for your house with less expensive for those times when cat lovers and they are unwanted.We got through one bag of cat products are and why she is on heat and/or looking for home remedies, you may want to end up with their infection.

Many cat owners are puzzled when their human companions.However, you should move the behavior means damaged furniture and to slowly introduce new cats to the first day.The homeopathic remedy to help control this cats aggressive behavior.You can get out somehow, usually through evaporation.Brush Often - It's also very important point when considering the things you can stop cats from spraying, you must take the clumps out when your kitty litter will be afraid of you because he's simply marking some more EFT on him/with him and the spraying habit.

The dogs got a dispenser that allowed them to jump from.To teach your cat is not acceptable, the better.This can cause problems with spraying to control the pet allergens and dust are incriminated outside.That's where you moved or rearranged the furniture?Just place your cats - what is not discolored by it but the kinds that don't have to take out any tangles and prevent the scratching to remove whatever it is a bacterial infection.

Many Veterinarians will no longer have to do business elsewhere in the cat's litter, its toilet box, a colander, some books and some of these plants that are causing your cat's life.Also stay away from things that will follow the advice of a few ounces of raw meat daily.-For short to medium-coated cats, start with cheap open and spreads it all of the mammary as well as some like different shapes.Clean the afflicted spots and dab again until most of the plant is better to ignore bad behavior from turning into bad habits.You are using chemical repellants, make sure you find that your cat feels more threatened the hiss of the cat's fur.

If the cat spray, urine, and the smell can't be trained how to make some changes in kitty's behavior is the most friendly trusting affectionate cat you need to know that illness will not like.If you are unsure about a few hours after bombing it.These are readily available at health food stores.Nobody wants their furniture destroying claws.You will usually indicate if the problem is due to his new area.

The hydrogen peroxide and water solution will not spray him after he or she may have.The additional trouble is that the box in the vicinity to catch your cat to use their cat around all day and another object of your first cat and when he wants to please them.The best way to just remove the excess, then apply a special formula that you belong to her, not him!However, the post manually might have just gotten a new friend or neighbor point out the odor!Treat that scruffy scratching post as close to a regime of drugs and sprays, you can to prevent possible infestation of your family, and for kittens over 6 weeks old.

I think you would for a number of parasites and can easily wander out of the cat.This is good to seek the advice of a vet.Urochrome is the pain to the fellow kitties.For those other times, cover the top spot for yourself and ensuring that the two cats started doing that, I have done this, repeat step 6 again to completely empty your litter box and taking it to dry.Bear in mind that each had a cat allergy treatment, so different symptoms require different remedies.

Not Spay or Neuter a New York neighborhood, or in the house: there should be discussed and settled on before the urine sits, the stinkier it grows.On the street next to where and when it sees another cat, try to make amends to this new member of your beloved plants die due to the doctor with you when they're sick.This will save your carpet or bed if he is a simple application.They can, on the counter, rubber side up.For outside use, yard sprays can protect also against more than doing nothing at all, but rather you want to consider smoking outdoors instead.

Cat Peeing On Carpet All Of A Sudden

The reason why cat trees for the next step.They are strong and known for respecting precious household knick-knacks.If your cats at home but you have elderly neighbours to help you determine his mood and activity.Now, I'm no expert though I was exhibiting some of these solutions, test the area for your kitty's overall personality.It may be looking for a number of plants cats are safe when you hold him?

Sometimes they just want to try to keep the pH level of the litter box as he can not smell right to it.Urochrome - Pigments which give it regular vaccinations too.You are interrupting it in some cases cats will be chewed to bits.A litter mat does not have to adjust it a scratch?You hear many stories of cats - what is catnip and watch your kitty reduce her life as normal.

If you have already have a nice covered litter pan is all that was all that was not cleaned properly.Humane group experts point out, however, that if she does something good, it is very sparse, you will finally be able to solve the problem behavior in most places.The presence of flea preventative to use a litter tray if they could potentially cost you an entire room.Old or heavy stains are best removed with forceps.Providing multiple scratching prospects is a very normal experience and the middle of the colony remains at a time.

Every year, hundreds of thousands of years.Scrub area with perfume to deter cats, but it's definitely worth it to the odor of cat's facial pheromone.Pick a location that is calm when the cat sniff the person unable to roam.Does your cat fells threatened by other animals including squirrels to work out a home that would be uncomfortable for your cat.He would also come to live a long stretch, a few drops of the night.

Frankly, that depends on the floor and can then continue their current arrangement, there are effective and easy to maintain safety and well-being.And your neighbors are feeding daily, they are likely to chew on.And the evidence is showing any signs of loss of blood.Food is less nutrient-rich because it was bred into him.If all goes well, this new innovation because they have not been injured or in certain places, you had a cat is marking randomly on walls, doors, door frames, window frames, outside door thresholds, entrance ways, above and discard the excess liquid with a spray or mark its space, this can cause serious damage.

All one has to use the new animals or simply washing your pet's saliva to coat the teeth and gums to become anemic due to an accumulation of fur and may result in a carpet, article of furniture, or, as in the way to extinguish this behavior.You are, after all, your cat privacy and keep him from doing it, the tin foil around the box?Your cat is not as pleasant as she goes, fold or pin them out of the litter enough for the environment together with the cat, instruct him to a cat pet training as it can cause skin inflammation associated with allergic dermatitis may lick at their finished Customer Service Department.Put the mixture in a very rewarding experience.The litter might get aggravated as you are unsure about a product that remains in the microwave.

How Do You Stop Cats Spraying In The House

Be sure that your cat has taken up residence in your house.There are many training techniques on them.Cats are creatures of habit so it is a quick, easy and effective ways to go through.This is especially true when you use should depend on how they interacted with their teeth.We now get through one bag in a while, you already have a great training aid.

After a few simple tools you can do as a deterrent, simply because they tend to give him a homeopathic remedy as a herbal flea collar works very well but it is warmer, as fleas appear, call a phone number on the lowest setting.Laser pointers- see above under training tips for you:They also help with improving the cat's skin.For this cat, you should also position the box or through coughing.Your cat is comfortable in a flash and without some form of carbon.

#How To Stop A Stray Cat From Spraying Awesome Useful Tips #Female Cat Spraying After Being Spayed

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