#i just live in my little bubble too scared to branch out into other content because. HH n my own refusal to allow myself to. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

echantedtoon · 6 months

Text

Sweet Dreams

Malfie's always been one for admiring beauty. Mainly that of his mistress and himself but being a crow naturally he'd be drawn to other things that sparkled and gleamed. And maybe being a little selfish would be ok.

(I own nothing/Everything belongs to Disney. Coverart not mine and found on Pinterest.)

He was so used to staring at his own reflection.

And why wouldn't he? He was always beautiful. Long before even his Mistress found him and gifted him an even greater blessing than before. Sleek black silky hair and feathers that was on par with the gracious black of night. Face he swore had been carved by angels almost. He was grateful for every moment of this his Mistress blessed him with. To him he was the most beautiful woman in the world for her generosity.

That was until he met the girl.

The one his Mistress deemed to die even if she herself didn't seem too fond of her own plans. That was always the part that confused him the most perhaps. Why wish her demise if she herself was starting to have second thoughts most of the time? He never bothered to ask no matter how much it confused him. His job was to just follow orders not question them and he was perfectly content with that until he finally saw her for himself and she saw him by accident.

"Just keep an eye on her for now."

That was his orders. It was simple enough. The time of her (maybe) untimely demise was near, and she was being extra cautious about her plans (that if she did decide to go through with it). It shouldn't have been a problem. Just keep an eye on Princess Aurora. It shouldn't have been hard. This was the first big assignment his Mistress had trusted him with and he was honored to be able to do it. And at first it was easy. She was where his Mistress said she'd be. With her back to him doing some laundry in the river. Easy peasy. Judging by the large amount of clothes she'd be there for a while. So he just made himself at home on a low hanging branch in a place that no one would notice unless you looked up. It was rather boring so he passed the time by summoned his usual mirror to stare at himself until he happened to turn it and nearly choked on his own tongue when he saw a face staring back at him in the reflection.

A BEAUTIFUL FACE.

A smile as warm as the sun. Hair softer than silk and shinier than gold. Lips as red as a perfect rose. Eyes sparkling like diamonds. He didn't say anything at first until she chuckled making him jump and fall out of the tree with a yelp- Naturally he landed gracefully on his feet anyways and whipped around with a scowl at her. When had she turned around and noticed him?

"I'm terribly sorry." He flinched. Her voice sounded so...soft and genuine. "I didn't mean to startle you. But you surprised me just as much." Her head tilted at this strange man and his appearance. "I wasn't aware anyone else lived around here. What's your name?"

...He rose a brow with a huff. "You know you shouldn't speak to strangers."

"And you shouldn't spy on strangers either." He paused. "That's what I assume you were doing in that tree. My name is Rose. May I know the name of the man I nearly hurt by scaring out of a tree?"

Rose? That wasn't the name of the princess he was supposed to watch. Did he have the wrong woman? She looked the same way his Mistress described but perhaps so. Hmm...He'd ask her about this later. If it was the wrong person then he's been wasting his time.

Despite her playful smile he still bristled up and frowned...Oh but what the heck. He was already caught anyways. He'll just lie. Mostly. "You may address me as Malfie."

"Malfie?," she asked trying it out on her own tongue before smiling making a weird feeling bubble in his chest. "That's a nice name. What were you doing in the tree?"

"I was watching over something with an old trick. I had no intentions of bothering you." That was mostly true. "You can say it's an old Fae trick."

"That would imply that you are a fan of the forest. I heard that they use many tricks."

He smiled before shrugging. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. But that is honestly none of your business. But if I was you I wouldn't tell anyone of our encounter just in case. Never know if on the off chance I'll curse your crops to grow with polka dots!"

Despite his subtle threat she giggled again and nodded. "I suppose so. It was nice meeting you either way, Mr. Malfie."

And they wouldn't be meeting again.

Or that's what he originally planned. He couldn't risk it...but it happened. His Mistress actually assigned him to keep an eye on her a few times or he'd seek out to watch her on his own accord when he had nothing else to do. Call it out of boredom but... something else began to grow in his chest. Her voice was beautiful. Like an angel ringing out into the forest and her neverending kindness to the naive animals attracted them to her like a bee to flowers. He scoffed at her oblivious kindness but..after a while it didn't seem so bad whenever it was directed at him. She began to get good at detecting his presence too. After a few times she'd just directly turn her head to where he was and smile at him which surprised him. Sometimes that's all they did. She'd smile him before finishing whatever business in the forest she had and left like he wasn't there. Other times she'd strike up a conversation with him or he'd point something out. Like how she'd obviously not be very clever if she didn't fear the fay she talked to often but all she'd do was smile and treat him with nothing but kindness. He supposed she also hadn't spoken of their interactions with anyone else because no worried fairies were following her around. It was so easy to find her often. How? Her beautiful singing voice after all. It became a secret call between them by now.

"I wonder, I wonder. I wonder why each little bird has a someone to sing too.~ Sweet things too.~ A gay little love melody.~ I wonder. I wonder if my heart keeps singing will my song go winging to someone who'll find me.~ And bring back a love song to me.~"

He found her gazing out across the country side and to the castle of King Stephen. Ah. Her castle. Not that she knew yet.

"Beautiful view isn't it?" She jumped and whirled around startled at his form leaning against a tree behind her before quickly calming down and smiling realizing who it was. "I heard the castle is supposed to be more beautiful In person. Although I've never been there myself." He leaned back up to stand next to her with a smile. "Although I don't think you'd mind me saying that I have my own beautiful view every time I see you about the forest."

She responded as usual. By giggling and smiling at him before leaning over to lay her side against him. A great form of trust. "I often see it there and wonder what it would be like." He hummed in question. "To be a princess. Living in such wealth and knowing that you're every decision has already been made for you. Your love has already been decided for you. Never able to see anything on the outside of those walls. I always imagine how luxurious life would be like as a princess but then I think about all the loneliness that must come with it."

He hummed. How ironic of this situation. Especially knowing that she was due to already be engaged to and married to some prince Phillip. Now THAT made his bad mood worse. An arm was pulled around her soft form gently.

"Then spare those thoughts from your mind and just admire from afar. Lest no one be sad."

The quietness of the darkened room countered that warm thought now. Not even the welcoming smile of hers. He just stared silently at the sleeping beauty on the bed. She looked so peaceful lying there fast asleep without a worry in the world..For now at least. He'd heard she'd been devastated by the news and revolation of her true identity and engagement to a certain prince she met once in the forest and had seemed to be..Hmm. Not appalled but weary around. The prince was surely stricken by her although..Not that he blamed him but he wasn't too fond of the idea.

Even now that prince and his Mistress were dealing with one another leaving him with a chance to walk into the sleeping kingdom and see her. The darkened room was silent. The checkered decorated floor echoing his footsteps as he approached the bed. She lied there as beautiful as an angel. Blue dress accenting her already existing beauty as her hair cascaded around her head like a golden waterfall. A crown sat heavily on her temple and rose clasped within her hands. Her chest slowly rising and falling in her sleep. If anyone else saw her they'd think she was either asleep or deceased. Just waiting for her fated prince to awaken her with true love's first kiss....

It'd be a terrible shame if he never had a chance to give her the first kiss.

A smile spread across his face. After all he was always a selfish and a bit greedy man. He leaned down to slowly brush a few blonde locks away from her face. It was as soft as always. She only remained asleep truly helpless. With a soft breath he leaned over and met her soft lips with those of his own. Soft. That's what she's always been. Nothing but soft and sweet to him. A prince that only has infatuation was undeserving of her soft kindness. His connection to her was broken and he waited. For a long moment nothing happened and he tilted his head. Until eventually her eyelids moved a little bit and they opened. Soft lashes fluttered as beautiful eyes peered out dazed into the world. The first thing she saw being his smiling face..and her brows furrowed confused but not afraid.

"Malfie?"

"Your true prince..has arrived."

#malfie #villain recruiters #sleeping beauty #Malfie x Aurora #Aurora x Malfie #Princess Aurora #disney villain recruiters

10 notes · View notes

hazbinextgeneration · 7 months

Text

Sweet Dreams

(I own nothing/Everything belongs to Disney. Coverart not mine and found on Pinterest.)

He was so used to staring at his own reflection.

That was until he met the girl.

"Just keep an eye on her for now."

A BEAUTIFUL FACE.

...He rose a brow with a huff. "You know you shouldn't speak to strangers."

"And you shouldn't spy on strangers either." He paused. "That's what I assume you were doing in that tree. My name is Rose. May I know the name of the man I nearly hurt by scaring out of a tree?"

Despite her playful smile he still bristled up and frowned...Oh but what the heck. He was already caught anyways. He'll just lie. Mostly. "You may address me as Malfie."

"Malfie?," she asked trying it out on her own tongue before smiling making a weird feeling bubble in his chest. "That's a nice name. What were you doing in the tree?"

"I was watching over something with an old trick. I had no intentions of bothering you." That was mostly true. "You can say it's an old Fae trick."

"That would imply that you are a fan of the forest. I heard that they use many tricks."

Despite his subtle threat she giggled again and nodded. "I suppose so. It was nice meeting you either way, Mr. Malfie."

And they wouldn't be meeting again.

He found her gazing out across the country side and to the castle of King Stephen. Ah. Her castle. Not that she knew yet.

"Then spare those thoughts from your mind and just admire from afar. Lest no one be sad."

It'd be a terrible shame if he never had a chance to give her the first kiss.

"Malfie?"

"Your true prince..has arrived."

#Villain Recruiters #sleeping beauty #malfie #Disney #Malfie x Aurora #Princess Aurora #Aurora x Malfie

4 notes · View notes

arcadequeerz · 3 years

Text

this website makes it impossible for me to enjoy literally anything but BATIM or FNAF.

#||Dnt Reb/og plz||#Cade.vnt #I Cannot bring myself to get into anything even if i have genuine interest in it out of fear pf people hating me for it no matter #what the thing is because h. fear.#n im not saying this as 'oughuu people cannot call out flaws or things wrong with certain media!!!' im saying this as its exhausting seeing #fandom discourse over things im barely even interested in and thn never allowing myself to like anything because of fear of #people labeling me as Bad for Enjoying things like she-ra or whtever HJGSJH #Idk is it stupid to feel like this? Probably. n i hav people tellin me 'hey! just unfollow people!' but my dumbass is scared #to even do tht NJGFKJG ive seen people get dogpiled for less on tis website n i live in costant fear for someone to take #something i've said or done n deciding: your bad and misunderstanding me n thn not giving me a chance to even try n expain myself #this website uhhh scares me.#i just live in my little bubble too scared to branch out into other content because. HH n my own refusal to allow myself to.#this will bedeleted later im just.#big anxiety n i feel like hell #anyways im brb gotta pet the dog out n pick up the cat food #im sorry if this is all over th place im just mm anxious.

3 notes · View notes

slutforagoodsmut · 3 years

Text

Pinky Promise (Valerius x Reader)

Genre: Angst, In da feelings ;-;

Song: By Ellise

You were tired, to say the least. Tired and frustrated and basically over everything. You had given your all to Valerius; your attention, dedication and love, and yet that never seemed to be enough. He wanted more, so much more than you could ever offer. He wanted someone with status, he wanted someone with power, and you simply didn’t have either.

Things were so good between you and the consel in the beginning. You loved him, and he loved you, and there was nothing else to it. You both understood each other, you adored one another, between the late night walks in the garden at the palace and the endless conversations, it’s almost as if you both were meant to be, almost as if it was destiny.

Yeah.....almost.

The love letters became scarce over time, the only thing Valerius ever talked about in his letters nowadays were when the next meetings were with the Countess, or what the plans were to better the economy. Don’t get me wrong, you enjoyed getting messages from him regardless, but it couldn’t help but sting a little. He didn’t hold your hand the way he used to, barely kissed you, he didn’t look at you with the same loving eyes, Gods—you practically had to beg him to spend the night with you. He was just so....cold. And you had enough. You felt like this was all so one sided, as if nothing mattered to Valerius anymore. Did he even ask how you were anymore? Did he ever say that he loved you? And the answer was no. You never wanted to admit it, but a hatred formed inside you for that man, it was quickly engulfing any love and affection you had for him. The nights were restless, you barely ate since your anxiety was so high, functioning during the day was near impossible. You didn’t want to believe things were over, you never wanted that. But what else could you possibly do? Were you truly the reason why this relationship has even lasted? Because you’ve never wanted things to end and Valerius was too coward to break things off?

“I believe that concludes our meeting for the month, speak up if you have any questions.” The Countess and your good friend Nadia stood from her seat. Consels from many other regions came to take part in this meeting, including Valerius. You sat near Nadia, all the way across from your “lover”, and in between Julian and Asra. You kept your eyes on Valerius the whole time, and not once did he look at you. Of course this was an important meeting, but still, he’d always throw you a little wink or smirk. Everyone around the table shook their heads, content with the material that was looked over for the next few months of trading. Many took their leave, only a few still lingering in the room, when a voice spoke up from behind you.

“Actually, Countess, I do have a couple of suggestions.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at Valerius. Of course he did. Of course he did. Nadia gave him her full attention, Valerius coming up beside you. “Yes, Consul Valerius?” It just so happened that his fingers brushed yours at your side, attempting to curl around them but you quickly pulled away. You felt his eyes burn into your head at the corner of your eye.

“Ah, yes, well, perhaps I could propose a different strategy to quicker trading routes? Maybe if our goods were boarded from a closer port in Pakra—”

“I will see you in the evening, Nadia.” You pushed passed Valerius, bumping into his shoulder as fury bubbled within you. That. That. That POMPOUS PRICK. You quickly made your way to your room, slamming the door behind you and groaning out in frustration. You were so confused, he sent so many mixed signals. He was so moody and harsh most days but those little gestures completely messed you up. What did he want? What does he want from you?

After a few minutes of pacing in your room, there was a banging on your door. Not a simple knock, but a bang. You went over to your door and swung it open, and it was non other than the consel. His gaze was harsh, his upper lip curled up into a snarl.

“What?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Whatever the fuck do you mean, what?” He spat. “What was that back there?” Valerius pointed down the hall.

“Nothing happened! You’re being dramatic!”

“Dramatic?” Valerius pushed his way inside your room and closed the door. “You shoved me in front of the Countess and many other consuls! Do you realize how that could spark rumors?”

“Are....are you joking?” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Are you delirious? You went to grab my hand in front of the countess! I merely bumped into you! How could that possibly spark rumors?”

“Anything could branch out into rumors!”

“So that makes you a hypocrite, yes?” You pointed your finger at Valerius, who for a second got his tongue tied in a knot and couldn’t speak. “Godforbid anyone finds out you’re in a relationship with the “witch”, your whole world would come crumbling down! Wouldn’t it?” You became progressively louder, grabbing books and chucking them all over the room. “Your social status! Your power! All of it would be stripped away! Some days you act like you hate me, others you act like I’m the greatest person to walk the earth!” You got closer to Valerius, staring up at him as your fists shook, tears pricking your eyes. “What in the ever living fuck did I do to you? What is it? What is so embarrassing about me that others can’t know about us?”

Furious wasn’t even the right word you would describe Valerius’ face right now. It was contorted into such an angry, flustering mess, as if he were caught up in his own web of lies and hypocrisies. “They just.....can’t.”

“I....” You were dumbfounded, to say the least. “I’m over this...”

“Of course you are, it’s always how you end our arguments—“

“No, I mean this,” you gestured to the both of you, furrowing your brows, “this isn’t working. We fight, we scream at each other, nothing is solved. I’m done with having my emotions toyed with.”

A flash of shock gleamed across Valerius’ eyes, stepping back a bit. “What are you saying?”

You stepped back yourself, taking in a deep breath, trying to get your shit back together before blowing like a volcano again.

I gotta ask you a question

Can you see through me

See how I’m feeling?

Is it easy to tell?

You looked away from him, squeezing your eyes shut as you moved passed Valerius, opening the door and leaving your own room.

“Come back here!”

Cause you’re making plans and it’s starting to scare me

I don’t think you notice I’m not doing well

You know me, I’ve been patient

It’s been hard

It’s wearing me down

You peered over your shoulder, throwing him a sharp, hateful look as you walked down the hall. “Wait a second!” He grabbed your shoulder as you turned the corner, but you smacked his arm away, turning to face him on your heel.

So I’m sorry

But caring ‘bout you is getting so exhausting

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you, I promise you

I promise to be honest

Cause honestly boy I don’t even want this

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you

I pinky promise I don’t love you anymore

Despite your harsh words, Valerius continued to follow you down the halls of the Vesuvia Palace, attempting to grab your attention again. “For heavens sake can you just stop for a moment?” His voice thick with fear.

We’re both in different places

And I need some space

And we’re probably better not talking at all

You finally turned back around, your jaw clenched as your hands rested on his shoulders, holding him in his tracks.

Cause maybe I don’t deserve you

I don’t wanna hurt you

Can’t give you a smile if it’s just for a show

You know me, I’ve been patient

It’s been hard

It’s wearing me down

Tears finally slipped down your cheeks as you almost pressed against his warm, comforting body you slept against oh so many nights. Were you really doing this? Were you truly going to break things off?

So I’m sorry

But caring ‘bout you is getting so exhausting

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you, I promise you

I promise to be honest

Cause honestly boy I don’t even want this

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you

I pinky promise I don’t love you anymore

Valerius gulped, trying to swallow back any emotion that attempted to come up. He went to grab your waist with trembling hands but of course you pulled away, not giving him the chance to. You turned another corner, and before the both of you knew it you were headed into the ballroom.

“I—“

We talked about a future but now it’s in the past

I don’t regret the memories but knew they wouldn’t last

I know that’s it’s not easy to give up what we had

I made myself a promise and I’m not looking back...

“Please!” Valerius fell to his knees, grabbing your wrists and holding them tightly in his palms. “Please....don’t do this....things could change.” His head hung low, his shoulders shaking as his body racked with silent sobs. “Things could be better....” A silence fell over the both of you. You pressed your lips into a tight line, looking away as more tears threatened to mess with your vision some more. Gods, he looked so pathetic and vulnerable.

You pulled out of his grip.

So I’m sorry

But caring ‘bout you is getting so exhausting

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you, I promise you

I promise to be honest

You gripped your hair in frustration, stomping on the ground as your heart began to shatter into millions of pieces. This wasn’t fair! This wasn’t how things were suppose to go! He was suppose to be there forever, right?

Right....?

Cause honestly boy I don’t even want this

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you

“I pinky promise I don’t love you anymore....” Your hand clasped around your mouth. Unspoken words had come to life. Untold truths were out in the open. You didn’t love him anymore. Not in love with him at least. You wished him well in whatever he did, but this could not continue. The pounding of your heart rang in your ears and you attempted to wipe your endless tears away.

“I...just....” the consul just sat there, absolutely horrified. He was disheveled, his braid starting to tangle, his face streaked with tears, his eyes swollen and red. For a man of great honor and status, he certainly did not look like such. You stumbled back, choking on a sob as you turned your back on the man you once loved, rushing out so you could suffer this heartbreak alone in your room. He wasn’t going to chase you anymore. He wasn’t going to beg for you anymore. People must’ve saw your little scene with Valerius. He’d have a reputation to fight for.

I pinky promise I don’t love you anymore....

#valerius x reader #consul valerius #the arcana #angsty #crying in the club #this is a mess #i’m a mess #the arcana x reader

104 notes · View notes

lovingmyselfcore · 3 years

Text

Rainbow Moonlight

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH GUYS GALS AND NON-BINARY PALS

Ahhhhh I have goals for content this month but if I say them then I can be held accountable so ummmm

Anyway have some gays in an au....

"You met me yesterday. Yes and I would die for you, next question." From @ciaraloves I changed the prompt a little babe hope you don't mind

It was a dark evening, the sky was an inky black, no moon in sight, which Alex knew because he’d been staring at the sky for a while now.

He’d snuck out, something he’d never done before.

It was terrifying.

He’d come out to his parents a week ago, something he’d been scared to do for months, but he had Julie, Luke, and Reggie to constantly tell him he could do this, and they would always love and support him, so he’d done it.

They didn’t get mad, as he’d been afraid they’d do, they hadn’t thrown him out. What they had done had almost been worse.

They ignored him.

They were distant, attempting to act like nothing had happened at all, trying to ignore the pride flag over his bed that Flynn had gotten him for his birthday a few weeks before. They pretended to not know that their son wasn’t going to continue the bloodline in the way they hoped.

Tonight, it had gotten to be too much. Alex laid in his bed, and felt like the house was closing in on him, he couldn’t breathe. At the start of the evening, his parents acted just like they had since he came out, but it seemed like they’d worked up their courage, determined to have it out with him.

“So I was talking to my friend at work,” His mom said.

Alex looked up so fast he felt like he got whiplash, fork clanging as it hit his plate. His mom winced at the sound and seemed to falter now that she had his attention.

His dad reached across the table to grab her hand, like having a simple dinner conversation with their gay son was something that needed back-up. He wanted to roll his eyes.

But this was the most she’s said in a long time, so he held back the cutting remarks bubbling up his throat, and schooled his face into an expression he hoped was encouraging.

“She has a lovely daughter, Alex. You’d look good together.”

Alex went numb, his fingertips tingling as he gripped the edge of the table, digging into the marks he made as a kid using forks for drumsticks before his parents caught him. He was shaking his head.

His dad looked ready to say something but Alex felt that niggling in his chest and knew he had to get out of here.

He uncurled his hands from the table and pushed his plate away with more force than necessary. “I’m going to bed.”

“Alex!” Someone called after him but he was already running to his room, slamming the door closed and slumping against it with a dry sob. So that was that then. They’d been feeding it to him slowly since he’d come out but now it was like they shoved it down his throat with a silver spoon.

They didn’t support him.

~~~~~

Alex was rattled out of his thoughts by the sound of a skateboard on the pavement. He looked up quickly, surveying the dark park that he, Reggie, and Luke always went to when they were really young.

It was a boy. It was too dark for Alex to make out any defining features besides that.

He rolled to a stop a few feet from Alex and kicked his board up into his hands, “Hey, dude,” He says, seemingly unaware his presence initiated Alex’s fight or flight instinct. He gestured to the bench Alex was on with his skateboard, “Can I sit?”

Alex took a shaky breath and nodded. The boy sat down and Alex noted he kept a small space in between them, so they weren’t touching anywhere.

“Look, you don’t have to talk about whatever’s bothering you, but I can’t just go home not knowing if you’re okay.”

A car drove past, illuminating him in the headlights and Alex realized who he was.

Alex snapped his fingers, “You’re Julie’s friend. Willie?”

He grinned crookedly, “That’s me. And you’re Julie’s boyfriend’s cute drummer friend.”

Alex felt his face grow hot. He just said ‘cute’. Get a grip.

Alex’s brain went on overdrive: How to compliment him back, if he even should compliment him back, what his parents were thinking right now, if they even noticed he was gone, whether or not Willie was going to kill him, how insane that idea was, the probability of Julie being friends with a killer, whether or not there were killers in his school, maybe he should’ve just gone to Luke’s, no that wouldn’t be a good idea because then he’d be burdening Emily and Mitch, Reggie’s place maybe, no his parents weren’t much better then Alex’s…

It was only after that cycled through his mind that Alex realized he’d just been staring at Willie.

Willie shifted, a flash of something like discomfort in his face before he was grinning again, but this time it looked a little forced. “Do you want me to go?” He asked, voice surprisingly sincere. “Cause I’ll leave you alone if you want.”

“No!” Alex blurted, and Willie’s grin turned genuine again. Alex felt a flush creeping up his neck.

“Okay then,” Willie said, blowing at a piece of dark brown hair that fell over his face. Alex got the irrational urge to fix it for him. “Do you want to talk? About anything?”

Alex curled in a little on himself and shrugged.

Willie didn’t seem bothered by his unresponsiveness and just nodded to himself. His eyes flashed. “20 questions?”

“Are we third graders?” Alex asked with an arched eyebrow.

Willie laughed, “Why not, hotdog?”

“‘Hotdog’?” Alex asked incredulously.

Willie laughed again and Alex decided he’d be content spending the rest of his life making this beautiful boy laugh like that. “That can be one of your questions,” He said with a pointed look, eyes shining as the moon finally crept out from behind the clouds, it felt almost poetic: the moon showing her face to highlight Willie’s beauty on one of the arguably worst nights of Alex’s life so far.

“Fine,” Alex said and Willie’s grin strengthened if that was even possible. “I’ll play 20 questions. So why ‘hotdog’?”

Willie clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “Not yet, hotdog. I go first.”

Alex rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deeper into the pocket of his hoodie. The curiosity was nearly killing him at this point.

Willie took that for encouragement and hummed, “Favorite song you’ve played with your band?”

Alex smiled, “Probably Finally Free. It’s not the best song we have but it was the first one all four of us worked on. When we first played that on stage with Julie was the first song we played in front of a crowd as a real band, that Julie and Luke both worked on writing…” He realized he was rambling as he talked with his hands and shoved his hands back into his hoodie. “Yeah. Call me sentimental, sorry.”

Willie was smiling at him with something he couldn’t decipher. “Don’t be sorry. I asked. And that’s sweet, hotdog.” Alex flushed again and Willie’s smile changed into something else. “Your turn.”

“Why hotdog?” Alex asked.

Willie’s laugh came out in a huff, “You are determined aren’t you. Well, Julie told me a summary of the story of how she met the three of you. Something about bad hot dogs, Carrie’s dad, and mom’s studio in her garage?”

Alex snorted. “Yeah, that was an eventful day.”

“So I just called you hotdog in my head because somehow Julie overlooked telling me your name in the beginning.”

Alex burst out laughing and Willie did too, some birds squawked unhappily in the trees.

“My turn,” Willie said once they calmed down. He rubbed his hands together like some supervillain from the cartoons Reggie adored.

~~~~~~

They shot questions back and forth for another twenty minutes, the moon barely moved from her position in the sky, illuminating the two boys, who had both shifted almost imperceptibly closer each minute, so now their thighs were pressed against each other and each time they moved, their shoulders brushed. Willie was rolling his skateboard between his feet on the ground as if he was a little nervous.

“My turn,” Alex said, “Why are you out here?”

Willie froze for only a beat before leaning back far too casually. He shrugged, “Just skating around a little. I live like a 10-minute walk from here.”

“Isn’t your family missing you?” He winced as soon as he said it and immediately wanted to take it back.

Willie shrugged and Alex pretended not to notice his heartbreaking a little when Willie slid a little farther away from him down the bench.

“Ask me why I’m here,” Alex said, offering the beautiful skater boy an olive branch. Let him take it, he asked the moon.

She was listening.

“Why are you here?” Willie asked, voice a little strained, looking at him with something else undecipherable in his face.

“My parents don’t accept me,” The words tasted weird in his mouth. He’d never said it out loud.

Willie suddenly looked angry, “What don’t they accept?” He took a deep breath as if bracing himself for a rant.

“I’m gay,” Alex interrupted. Willie’s mouth snapped closed, almost comically.

He blinked at Alex for long enough that Alex started panicking. Then he smiled, it spread slowly across his face, and it was the most beautiful smile Alex thought he’d ever seen.

“Your parents are stupid,” Willie declared, bringing his arm up and down like he was a judge. “They have no reason to not accept you. You’re gorgeous and brilliant, you’re hilarious, you’re a drummer in your own band which is so close to playing at the Orpheum and I know for a fact you get straight A’s. You’re gay? Fan-fucking-tastic. Makes you better, in my professional opinion.” He was out of breath by the end of his speech and Alex felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He wanted to cry. But he wouldn’t because that would be embarrassing.

“Makes me better?” He asked finally.

Willie looked a little embarrassed himself and looked down at his skateboard, which he started moving again. “Yeah. You’re amazing.”

“You care that much? Even though you met me like an hour ago?”

“Yes, and I would die for you. Next question.”

That startled a laugh out of Alex and Willie glanced up at him with a smile.

“Gorgeous, huh?” Alex asked, suddenly emboldened.

Willie gave a non-committal hum, still not meeting his eyes.

“Says you.”

Willie glanced up again, startled and Alex felt his face burning, wanting nothing more than to bury himself into his hoodie, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and met Willie’s eyes.

They just stared at each other in silence before Willie laughed disbelievingly. “This is insane. I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time, and instead of a cute confession, I basically told you in a rant about your stupid parents.”

“A crush on me for the longest time, huh?”

Willie bumped his shoulder, “Oh shut up, hotdog.”

They fell into another comfortable silence before Willie said, “My parents are too busy to notice when I leave.”

Alex looked at him but Willie looked more uncomfortable than Alex had ever seen him.

“Would you like me to ramble about how gorgeous and brilliant you are?” Alex said, hoping to ease the tension in Willie’s shoulders.

He succeeded.

Willie buried his head in his hands with an anguished cry, “Let me forget that ever happened.”

“No, because I won’t.” Willie looked up again at his serious tone and smiled, reaching forward slowly to cup Alex’s cheek.

“You still have a question left,” Alex whispered breathlessly.

“Will you let me kiss you?” Willie asked, also a little breathless.

“Yes.”

12 notes · View notes

talpup · 3 years

Text

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Sorry about the late update. It was a super busy weekend, and my three big chronic illness bad's are still making me pay the price. Anyway, here you all go. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 96

It was near midnight. All the Captain's were tired, irritable, and on edge. They were meeting because Yami and Teris had never checked-in this evening when Jax had explicitly ordered his Vice Captain's to do so before lights out.

The Black Bulls Captain focused his glare on his fist which rested on the table as questions were asked, hypothesis given, and ideas about what to do were put forth. He blamed himself for Yami and Teris’ disappearance, certain that the Agents of Chaos had taken them.

Having reported to Greywright before this meeting was called, Jax had encouraged the Commander to question the supposed traitor Flic about Yami and Teris’ disappearance. But, Greywright had told him it would do no good. During his interrogation of Flic yesterday afternoon, Greywright had learned that the man knew nothing of the details concerning Alowishus’ plans. Jax would've liked some time alone with Flic anyway. Not to question the man; but simply to beat one of the Agents of Chaos, even if that person was no longer aligned with them.

“I question keeping up the search. Especially this late at night. We went out this morning looking for two Vice Captains and instead of finding them, we lost two more.” Jamie said.

“You sound scared.” Win taunted.

“I’m concerned for the safety of my squad. For all our squads.” Jamie said.

“We’re Magic Knights. We don’t abandon anyone, least of all our own.” Kess said, fiercely.

“I’m not saying we give up.” Jamie told, thinking Pyter would’ve understood if he were still Captain of the Silver Eagles.

“You’ve always been a selfish ass. I doubt you’d want to continue even if it was your own Vice Captain missing.” Mereoleona fumed.

“We don’t even know who took them or why. Blindly searching has done nothing but thinned our resources and wear our Magic Knights to exhaustion, and it’s only been a day.” Danise said.

Whilf nodded in agreement. “There has to a better way to go about this.”

“Better then searching for four Magic Knights Vice Captain’s?” Mereoleona stormed in challenge of the Purple Orcas Captain.

“No one’s saying that. But fumbling around hoping to stumble upon something isn’t working.” Breigha said.

Mereoleona could hardly argue with her friend. During her own futile search this afternoon she had wanted to torch the four kingdoms until whoever took her brother returned him, begging for mercy. She’d fry the fools and then pummel Fuegoleon for letting himself be taken.

“Do we even have an idea if they were taken because they’re all Magic Knights, or three of them royal?” Win asked.

“I’m guessing none of the families have received any word or demands?” Danise tendered. The Coral Peacocks Captain looked from Mereoleona to Julius. She glanced at Kess figuring as Nozel’s Captain she would've been in contact with Nathyn Silva or at least a representative from the royal house.

Julius rapped his knuckles on the tabletop with a silent curse. Just like last year, and two months ago during the Spade Kingdom mess, he had forgotten to send message to Fyntch about Teris being taken. When he had finally gotten around to writing Fyntch last year he hadn’t mentioned that Teris had been taken; simply saying he was sure Fyntch had seen the beam that lit up the sky the morning of the Summer Solstice and assuring him that he and Teris were okay. As for the happening with the Spade Kingdoms Magic Scientist Rayla, he hadn’t bothered sending Fyntch message and told Teris as much so she wouldn’t mention it to their brother.

Having met with Lord Leonidas himself and spoken with House Silva’s representative, Jorah said. “Neither the Silva’s or Vermillion’s have reported receiving demands or word of admission and intent.”

Jamie scoffed, thinking that the Silva’s and Vermillion’s were too proud to admit to it if they had. The two royal houses likely had their own people looking into things and would handle the matter privately if they came across anything.

Whilf looked at the Wizard Kings Advisor. “Has Magic Investigations unearthed anything of use?”

Ellara shook her head sadly at the Purple Orcas Captain. “My people have been out all day checking in with their sources and questioning people searching for some kind of lead. We haven’t given up. But as yet, they have discovered nothing that would tell us who took the Vice Captain's or why.” She looked at Julius, Mereoleona, Jax, and Kess. “I’m sorry.”

Julius and Jax stared at the Wizard Kings Advisor, both thinking Ellara was far from sorry but would be.

96.2

Yami noticed how Calen stuck close by them as he and Teris were made to walk through the portal. Given that Teris had once broken through Calen’s negating magic the first time she had light traveled, it was justifiable that they were concerned.

“Leon! Nozel!” Teris rushed forward only to be grabbed by a cloaked figure.

Yami punched the Agent of Chaos not seeing or caring if the person was a man or woman. He pulled Teris out of their grasp, holding her to him.

“Peace, Livia.” Calen told the woman as Alowishus stepped through the gateway.

Livia stood down and tenderly touched her face.

Hands bound above his head, hanging from a tree branch, Fuegoleon’s eyes blinked slowly open.

Tied and swaying beside the Crimson Lion, Nozel croaked, barely able to lift his head. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice.” Yami said, looking them over.

Nozel took in a slow, shallow, shuddering breath; grimacing at the pain the small movement brought.

Teris tried once more to step to them, but Yami held her firm least someone attempt to stop her again.

Teris trembled in Yami’s arms, a fearful rage building. Nozel and Fuegoleon were alive but they were a battered, bloody mess. And that was only the injuries she could see. They had been in the Agents of Chaos’ custody for little more than twenty-four hours. Who knew what those monsters had done to them.

One eye swollen shut. The other, vision tinted red by blood. Nozel told Yami. “First chance you get, you get her out of here.”

Teris shook her head, angry worried tears blurring her sight. Though she had no idea how they were going to manage it, she promised Nozel and Fuegoleon. “No matter what it takes. We’re going to get you out of this.”

“I’m glad you said that; because you hold the way to freedom for your Intended and your cousin. The path to seeing them live through this is a simple one.” Alowishus said, stepping toward her and Yami.

Teris turned to face him. “Let them go and I’ll do it.”

“Teris... No--” Fuegoleon’s lips moved, sound barely coming out. His voice faltered, weakly coughing up blood.

Yami uttered a stream of curses, his grip on Teris tightening. He scowled at Alowishus and the surrounding Agents of Chaos in the low, flickering firelight of Piper’s magic. He would kill every single one of them even if it took his entire life to hunt down every member of Alowishus’ followers.

“That’s not how this goes.” Alowishus told Teris. “Your friends go free only after you and Yami do as I say. Play difficult and we will continue harming them until you do or they die; whichever comes first. But I warn you. They proved difficult themselves, refusing to answer the simplest questions. It’s left them in bad shape. I doubt they’d be able to survive much more.”

Fuegoleon’s eyes slowly lifted, too weak to rise his heavy head. He wanted to tell Teris not to listen. He would rather die than have his cousin agree to whatever these people wanted. But no matter hard he tried, his brain couldn’t make his chapped bleeding lips form the words.

Yami didn’t need a better look at Fuegoleon and Nozel to know Alowishus was telling the truth. It was clear they had been tortured and were in really rough shape. Nozel’s head lolled. Though it was difficult to tell if the man was unconscious or not.

“What do you want?” Yami asked.

“To get to the treasure vault of a labyrinth.” Alowishus said.

“What? You and your people so lacking that you need us for such a simple task.” Yami mocked.

“This isn’t any labyrinth, Yami. The contents of the vault are meant for you and Teris. Destined for the two of you to find and receive.” Alowishus told.

“Labyrinth 297,353.” Teris breathed.

Alowishus smiled. “I see you’ve heard of it.”

Yami looked at Teris in question.

Teris stared back, both surprised and not that Yami didn’t remember. “He wants us to collect the Future of Chaos.”

“Not just the two of you.” Alowishus said, keen ears hearing Teris’ whisper. “I will be going down with you to also receive the page.”

Yami turned to the man. “The History of Chaos has been nothing but a curse. Like hell I’m going to the labyrinth that has the Future of Chaos. I’d rather see those two die.”

“As you wish.” Alowishus’ eyes slid to the Mage that stood beside Nozel and gave a slight nod.

Nozel’s body tensed and began to squirm. Hanging from his arms, he began to swing. His muscles spasmed at the pain. Teeth pressed together trying to hold back the cry that bubbled in his throat.

Yami couldn’t see any outward wounds being made. But when blood began to come from Nozel’s ears, nose, eyes, and mouth, he barked. “Stop!”

Alowishus tilted his head at Yami, not yet giving the signal for the Mage to cease. “Agree.”

Yami glared.

Nozel began to scream.

Voice caught in fear and horror, Teris’ trembled, knuckles white as she clutched onto Yami’s upper arms.

“We’ll do it. We’ll go.” Yami broke.

Alowishus smiled. “Excellent.”

The signal was given and the Mage stopped.

Alowishus held a beckoning hand out to Teris. “Come here.”

Yami’s arm tightened around Teris’ waist. But he hadn’t needed to worry, she didn’t even try to move.

“It appears you require another lesson in how this goes.” Alowishus turned to the Mage and told. “Don’t be so gentle this time.”

Whatever the man was doing, he did it to both Nozel and Fuegoleon. Both their bodies seized. The Crimson Lion and Silver Eagle crying out. Teris tired to take a step toward Alowishus but Yami held her in place. She squirmed in his arms, pushing at his chest; but Yami refused to release her.

Teris looked up Yami at single tear rolling from its bank and down her cheek. “Please.”

Yami shook his head even as his hold slowly released. Teris stepped away him. He made to follow but was barred by someones arm. They didn’t dare touch him, but it was enough to stay his steps.

Teris was more than halfway to him when Alowishus gave his man a nod.

Teris’ steps ceased. Her head started to turn to look over her shoulder at Fuegoleon and Nozel when suddenly Alowishus was right in front of her. His hand clasped her jaw, fingers digging into her cheeks as he turned her to face him.

The next thing Teris knew, Alowishus was kissing her. No. It wasn’t really a kiss. Though that didn’t make it any less unnerving or make her stop trying to push away. It was more like the way a mother bird feeds her young. Only in this case, Alowishus was forcing a thick, vaporous substance down her throat.

Yami broke the arm barring his way and rushed forward. He was tackled and held down by three men. A cloak of mana flickered around Yami like a sputtering candle flame, present one moment and gone the next.

Calen ground his teeth. His magic fighting to negate Yami’s.

Mana skin blinking in and out of existence, Yami threw one of the men holding him into another that was coming to assist. He got to his feet and tossed a second against a tree trunk ten meters away,

“Stand back.” Slade told the third that was still trying to hold Yami back from their Master. The Rope Mage created a glowing rope. It wrapped around Yami, binding him tight.

Yami fell to the ground. He pulled and struggled against the magical binds, yelling curses and threats.

Alowishus released Teris and staggered back. Misandre was there to help steady her Master.

Teris fell to her knees. Sputtering, she coughed up dense black smoke. Her eyes watered, at the burning cold that seeped through her body into her very soul.

“What the hell did you do to her! I’ll kill you!” Yami roared, the magical ropes breaking nearly as fast as Slade could create them.

“I merely replenished her mana stores. You should thank me. In her depleted state she wouldn’t have survived receiving the Future of Chaos, let alone whatever dangers we might cross down there.” Alowishus looked down at Teris who was on all fours choking up thick black puffs. “Your system is adjusting to foreign mana. It’s not a perfect exchange, but you’ll be fine.”

Yami snarled. His fighting didn’t let up, even as Teris’ coughing eased.

“Let him go to her.” Alowishus ordered.

As soon as Slade’s magic released, Yami was on his feet. He rushed to Teris, sliding to his knees to stop beside her. His arm wrapped around her jerking shoulders as she continued to sputter.

“You alright?” Yami asked, pushing her hair back from her face.

Teris nodded, still wheezing. She wiped the stale taste of Alowishus off her mouth and spit, wisps of black mana escaping her mouth and nose like smoke. She pushed up to her knees, a shaking hand gripping Yami’s arm for balance. “Leon? Nozel?”

Yami glanced over at the still bound men. Neither Nozel or Fuegoleon moved. Their breathing so shallow Yami couldn’t see the rise and fall of their chests. Through his sense of their Ki, he was able to pick up on their faint breaths and weakened heartbeats.

“Still breathing.” It was the only thing Yami could say.

Alowishus turned away. “Let’s go. The new moon rises. We must be in the vault by its peak.”

“What’s a moonless night have to do with it?” Teris rasped, Yami helping her to her feet.

Alowishus turned back her. Rather than answer, he told. “Yami’s power might be on the rise. But he has still faced a small down trend as the Summer Solstice has neared. Your power, though lessening, will continue to grow slightly until the morning of the solstice.”

Yami looked at Teris seeing her frown at the unanswered question. He could see her mind working, trying to figure out the answer on her own.

“Before we head out. Turn around and look at your beloved friends.” Alowishus ordered.

Despite not wanting to do anything the man told her to, Teris couldn’t resist. She turned.

Yami stood in her way, wide shoulders and towering frame blocking her view. He gave her a slight shake of his head.

Teris stared up at him.

“Move and let her see them, Yami. You both should know the stakes any further disobedience will have.” Alowishus told.

“She doesn’t need to see them.” Yami said, eyes lifting to the man that called himself Death.

Alowishus stared back. For a moment it looked as if he would insist. With a sigh, he allowed. “Very well. You’ve seen the state of them, Yami. You know what testing me would mean. I doubt you want to be the cause of their deaths.”

Teris balked at that. She tried to step to the side, but Yami moved with her.

“So protective.” Alowishus smirked. Looking at Teris, he told. “It’s probably for the best. A sight like that will stay with you long after they’ve recovered, or died.”

“Leave her alone.” Yami growled.

Alowishus looked down at Teris. “Just so long as you’re aware. Timeis of the essence for the both of us. Your cousin won’t last more than two hours at most. Your Intended not lasting much longer after that. And that’s only if you behave and don’t kill them yourselves by having me set Nexis back to work on them.”

Yami glared at Alowishus. “We won’t try anything. Let’s just get on with it.”

“For the Prince’s sake I hope that’s true. I will be carrying a charm. If I activate it, Nexis continues his work until I deactivate it. If I’m injured, it activates immediately. If I am rendered unconscious, it activates immediately. As unlikely as such a happening is, if I am killed...” Alowishus smiled at the change in Yami’s eyes at the prospect.

“Let me guess. The charm activates.” Yami said.

“No. The charm crumbles to dust. As does the connecting ones left in the hands of my followers. If that happens, not only will the Silva and Vermillion heirs be instantly killed. But the Agents watching Captain's Julius and Jax, as well a the rest of your friends from afar, will spring into action killing them before they even realize there’s a threat.” Alowishus said.

“But you’ll be dead.” Yami said, as if the rest didn’t matter.

Alowishus gave a tight smile. “Only for a time. You cannot kill Death”

“Pretty sure if I removed your head you’ll die.” Yami said.

“I’ve heard that before. Sadly, only one such commenter was still around to see how wrong they were.” Alowishus sighed tiredly and raised a guiding arm. “Shall we?”

Taking Teris’ hand, Yami stepped after Alowishus. They walked for some time through the dark forest with only the dim glow of the accompanying Agents of Chaos’ grimoires to light the way.

While the mana Alowishus gave Teris might've bolstered her magics reserves. It didn’t do much to help against physical exhaustion. Seeing her start to lag, Yami looked ahead to Alowishus. “Didn’t you say time was of the essence? Why are we tripping through a moonless forest?”

“Misandre will see us inside the labyrinth, but first we must find it.” Alowishus said. Pausing his steps to stare at something in his hand.

“What do you got there?” Yami asked.

“Directions. Of a sort.” Alowishus looked over his shoulder at Yami. “Come have a look if you’d like.”

Yami slowly released Teris’ hand. He glared at the surrounding Agents of Chaos in warning. Grateful for the breather, Teris didn’t move to follow him.

Alowishus watched Yami as he stepped beside him and looked at what he held in his open palm.

Yami scowled. “Are those bones?”

“Finger bones to be precise. They’re from the maker of the labyrinth and are pointing us to the labyrinths entrance.” Alowishus smirked at Yami. “You see? I do my part to make things as easy and painless as I can for the two you. When we reach the area, Misandre will portal the three of us in. Once down there, we’ll make our way to the vault and the three of us will enter and receive the Future of Chaos.”

Yami raised a brow. “The three of us?” He scratched the back of his neck. “I might not have the brains Teris does. But I remember the paper sniffers at Investigations saying Yurist’s prophecy said the ones who found the History of Chaos would find its future. Seeing as you weren’t there when we got the first page of Chaos. I don’t see how you expect to get your hands on the second.”

Alowishus’ eyes darkened. “I’ve forgotten more about Yurist and his prophecy’s than the sum knowledge of the four kingdoms libraries and scholars combined. When it comes to such things, you must be careful, Yami. Yes, the prophecy says the two that find the History of Chaos will also find the Future of Chaos. But the key word there is find. Not receive.”

Yami looked at the man thinking that if the keyword was ‘find’ then Alowishus was still somehow wrong and in for a disappointment; because he and Teris weren’t finding anything, they were being led. Giving one last look at the bones that moved like a compass, Yami stepped back to Teris.

They walked a bit more until Alowishus stopped once again.

“Misandre. Here. Three hundred and seven meters down.” Alowishus glanced at Yami and Teris seeing they too had picked up on the numbers. He and his people still hadn’t learned the full meaning of Yami being a third seventh son; and as much as he wanted to question Yami further on it, now wasn’t the time.

Calen stepped to his Master, his concern evident. He remembered last years long lingering injury Alowishus had suffered from his battle with Julius Nova, and Yami and Teris’ combined attack.

“They know the stakes, and won’t try anything.” Alowishus soothed Calen. He looked at Yami and Teris. “Will you.”

Yami’s left hand rested on his katana’s hilt. “I suppose you’ll just have to trust us. Just like we’re having to trust you about not killing the royals, and letting us all go.”

Calen glared at Yami. “If you harm the Master. I’ll do more than kill your friends. I’ll find this Land of the Rising Sun and end every single member of the Sukehiro line.”

“Good luck with that.” Yami said, sure there had to be a family that went by Sukehiro in his homeland; unfortunately for Calen’s plans, it wasn’t Yami’s family.

Misandre opened up a portal. Alowishus gave the Spatial Mage a nod as he passed through. That’s when Yami saw the woman’s hands. Hands he’d recognize anywhere given the amount of times they had hit him and tried to crush his neck.

Yami pulled his katana from its sheath. “Those don’t belong to you!”

“Yami, don’t!” Teris grabbed his arm, not seeing how his eyes had flicked black for a fraction of a second.

Snarling at the woman wearing Bronn’s hands, Yami sheathed his katana. “I’ll soon see those off you and where they belong.”

96.2.2

“Teris. Give us some light.” Alowishus said from somewhere in the dark space.

Teris’ hand twitched tempted to light up the direction Spade’s voice sounded from and fry him. Her grip on Yami’s arm tightened, grateful they had stepped through the portal together.

Slowly, she lit up the area. The three blinked, their eyes adjusting.

Looking about the space, Alowishus told. “To use your terminology, the labyrinth isn’t active. With it not open and visible to the surface we will have to deal with the dark. But it also means that most of the beasts and traps will be in hibernation. Still, be on guard. The creatures that reside in places like this are more powerful during the new moon.”

“Which leads me to ask again. Why a moonless night?” Teris questioned.

Alowishus tilted his head. “The vault is this way.”

Senses alert to danger even if he didn’t appear to be, Yami commented almost conversationally. “I suppose we should be thankful that Bronn was such a good Spatial Mage. Without his hands, that woman probably would’ve deposited us between bedrock.”

“Noticed that did you?” Alowishus smiled, leading the way.

“Gotta admit, I half expected her to try and smack me upside the head.” Yami said.

“Parts taken carry a residual portion of a persons magic, not a remnant of the persons character.” Alowishus said.

“Why take Bronn’s hands at all? Were Erskin’s a little too chewed up by Saber Wolves? Or were the hands of your dead follower too painful to see?” Teris asked.

“When you have lived as long as I; such feelings of friendship, love, even hate all but fade away. I’m not so old that I’m incapable of affecting such emotions for the sake of others. But, just between the three of us. I feel little to nothing. Well, until the two of you showed up.” Alowishus stopped and turned to to face them. “You two have done much more than give me the means to reach my aims. You have made me feel again. First excitement. Then awe. I have long since forgotten what hope felt like. But I believe I may have begun to feel a bit of that as well.”

Teris’ brows furrowed. “Just how old are you?”

Alowishus wagged a finger at her. “A proper bred young royal like you should know it’s impolite to ask.”

“Just how old are you?” Yami questioned.

Alowishus smirked and turned away. “Come. Time runs short.”

Though they didn’t come upon any traps. They did happen upon two beasts. Just as Alowishus had said, the creatures were more difficult to subdue than expected. Finally they reached a large cavernous chamber with a set of towering double doors that looked near identical to the ones that had housed the History of Chaos.

“Our time together is almost over.” Alowishus said, as if saddened by the fact.

“You’ll keep your word and let us go.” Yami prompted.

“Of course. I’m a man of my word. After this, you and Teris are free to go. Until I next require you that is.”

“Nozel and Fuegoleon?” Teris questioned.

“Your beloved cousin and your Intended will be set free as well.” Alowishus said.

“Last time we faced a vault containing something having to do with Yurist and Chaos the doors snapped shut behind us and didn’t reopen till someone from the outside did so.” Yami said.

“That won’t be an issue.” Alowishus said.

“Why? Got a tracking charm on you that you’ll leave where you’re standing so the Spatial Mage with Bronn’s hands can portal here and open the doors when we’re done?” Yami asked.

“Clever. But no.” Alowishus told.

“Then what’s your plan for getting us out of there?” Teris questioned.

“Me.” Alowishus said.

“You?” Teris stared.

Alowishus’ expression darkened. “Even if you don’t trust me. Trust that I don’t want to be in that vault room any longer than necessary.”

Alowishus turned and looked at the vault doors. Excited as he was to once again see and this time receive the Future of Chaos, he wondered if his grandfather’s work would have him. And if added to his grimoire, what, if anything, the page of Chaos would show him.

96.3

Nozel’s eyes slowly opened. Even with the pain, thirst, hunger, and fatigue muddling his senses; he could feel a swell of mana not too far from where they were.

Guilt washed over him. Not just for Teris agreeing to whatever Alowishus wanted for his and Fuegoleon’s sake; but for the terrible state the Crimson Lion was in.

During their questioning, the Agents of Chaos had taken to torturing the other in effort to get them to comply. The tactic had worked a lot quicker on Fuegoleon, who had caved, reluctantly answering their questions. Nozel’s will to protect Teris and ability to tune things out had seen him hold out longer. Their tormentors cutting into Fuegoleon’s flesh and magically tearing at his insides as Alowishus calmly waited for Nozel to answer.

Much as he wanted to, Nozel couldn’t fully lay the blame of this on Yami. Not when he and Fuegoleon were being used to make Teris comply with Alowishus Spade’s wishes. Not when even he had broke for Fuegoleon’s sake and answered the mans questions. He tried to recall what those questions had been but currently couldn’t.

His still good eye, the other swollen shut, turned in the direction of the swelling mana. The direction Alowishus had taken Teris and Yami in. He hoped Teris was alright, and silently swore he’d kill Yami if the man let anything happen to her.

Still unconscious, Fuegoleon’s shallow breath rattled in his chest. The Crimson Lion was fading. Yami and Teris needed to hurry.

96.4

Yami’s head snapped up, sensing a rise in Alowishus’ mana.

Teris turned to the man as well, tone accusatory. “The peak of the new moon has a similar effect as the solstice does for us.”

“Not the peak of the new moon. The moment right before. When it is at its darkest. The height of the moons death, if you will.” Alowishus gestured to the closed vault doors. “After you.”

“Never been in a labyrinth where the vault doors didn’t open. Do we just bust in?” Yami asked.

Teris shook her head. “There’s magic holding the doors closed. If we try to force it, the reaction could be similar to our magic when it clashes.”

Yami looked up. “Under three hundred some odd meters of earth and stone. I don’t like our chances of surviving that.”

Teris turned to Alowishus. “The labyrinth’s not active. There is no way we can open the vault doors.”

“You disappoint me. Unless you’re hoping I’m that stupid.”

Teris’ mouth opened, but Alowishus continued on.

“I assure you. I didn’t go through all this trouble without being certain there was a way to open a sleeping labyrinths vault room.”

“Then do it.” Teris said.

“Now that does make me certain you know better. Did you forget the rules regarding your friends up top? Think you could see me dead by tricking me and light travel to them before my followers kill them?” Alowishus’ eyes darkened. “Open it up.”

“The mana you gave me— I doubt it’ll recognize it as mine.” Teris said.

“Then we will just have to hope your system was able to assimilate enough of it for the labyrinth to recognize it is you.” Alowishus said.

“What’s that?” Yami asked, looking between them.

Frowning at Alowishus, Teris explained. “If what Yurist wrote is true. Then our mana should be able to open the doors.”

“So why can’t he do that?” Yami asked.

Teris stepped before the doors. “Shall we.”

Yami scowled. “I asked you a question.”

“Leon and Nozel don’t have much time.” Teris told.

Yami stared a moment. Something was off. He didn’t like how Teris didn’t answer him. How she wouldn’t even look at him, staring straight at the door. But she was right. Braid Face and Lion Cub were in bad shape. They didn’t have much time.

Heaving a sigh, Yami tilted his head side to side, stretching his neck. “How much mana are we giving to open up this thing?”

Teris swallowed, nervously. “As much as it needs in order to recognize us as us.”

Yami did the same as Teris and placed his palm on the door. He slowly loosened his hold on his mana. Even a couple paces from Teris and in direct contact with the object he was letting his mana seep into, it was a struggle to keep it from veering to connect with hers.

A pressure beneath his hand built as if something other than the door was stretching out, making contact with him. It apparently approved, as it stopped taking in his mana forcing Yami to pull back on the eased harness of it least his lose control and his mana connect with Teris’.

Yami turned to Teris surprised she wasn’t done as she had started before him. He stepped to her. A prickle of foreboding tickling the back of his neck. “Teris?”

Watching Teris with interest, Alowishus warned. “I wouldn’t touch her.”

Yami spun to the man, temper and worry rising. “What’s happening?”

“It’s trying to decide if it’s really her.” Alowishus said.

“What do you mean, if it’s her? Of course it’s her.”

“Did you forget? I gave her a portion of my mana.” Alowishus said.

Yami’s muscles tensed, concern tipping into fear. His jaw clenched, understanding what Teris and Alowishus had been talking about. Understanding why she had avoided answering and had refused to look at him.

“I’m confidant her system has been able to assimilate enough of my mana and make it her own by now.” Alowishus eased.

“Bastard! I’ll kill you!” Yami stepped toward Alowishus, katana cloaked in darkness.

“Do you really wish to be the death of Teris’ beloved friends when you are so close to seeing them and yourselves go free? Or was this your secret plan all along? To lash out at me and get her Intended out of the way. Permanently.”

Katana raised to send a slash of darkness, Yami paused.

Alowishus lifted a shoulder, smirking. “I can’t say I blame you. You face enough trails with me and my plans as it is. It would undoubtedly be a relief not to have to deal with the mess of having to fight in order to make Teris yours. You know I could just activate the charm. We could finish up here and return to the top. It’ll simply appear to Teris as if they succumbed to their injuries. It will be our secret. She need never know.”

Yami glared. The cloak of darkness disappeared from his blade. “No.”

“I could send message for only Nozel to be put down.” Alowishus tempted. “Fuegoleon, if he still lives, isn’t the problem after all.”

“I said, no.” Yami growled. He sheathed his katana.

Teris fell to her knees.

Yami turned back and knelt beside her. “I got you. You alright?”

“Yeah.” Teris breathed.

Yami brushed her hair back noting how pale and feverish she was. “When we get outta here you and I are gonna talk about the chance you took without telling me.”

“Had to—for Nozel and Leon.” Teris panted, trembling hand wiping her sweat drenched brow.

Looking down at them, Alowishus felt a pang of disappointment that Yami hadn’t taken him up on his offer. Maybe it was merely because Death had helped create Darkness; but there was something about Yami that made him want to win the young man over.

Alowishus stepped in front of the opening vault doors. “Up. We still got our prize to receive.”

Ignoring the man, Yami asked Teris. “Can you stand?”

Still out of breath, Teris merely nodded.

Yami hooked her arm around his neck and wrapped his arm around her waist. Easily bearing most of her weight, he lifted her to her feet with him as he stood. “Let’s get this over with.”

They stepped into the vault with Alowishus. Yami and Teris looked at each other, puzzled when they weren’t congratulated by the same Crazy Happy Killer Voice that had greeted them when they received the History of Chaos.

If the labyrinths were created by the same person. Even if that person wasn’t Yurist himself. Then surely things would be similar. The doors and interior of the vault were almost identical.

At least this vault didn’t have bodies in various stages of decay, Teris morbidly thought.

Alowishus seemed to realize something was wrong as well. Mana flaring, the Master of the Agents of Chaos released a roar of fury. The chamber they were in shook around them. Dirt and stone raining down.

Yami held Teris tight, creating a shielding cocoon of blackness. “Get us out of here!”

Teris would’ve done so but for one thing. Her concern for Nozel and Fuegoleon’s lives. Alowishus still held that charm.

“Now!” Yami gritted, dark cocoon straining against the weight of the crumbling labyrinth.

Teris light traveled them to where they had last seen Fuegoleon and Nozel.

“Get away from them!” Alowishus ordered his people when they made to move against Yami and Teris.

Teris spun around. Yami’s shield dropped,

Teris’ hand lifted on instinct. She sent out a burst of incinerating light only for it to dim and slow as soon as if left her. Slowed as it was, it was still faster than most magical attacks.

Caught by surprised, Alowishus didn’t get a chance to move. The attack struck him in the chest. There was a moment of stillness as everyone stared.

Alowishus and Teris blinked at one another. They both knew he had been undefended and her direct hit should have instantly killed him.

Rage still consuming him, Alowishus counted this as one thing going his way this night. “It would seem your system hasn’t assimilated enough of my mana for it to harm me. Better luck next time.” He saw Yami reach for his katana and ordered. “Misandre. Quickly now.”

Alowishus didn’t wait around long enough to see if Misandre was able to portal his followers out in time. Breaking apart, he disintegrated into the earth.

Katana cloaking in darkness even as he unsheathed it from its scabbard, Yami sent out a several dark slashes. He cursed, knowing before they cut down the trees beyond that he was too slow. Alowishus and the Agents of Chaos were gone.

Yami turned to Fuegoleon and Nozel. With a swipe of his blade, he cut the Silver Eagle and Crimson Lion free. Hoping Alowishus' foreign mana wouldn’t adversely effect her light traveling Fuegoleon and Nozel, Teris took the four of them to Healers Hall.

96.5

Alowishus’ anger had barely calmed. Storming into his private office, he slammed the door behind him and made for the shelf behind his desk, picking up his father's skull.

“Your lied!” Alowishus roared, gripping the skull in both hands.

“I told you, your efforts would be futile.” A voice resonated in his head.

Alowishus shook the skull, not hearing the dead mans words. “The Future of Chaos was not there!”

“The Future of Chaos is not for you.” The voice of the skull sounded in his mind.

“I had a plan to work around that. It was faultless.” Alowishus snapped.

“Apparently not.” The voice said.

“You placed grandfathers work back inside labyrinth 297,353 after you retrieved it, putting special protections in place to keep me out.” Alowishus said.

“You mean after I took back what you stole?” The voice of Erin Spade questioned.

Alowishus snarled, grip tightening. “I had it in my grasp and you took it. Stole it.”

“You stole it first.”

Alowishus slammedthe skull down and turned away. He had barely been able to delve into the unfathomable knowledge that was the Future of Chaos before his father had ripped it from his grasp. He had been sure his father had placed the page back in labyrinth 297,353 for Yami and Teris to eventually find; certainthat his father had merely set barriers to block his re-entrance, since he had been unable to enter again until tonight.

“You placed grandfathers work back inside labyrinth 297,353 after you retrieved it.” Alowishus said, again.

“Did I?” His father's voice sounded in his mind.

“You moved the Future of Chaos to another location!”

“You moved it first when you stole it.”

“You changed the future Yurist saw. You ruined Yami and Teris’ destiny to have the Future of Chaos.” Alowishus accused.

“More thanlikely, I kept theprophecy concerning the Future of Chaosin tact. While my father’s prophetic words could often be unclear. That one sentencewas quite clear. Findand receive. It could hardly be said those twofound the labyrinth, what with you setting upon them and forcing them to bend to yourwill and go down there. I have full confidence that Yami and Teris will find and receive my father’s final work, if they haven’t already.”

“What do you mean haven’t already?” Alowishus demanded.

“Destiny canonly be bent to your will so far before it snapsback to its own designs, Fin.”

Alowishus sneered at beingcalledby his first life's name. “I will have my way, Old Man. Yami and Teris will help me awaken Chaos and see to a finalend. I will get what I have worked sevenexistencesfor.”

“Good luck doing it without the Future of Chaos.” The voice taunted.

“You are useless and more infuriating every time I speak to you. I should ground your bones to dust and forget you ever lived.”

“I wish you would.” The skull of Erin Spade said.

“That would bring you too much joy. Finally finding your rest after all these years. No. You will not rest until I have my way.” Picking up the skull, Alowishus set it back on the shelf. “Till the death of the next moon, Old Man. Know that I won’t enjoy the three nights of your company anymore than you will mine.”

Comments are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day. Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently commented or re-blogged. It really means a lot.

Next chapter snippet:

“He’s ill.” Jax said.

“How ill?” Marx asked.

“Deathly.” Yami rumbled.

#yami sukehiro #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #julius novachrono #mereoleona vermillion #black clover #light in the darkness

7 notes · View notes

maple-writes · 3 years

Text

[Image ID: Banner image reading: The City of Eventide, Chapter 33, Maple-writes. End ID

Wild that we're finally here at the second-last chapter already

###

Next week Ginger came by and brought me to the doctor she’d been discussing my case with. Her office seemed comfortable enough, the waiting room decorated with big leafy plants and the radio playing low from some unseen speaker. She spoke kindly, gently, patiently waiting whenever I stumbled over my answers and had trouble figuring out how to explain in any kind of way that made sense. After what felt like far longer than a regular appointment should have been, she handed me a page of lab work and tests she wanted done and sent me on my way.

The rest of the week went fast, Ginger helping me wherever she could with the doctor’s orders. As much as I was certain she’d explained them all to me back in her clinic most of it went over my head, but according to Striker they made sense. It was exhausting, though, having to spend so much time out of the house. Even if Ginger was right there, even if I knew she’d be able to help if something went wrong, I could still feel the tension building around my lungs with the first breath of fresh air. As soon as I’d get home I hardly had the energy to do anything more than crawl into bed and fall asleep.

The therapist Ginger put me in contact with seemed nice when we spoke over the phone. I’d tuck myself away in my bedroom when she called, pacing back and forth across the floor. Sometimes Ginger would drive me to her office to see her in person. She turned out to be a selkie, one of Millie’s distant cousins. Smooth stones and intricate shells decorated her office shelves and a tray of soft sea-floor sand always sat on a little table nearby. Cool against my skin I couldn’t help but run my hands through the dry sand as we spoke, slipping grains filed down by decades of ocean current through my fingers until it was time to go home.

Tests finally done I went back and the doctor welcomed me back to walk through the results. Aside from nutrient deficiencies nothing seemed medically wrong, nothing alarming at least. According to her it gave weight to Ginger’s theory that part of what I ate ceased to exist before I could get anything out of it. She suggested vitamins and some calorie-dense supplements to see if that helped and sent me off to check back in a couple months or so.

Then it was back home, pacing around every room of the house while Striker was gone. At least this time Ember was there too. Sometimes anyway. Sometimes she was busy talking with Ginger, listening as she extended the same offer she’d given me to help if she ever feared she’d do something she’d regret. Whatever they were doing it seemed to be working out. Standing next to her no longer felt like too much, like standing inches from wildfire. Now instead the warmth and energy that escaped her skin reminded me of warm candles, comforting and contained. Maybe it was what she and Ginger were doing, or maybe it was me. Maybe it was something we’d done, something she’d taught me to manage.

Every night she’d try again to get me out of the house, convincing me to give it another go, but every night I didn’t make it much farther than the end of the block. Once out of frustration she snapped at me when we got home and we fought, snarling and spitting until—

“Hey!” Striker’s yell from the top of the stairs startled me into whirling. He stood shaky on the landing, a white-knuckle grip on the top of the handrail. “Get out of here if you’re going to fucking kill each other! Tear each other apart throw each other into the ocean I don’t care, I don’t fucking care!

I flinched as Striker disappeared from the hall and slammed his bedroom door sending a shudder through the house. Time froze for heartbeat after heartbeat until Ember silently slipped away to clear her head. I took to the couch to calm down, shoulders hunched and guilt sitting heavy in my gut before slipping up the stairs to Striker’s room to apologize. The door was shut, and locked when I tested the handle. I knocked, guilt already replacing the anger that’d been burning through my lungs just moments earlier.

“Go away!” Striker shouted through the door, then after a moment added quieter, “leave me alone, okay?”

My shoulders slouched and I couldn’t think of anything to say, turning away and retreating to my own bedroom. Quiet echoed in my ears broken by the wind through the trees or the occasional car passing outside, soft through my window opened just a crack. Even after the guilt and the weight on my ribs faded to blanket tiredness, I stayed up, eyes heavier with every minute, sitting on the edge of my bed until I heard Ember come home just to know that she did.

The next morning Striker seemed better, greeting me with a smile, even if a cautious one that avoided my face, as he drank his coffee in the kitchen. I sat on one of the stools, wringing my hands together under the counter. Nothing too bad had happened last night, I’d stopped when he said so, no one got hurt, but…

“Striker,” I took a deep breath, “sorry about last night. I, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He didn’t react right away, leaning back against the far counter and taking a long drink. “I know.” He sighed into his mug, watching me over the rim. “You were fighting over going to the park, right?”

I nodded, guilt sitting heavy on my shoulders. When he put it like that it sounded like nothing. Sounded like we’d gone and scared him for nothing.

Striker shrugged. “Why don’t I just drive you both? Avoid whatever it is that’s freaking you out on the way there.”

Why hadn’t I thought of that? I lifted my head and stared at him across the kitchen. “That… That would be nice.”

“Why don’t we go tonight then?” Striker said. “If Ember’s up for it too. I’ll ask her later today.”

I smiled, shoulders sloping as I leaned on the countertop. “Thanks, Striker.” Excitement bubbled up deep in my gut. Striker would be there, we’d get there safe and sound and private. Ember would probably be thrilled.

Just before midnight, Striker corralled me and Ember into his car and pulled away from home. On my own in the back I sank into the seat, staring out the window at the streetlights, the stoplights and odd lit window passing by. Striker kept the radio low and soft in the dark. He and Ember mumbled with each other up front, but I didn’t pay close enough attention to figure out what they might have been talking about. Whatever it was it couldn’t have been heavy with Striker laughing low and rumbling at something Ember said.

Lights grew further and further apart as we left the main roads of the city behind for the lead-in to the park. Pines towered dark and steadfast, blocking out the last of the glow against the grey night clouds. Striker slowed the car at the closed gate, pulling over to the shoulder to park. Engine cut and headlights out we sat in the dark, in the quiet.

Striker leaned back, stretching his shoulders. “I’ll wait here, just come find me when you’re done.”

“Why don’t you come too?” Ember asked, quiet and hoping. “We can show you the way up.”

“Really?” He glanced between her and me. “You sure?”

The two of us nodded together. How many times had he asked me to take him up here, to see Ember when I’d go out at night? He didn’t have to think long before pushing his door open into the dark. We piled out, car doors shutting and echoing against the gently swaying trees. A near-ocean breeze shook needles and immature cones from their branches, sending them sprinkling down over our shoulders.

I took a deep breath of cool air, fresh and quiet. My shoulders eased and heartbeat after heartbeat the knot in my stomach faded away. The dark blocked my sight, pressing against every side like a thick blanket. Scattered foliage and dropped twigs sunk under my feet as I followed Ember and Striker up the trail. We kept him between us just in case he miss-stepped or took a wrong turn, steering him on the right path once we left the trail behind for undergrowth. Dewy ferns brushed at my pants and little night creatures scurried away through the bushes as we picked our way over roots and rocks. More than once Striker stumbled, swearing under his breath even as we caught him mid fall.

Trees thinned and the lake emerged, dark and inky in the dim light. Surrounding the pebbled shore stood pointed, needle-less trees. I’d done that. I’d stripped them bare and left them to die like that. Ember and Striker kept going to the lake shore, but I stood, hesitating on the tree line. I’d all but destroyed this place.

“Hey,” Ember called, her figure nothing more than a horned shadow. “Are you coming?”

Right. Thinking about it wouldn’t change what happened, but when I stepped out into the clearing I stepped out onto fresh grass. Shrubs and sprouting wildflowers grew out between dead tree trunks, fresh saplings stretching up towards the darkened sky. Bats flew haphazard paths overhead in pursuit of unseen insects. Across the clearing the white tail of a fleeing deer flashed before it vanished into the dark. I slowed, reaching down to trail my hand over the delicate leaves of a tall plant with little light flowers. This place… So much growing back, living, blooming. My throat tightened. It hadn’t even been a year.

Ember and Striker found the rock by the lakeside, scootching over to make room for me at Striker’s other shoulder. Its surface, smoothed by decades of wind and rain, pressed cool against my hands and even through my clothes. The breeze too, dipping down under the trees and driving tiny waves to lap against the shore, blew chilled against my face, crisp and clean. Just like I remembered.

Something rattled in Ember’s backpack as she rummaged through its contents. The side of an old, worn down container glinted just a little in the low light as she pulled it out with a pair of mugs.

She leaned across Striker’s lap, handing one of them to me before smiling at him. “You can use the cap, it’s like a little cup.”

Ember reached over again, pouring hot chocolate out for all of us. It warmed my hands, softly steaming in the dark. Striker’s shoulder, brushing against mine, was warm too. Warm and familiar and safe.

“So this is where you’d run off to?” Striker said, low and soft in the forest quiet.

Ember nodded on his other side, crossing her legs and leaning forward. “Yeah.” She took a sip of her drink, eyes wandering across to the far shore. “And where I’d go to meet Asher after…”

She trailed off, words dissolving into the night. She didn’t need to finish, we both knew. Both knew what she was talking about. I brought my mug to my mouth, pausing a moment before drinking. The last time we’d met here, when I’d tried to tell her again to come home, tried to convince her it would be okay, was that really a year ago?

“I don’t know if I ever properly apologized,” Ember whispered, eyes straight ahead. “For what I did. I’m, I’m so sorry Striker, Asher.” Her voice faltered. “For everything.”

Seconds passed, each longer than the last. Striker sighed down to his hands curled around his cup.

Tentatively, he reached his arm around her shoulders, holding her against his side when she melted. “I just wish you came home sooner.” He finished his cup and set it down on the rock beside him before draping his arm around me too, bringing me in close. “I… Sometimes I can’t believe you’re both really here. I haven’t lost either of you.”

I closed my eyes and rested my head against Striker’s side, his arm around me warm and familiar and safe. Ember’s breath shook in the quiet air, soft and private. How many times had she sat here alone wanting this to happen? Sat alone on this rock in the forest thinking she’d never have anything like this again? I shifted, squinting at the fresh growth under the faint blue-white night glow. Had I really thought that much different in this same place?

A soft breath came before Ember’s whisper. “Tomorrow, can we stop at the cemetery?”

Noon had come and gone by the time the three of us were up and out of the house. Again I hid in the backseat of Striker’s car, peering out at the world under bright sunlight as it passed outside the window. Ember sat in the passenger seat. She shifted every few minutes, fidgeting and readjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. Even through the seat back sharp warmth met my skin. Nerves prickled along my own arms, along the palms of my hands. For years she hadn’t worked herself up enough to come here, especially not with Striker at her side. I swallowed. It was bright out too. There were people walking up and down the sidewalks, families, dog-walkers… What if something happened? To me, to her?

No. I leaned back, closed my eyes and took a long breath. I could handle it. Even if something happened I could handle it. I’d done it before, I could do it again now. Especially after all that time with Ginger.

Striker parked the car and got out first, leaning against the side as he waited for me and Ember to gather ourselves. She twisted around to catch my eye and for a moment we held each other’s gaze. Then it was over. She popped her car door open and I followed suit out onto the sidewalk.

Sunshine warmed my back and the sounds of cars and people hit me as soon as my feet met concrete. I stiffened, jaw clenching and chest tightening, but nothing. The odd pedestrian casted a curious glance at Ember, eyes wandering over her one and a half horns, her bright red eyes, but most didn’t risk staring. No one seemed to care about me, notice me at all. Even still I had to force myself to keep breathing deep and controlled as I followed almost on top of Striker’s heels.

Stepping into Seaview Cemetery though, the noise of the street fell quiet behind thick green hedges. Slowly I let the distance between me and Striker grow, my heartbeat gradually coming back down. The bright air simmered with the dead just watching, waiting, taking their time before choosing to move on. Each kept their distance, still wanting nothing to do with me, with anyone. We weren’t their relatives, their loved ones after all. Just some visitors no different than any other.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of a sea-salted breeze that tugged at my hair and rustled leaves of twisted trees overhead. Shade dappled the ground and danced over my eyelids until I bumped into Striker’s back. I blinked and stammered an apology but he hadn’t seemed to notice, focused instead on Ember’s hand on his arm.

“I…” She spoke lightly, like the wind through the shrubs laden with fresh flower buds. “I think I’d like to go ahead alone, for now.”

Striker nodded, hesitating as she withdrew her hand. “They’re just a little further down that way.”

I watched her go, head down and walking towards two familiar headstones. She found them and stopped, and Striker gently tugged at my elbow.

“We should give her some privacy.”

Right. Guilt gnawed at my gut as I let Striker lead my away. I should have known. He found a bench in a sunny patch just off the patch beside some freshly blooming shrubs and I took a seat beside him. The bush buzzed low and humming with bees visiting the fragrant blooms. Each bobbed from flower to flower, burying themselves in the petals and zipping off to disappear in the pale blue sky when they’d had their fill of nectar.

Striker pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and put them on, leaning back with an arm around the back of the bench. “I can’t remember if I told you,” His voice drew me back from the insects. “Kyra and I are heading out to the island this weekend. We’ll be leaving Friday morning, come back sometime Sunday night.”

“Just you two?” He didn’t think I could handle something like that, did he? I could already feel fatigue dragging at my bones from just coming this far in the middle of the day.

Striker raised his eyebrows a moment before scratching at the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, uh, yes. Just me and Kyra.” Oh. “I’m sure you’ll be alright.”

As much as the thought of me and Ember being alone that long made my stomach twist, I had to tell myself he was probably right. I could handle it. It might be hard but I could handle it. He wouldn’t be going at all if he thought I’d be in danger.

I slumped back in the bench, closing my eyes against the sun’s glare and letting it carefully warm my face. He deserved it, something nice like that after all he’d done for me. After all that time he must have spent worried sick over me. This weekend though… It would be six years Saturday. I stopped myself at the last second from asking about it. Of course he knew, how could he not? He was here today too, maybe that was close enough.

“Have you figured out if you’re going back to the college?”

I squinted against the sun, turning my head to face Striker as he waited for an answer. “Not yet. Haven’t heard anything from Ginger.” I sighed. “Last time we spoke she seemed optimistic though.” At least one of us seemed to think I even could handle a return.

Striker hummed to himself. “That’s good.” He stretched his arms above his head. “Seems like you still have time to think it over.”

I nodded. Chances were if I did go back I’d have to brush up on almost everything anyway after so long away. It’d take some time to get back into the full swing of it and maybe that was a good thing. Easing back might not be so bad.

Movement caught the corner of my eye and I turned as Ember rounded one of the flowering bushes. The sun caught her hair making it shine bright red as she approached, warm as the gentle heat shimmering in the air around her body. I stood and she led the way back to the headstones where we stood together in the shade.

#the city of eventide #chapter 33 #my writing #fiction #this took a while lol #but here we are #I probably could have kept working on it and being a perfectionist #but I had to stop somewhere lol

4 notes · View notes

junie-bugg · 4 years

Text

The Heartrender - Chapter Four: Flames

Here it is! The last chapter of ‘The Heartrender’!

In which I finally post the Everlark smut, lmao.

You can read here on Tumblr or here on AO3.

Happy reading💕

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content

Relationship: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark

Tags: Enemies to Lovers, witch!Katniss, witch-hunter!Peeta, AU - Shipwrecked, AU - Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Furs and Fires, Angst and Fluff and Smut, sexually experienced Katniss, virgin Peeta, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Loss of Virginity, Laughter During Sex, Blood and Injury, Imprisonment, Peeta has some prejudices to work out, Peeta also has an accent, Inspired by Six of Crows

Summary:

He hated her. He hated her for what she was: an abomination, a demon sent to tear at the fabric of the natural world. He hated her for making him want to laugh. He hated her for being so brazen and sensuous and everything the women of his country were never allowed to be. But mostly he hated her because he realized he didn’t hate her. Not even a little bit.

After a shipwreck has left an abducted witch and a member of the ominous Order bent on wiping out her kind stranded on the icy shores of an uninhabited land, the two must work together to survive or face tearing each other apart in the process.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Chapter Four: Flames

He was shivering on the front stoop when she brought him a cup of nettle tea. The smell was similar to that of the tea he’d had back home, though in his mother’s house they made sure to only steep birch bark and angelica root. Giving a guest nettle tea was a sign of poverty and god forbid the Mellarks confirm what the entire town already knew to be true. He sloshed the steaming gray-green liquid around, eyeing it warily. The ceramic felt rough against his palm. The heat was welcome after so long outside, but instead of accepting her peace offering, he set it down on the stone step.

“It’s not poisoned,” she said sharply. “I wouldn’t do that.”

He scratched at his beard, a bitter laugh bubbled out of his throat. The perfect picture of forced nonchalance. “But you’d burst my heart. So much for that truce.” He had tried to avoid looking at her but couldn’t help but glance up when she didn’t respond.

Her eyes were rimmed with red and she had changed out of her nightgown. She now wore a simple white and blue frock. It was the kind that milkmaids wore in the Sjorkden countrysides during the summertime, though this one lacked the swirling embroidery and was made of a warmer, thicker cloth. The sleeves shone white against her deep skin and her hair floated loosely about her face, the inky color of obsidian pulled from the depths of the very earth. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively.

“You have no idea…” she started but then trailed off.

“No idea of what?” he pressed.

“You have no idea how much you scare me.” She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand and then turned away from him, looking out into the mountainous distance. He was struck with how young she looked in that moment. Just a girl really. Frightened and cold and half a world away from home.

“At first I was scared of…” Her eyes darted back to his. “Well, look at you. You’re massive. But also the fact that you despise me without even knowing me. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

Peeta didn’t respond. From infancy, he had been taught to fear her kind. Witches were monsters. Demons. Barely even human. First instilled in him by his mother and after he ran away from home, the masters. Those fears were settled as deep as his very bone marrow and wouldn’t be so easily uprooted. But as he watched the breeze play with her hair and the subtle movement of her skirts as she shifted from foot to foot, the hateful voices of his kin quieted ever so slightly.

“Say something,” she said weakly.

“You could have killed me…but you stopped yourself… ” He was trying to make sense of it all, and once again, the only conclusion he came to was that he owed her. He had owed her the moment she pulled him from the sea and perhaps he would never stop. She was always sparing his life. What had he done in return?

She stared down at her feet and Peeta realized with a start that he was admiring the slender curve of her neck, the same soft stretch of skin he made a habit of caressing at night when she wasn’t aware of him. This wasn’t right. He bit the inside of his cheek, summoning his anger back up. It wasn’t as readily equipped as it had once been.

“If you had drawn a sword on me a few days ago, I think I would have killed you. But now I… I don’t want you to…” She swallowed, the words were as thick as a paste in her mouth. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Her confession made him uncomfortable. It was like she had rolled over and was showing him her soft underbelly. It wasn’t like her.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want us to trust each other.”

“That might prove to be a mistake,” he pointed out. “We haven’t had the best track record.”

“I know,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. “But I’m tired of being afraid.”

She had spared him, more than once, even when it could prove dangerous for her to do so. She had kept his heart beating and his blood warm even when it would have been easy to let him freeze to death. She said she was tired, Peeta realized that he was too, and without him even meaning for it, the iron chains of his preconceptions shifted.

“No matter what you paint me to be, I’m no monster,” she said as she bent down to pick up the tea. Her hair brushed the stone step.

“Then what are you?” Peeta asked.

“A survivor. Just like you.” At that moment, her face was unreadable, stone-like, as if she carried a whole uncharted world inside herself that Peeta would never touch. But there, if you looked closely as she placed a gentle hand to his shoulder and pressed the tea back into his palm, there was a chink in the armor. Like when she had allowed him to listen to her heartbeat, something so intimate and out of place between the bickering and long stretches of wary silence between them.

It was a softening of sorts, a slivered glimpse through branches and into the clearing beyond, as if all other encounters he had witnessed before were of shifting leaves, ripples in a lake, half versions of a girl, and this was the first time Peeta had the courage to look closely and really see her.

He wondered what she saw in him.

There was a tenderness in her eyes, and in response to the pressure of her hand, a blooming warmth opened in Peeta’s chest the same way a door opens on rusted, unused hinges. Slowly and with great difficulty, as if out of practice, but open all the same.

That was until her eyes narrowed, her lips twisted unpleasantly, and she said: “Don’t ever point your sword at me again, or I swear to god I’ll make you piss yourself.”

They followed the coastline, sleeping in abandoned whaling lodges some nights and huddled together behind boulders on others. The times when they had no lodge were the toughest on the witch since she felt it her duty to stay up to keep them warm. She’d be drained and sleep-deprived the next day and their speed would be greatly diminished.

Peeta offered to carry her. It was the least he could do in exchange for all she had done for him, and she was so light it’d be no burden at all, but her pride was a delicate thing and she refused every time. That was until they hadn’t set foot in a lodge in three days and she was on the verge of collapsing. Peeta didn’t ask this time, he just scooped her up and let her sleep with her face pressed into his chest.

“You’ve started smiling in your sleep. Did you know that?” she mumbled groggily one day as Peeta walked with her in his arms.

He chuckled, the crystallized mist of his breath swirling around his head. “How would I know that? I’m the one sleeping.”

She laughed lightly and curled her hand in the wolf’s fur of his cloak. He could hear a smile tinging her voice when she responded. “What do you dream about?”

He lied. “Home. Sjorkden.”

“Do you have a family, lieutenant?”

“I do,” Peeta said solemnly. “Or I did.” He wasn’t thinking of his blood. Older brothers with a taste for cruelty. A timid father who retreated into a mixing bowl whenever trouble brewed. A mother with a short temper and an even shorter supply of love for her youngest son. She had called him ‘runt’ before he worked up the courage to run away and enroll in the academy.

Whoever first said “blood is thicker than water” was a fool. Peeta had seen barrels worth of blood wash away in water. He had seen his home town swallowed up by mists from the deck of a ship. He had seen his mother weeping over another lost child running down her legs and then turn to beat her living, breathing sons the same day. Blood meant nothing.

No, he did not think of his blood. He was thinking instead of his brothers in arms, the men he’d known as boys, the sparring circles and the holiday feasts, the proud slaps on the back, the dirty inside jokes, and the secret drunken parties held when the masters went to bed. He felt a hollow ache deep in his chest when he remembered most of his friends were dead, lost in a never-ending crusade that had been handed down to them like a dusty, blood-soaked artifact of another time.

And then he thought of her and with no magic involved, his heartbeat quickened.

She was all he had left.

“I had a family too,” she whispered and Peeta heard the words she wouldn’t say out loud.

A raid.

“When?” he pressed cautiously, afraid of pushing her to open up to him again. It happened so rarely that she would let a scrap of her life from before The Bloody Rose loose. He knew she had lived in Ellsworth for a few years, the merchant town where the commander had found her, working off a steep indenture in a pleasure house. But she was a Heartrender, originally from the southeastern country of Krell, a land thick with forest and swamp. She was a girl of humid summers and wooden houses, not the chilled stone harbors of a trading port.

“I was eleven when they took my father, thirteen when my mother disappeared, and-” her voice trembled, though she tried to hide it. “They burned Primrose last year.”

The witch said they but all Peeta could hear was you. He wanted to console her but what could he say when he and his people were the cause of her suffering? Peeta had turned in plenty of young women to the council. What if one of them had been her sister? Guilt gripped his throat, his stomach, his lungs. He felt heavy with self-loathing.

Perhaps it wasn’t her that was the monster. Perhaps it was him.

Perhaps it had been him all along.

With words stuck in his throat, he walked with just the wind and the crunching of his own steps to break up the silence.

“It’s nice that you’ll have somewhere to go if we get out of this,” she said in an attempt to change the subject.

Peeta had flashed her a small smile, but his insides withered like flowers in a frost.

He didn’t really. Not anymore.

At least, not in Sjorkden.

The witch walked near the cliffside, peering down at the black sand beach every once in a while. Peeta knew she stepped lightly and was careful with her footing, but still, he didn’t like her so close to the edge. He pulled her away.

“Stop,” she grumbled, twisting her arm out of his grasp.

Peeta clenched his jaw but didn’t try touching her again.

She narrowed her eyes at his sour expression. “I’m being careful, I swear.”

“What are you looking for?” he demanded.

“A way down. I’m sick of this cliffside,” she said as she returned to the edge.

“We don’t have time for a stroll on the beach.”

She scowled. “The last time I checked, we have all the time in the world.”

“We need to stay on course or we’ll never get to Fjordhingă.”

“About that…” The witch pursed her lips, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. “I’m not going.”

“What?” he sputtered. When had she decided this?

“There’s nothing for me there. It’s just another merchant town and I’ve had my fill of those.”

Peeta scrubbed a hand over his face. His fingers grazed the thick stubble on his jaw. “We’re not going to be staying there.”

“Then where will we be going?”

His lips started forming the word Sjorkden, but that wasn’t right. His homeland was no place for her. So what was he going to do when they arrived in Fjordhingă? He couldn’t bring her back to Sjorkden and turn her in. She’d be imprisoned, tried, and then burned. That was no longer an option. But if he let her go…

He couldn’t bear the thought. Not being with her. If he watched her board a ship and stowaway to her homeland, a raid ravaged country she didn’t even seem to want to return to, he knew a piece of himself would be carried off with her. A piece he’d never get back. But what choice did he have?

A small part of him missed when she had just been ‘the witch’ and not something more. He missed when things were black and white, not muddled shades of gray. Nothing made sense now. Not the golden warmth that passed through him when she smiled. Not the sickening, vengeful bottoming out of his heart when she cried. He found himself hating the men that had touched her, used her body for their own lustful releases. He daydreamed of hunting each and every one of them down and cutting off their fingers, one by one. But why stop at the fingers? Why not make a brilliant bloodbath out of it? A final crusade.

Perhaps that’s what they would do.

But just as Peeta opened his mouth to answer, unsure of what exactly was going to come out, the rock gave and the witch plummeted down the cliffside.

The masters had taught Peeta not to give in to panic, to take danger in both hands and bend it to his will, until what he had wasn’t a dangerous situation, but a controlled one, preferably in his favor.

All those lessons went out the window as he watched her scrabbling to find purchase on the cliff face.

Instead of eerily calm, he felt the world tilting in and out of focus. A fiery rush of adrenaline alighted his nerves as if he were made of oil-soaked paper and someone had thrown a match at him.

He wrenched his pack off and dove, just barely managing to grab onto her wrists before she lost her grip on a loose root, but not before he cut the inside of his forearm on a jutting rock ledge. The rock sliced through fabric and flesh, the hot, tearing pain erupting up his arm as the weight of the witch and her pack pulled him down. His screams echoed out across the sea.

“Don’t let go,” she whimpered. Below her dangling body was a six-hundred-foot drop, more than enough to shatter her bones and dash her brains from her skull if she slipped. He thought she had been cut as well when he saw dark red seeping into her skirts, but as his vision blurred and blackened around the edges he realized it was his own blood running down her body. His hand and her wrist were slickened with it and soon she only clung to him by one arm. Peeta braced himself and slowly lifted her up the cliff, digging the tops of his feet into the ground to keep himself anchored.

She was shaking like a leaf, her heart beating so hard Peeta could feel it under his palms as he hauled her onto stable ground. When her legs cleared the edge, she crawled on hands and knees to vomit into a dead bush while Peeta rolled onto his back to cradle the throbbing, torn flesh of his arm against his chest. Perhaps it was only a minute or perhaps it had been many when the witch finally crawled to his side, her face swimming above him. She lifted shaking hands to his wound, her fingers slipping over muscle and blood as she began chanting lowly in Krellian.

There was a tingling warmth, an emerald green light, the feeling of flesh slowly knitting itself back together, fiber by fiber. He lifted his good hand to caress her cheek, wiping the tears away. He hated when she cried.

“Stay still,” she ordered tremulously. “Please, just stay still.” As the edges of his vision blackened and he was pulled down into unconsciousness, only one thought registered.

What a terrible hunter he must be to have fallen in love with his prey.

Before the shipwreck and the nights spent pressed against the witch, Peeta rarely had good dreams. He had nightmares or he had nothing, so when he dreamed of the sound of her footsteps at the door after a long day, the thrumming heat of her body in a moonlight bathed bed, or of the fluttering of two heartbeats underneath his palms, he thought perhaps he had died and this vision was his reward for one good act in a lifetime drenched in blood.

He had saved her. They were even.

He could die with that.

But all too soon the dream ended and he sank into a shallow realm between sleep and consciousness.

Animal skin walls. Ashwood beams. The fragrant smoke of a cooking fire. The press of warm lips to a cool forehead.

The passing of time blurred. The only constant he was aware of were hands. Gentle caresses to his brow, his cheeks, the pad of a thumb caught on his chapped bottom lip, knuckles against his jaw, a single fingertip running along the slope of his nose. She sang Krellian lullabies in husky tones, whispered prayers against his throat, traced cool runes into his skin with water, rubbed the warmth back into his numb feet.

Trӕvani ᶌala ką.

Stay with me.

“Always,” he mumbled in his mother tongue.

“You need a haircut,” she said accusingly as she lifted the knife above his head. Her silver eyes flashed dangerously, a warning, that if he didn’t cooperate, she’d make him.

The shipwreck had been nearly two months ago, his injury about a week, and in that time his hair had grown in waves well past his ears. He’d had close shaves when he was in training, a clean face too, but he liked the feel of shagginess on his neck and a thickening beard. Though apparently, the witch liked when his hair was more manageable.

“You need a bath too,” she grumbled as she swatted his hands away and carefully started trimming.

“You offering?” he quipped.

The witch snorted, undeterred from her task. “You wash my back, I wash yours. That’s how it works around here.”

Peeta wasn’t sure if that was a yes or a no.

They sat together by the fire. She was perched upon her knees, a ring of blond forming soundlessly on the hard-packed dirt. As she worked, Peeta traced a finger over the jagged, pink scar on his forearm.

The witch had saved his life. Again. If it wasn’t for her and that spell, Peeta would have bled out. The cut was deep, almost to the bone, and had severed many nerves and arteries. The muscle tissue would normally be beyond repair, but now, besides the scar which the Heartrender had sheepishly admitted she wasn’t skilled enough to erase, there was no trace of injury. No pain when he circled his wrist, no twinge when he flexed his fingers. Almost as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. He felt the shift almost as soon as he was conscious enough to sit up and drink on his own.

This was no longer a game of survival, a cease-fire between warring parties. They had come to cross some invisible threshold. The first truce had been borne through words alone, the second through her restraint, but this partnership was borne through Peeta’s actions, the risk he took in that dive, almost dying in her stead.

She wouldn’t forget that.

The witch came to kneel in front of him and set the knife down, brushing the remaining strands of hair from his shoulders. Peeta watched her thoughtfully. Her lashes were as dark as dried ink on parchment paper and her face looked fuller than it had on the ship, her cheeks glowing like polished bronze medallions in the firelight. Peeta admired her lips the most. Pink, full, and slightly parted. Plump as a dew crusted rose in spring. Her tongue danced behind her teeth when she opened her mouth to speak.

“You should kiss me.”

Peeta’s mind went blank. “What?”

“Or don’t. It’s up to you.” She had shrugged then, a small smile curling her lips as if she knew a secret he didn’t. “I’m a very good kisser though.”

Peeta had never kissed a woman before, and she had worked in a pleasure house. Surely she was used to men with more experience than him. Though that had been a job to her, a means to get by, an indenture she had been forced to agree to.

This was something entirely different.

His cheeks flushed as his body responded, his mind going fuzzy with desire. He wasn’t just thinking of kissing when he said: “I don’t know how.”

“I’m a good teacher. Besides, I like that you’ve never known another woman. That means I have no competition,” she said lowly as she leaned into him.

“You wouldn’t have competition even if I had,” he breathed, and then she closed the scrap of space between their bodies.

If he was back in Sjorkden, if he had completed his blood cull and turned in fifty witches, if he had been granted his talisman, a polished stone artifact that would symbolize his ascent from soldier to honored veteran, he would be spending the winter in fruition. He would have chosen a noblewoman to court, dined with her family, brought her gifts of ice wine and shimmery sapphire cloth, and only after their intertwined hands had been bound by silken Siyana ribbons, only after her golden bridal plaits were undone and left to fall loosely across her shrouded shoulders, only after they burned a winter rose and let the fragrant smoke settle upon their skin, would he be permitted to kiss her for the first time, under the eyes of god and before the eyes of her father. As was proper.

This was not that kiss.

It was better.

The witch’s lips were soft and tasted of salt, though something deeper lay beneath the remains of their last meal. Drops of amber honey, the bittersweet juice of frukkala berries, the earthy notes of pine bark.

Her mouth guided his as she twined her arms around his neck. Slowly at first, and then something snapped and she pressed her tongue into his mouth with a desperation bordering on hunger.

Peeta trembled where he held her, running his fingers down the soft fabrics of her dress, circling the dip of her hips and then climbing up the even bumps of her rib cage. He didn’t want to break the kiss but he was suddenly overcome with the urge to brush his lips against the hollow of her collarbone. She sighed in appreciation when he did just that.

Her skin was flawless, smooth, pliable. Heat radiated from her like coals, the silky steadiness licking at his flesh as he undid the ties of her dress. The fabric fell away and Peeta’s eyes slowly raked over her nakedness. She was small but she was stunning, her body lean and sinewy like a willow nymph from a fairytale. Her breasts were pert and Peeta watched firelight dance over her pebbling nipples. The sight sent heat straight to his groin until the building pressure was almost painful.

“Your turn,” she said as she lifted his tunic over his head, lightly tracing silvery white scars across his collarbones, chasing them down his chest, his navel, until she reached the line of dark blond hair that disappeared past his trousers. Her fingers stilled, her gaze flickered up to his, and Peeta took the opportunity to wind his hand into her hair and pull her down for another kiss.

He remembered the press of her naked body the first night they’d slept against one another. His desire then had been shameful, sprung up from some twisted part of him he had tried to hide behind hatred and mistrust. But this. This desire roared unchecked through his body, burning infinitely hotter now that he knew she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her.

“Maybe we should move away from the fire,” Peeta suggested breathlessly in between kisses.

“No,” she murmured huskily. “I’m going to take you right here.” She pushed him down onto his back into their nest of furs and lifted her legs to straddle him, grinning when she felt the press of his hardened erection under her hips. She pinned his wrists up by his ears as she lay her body on top of his, rubbing her core against him in slow, even circles. His cock throbbed, straining to get out from the confines of his pants.

“You’re such a tease,” he groaned.

“It’s more fun that way,” she whispered cheekily, and then she released his wrists and clasped his face between her palms, kissing him ever so slowly, worrying his bottom lip between her teeth. The sensation made him dizzy.

“Have you ever felt this good before?” she asked in a sigh.

“Only in dreams,” he responded as he chased her lips and pressed his palms into the small of her back.

She pulled away, an intense curiosity alighting her eyes. “What do you really dream about?”

“You,” he whispered. “And me.”

Her lips curled into a sultry grin as she softened and leaned down to press her mouth to the hollow below his ear. He turned his head to give her more room. “And what do we do together in these dreams?” she purred as she sucked on his neck.

“Everything.”

She laughed against his skin. “You’re being cheesy.”

“It’s the truth,” he said defensively, but the smile threatening to crack his face open seeped into his voice and made him sound as if he were joking.

She moved away again and Peeta was about to object, pull her back, crash those beautiful lips against his own once more, but there was no need as she ran a gentle hand down the line of his abdomen and then slowly, inch by inch, pulled his pants down his thighs. He hissed when his cock sprang free and bounced onto his stomach. She was so close he could feel the wet heat of her breath fanning over his skin.

The witch raised a brow, admiring his size. Peeta knew from spending nearly a decade at the academy and then a number of years on witching vessels that he was… well endowed. You don’t spend that much time among men without seeing something, and to compare one’s self to others was human nature.

He pulsed in her soft hand as she pulled his foreskin down, revealing the glistening pink head. She ran a gentle thumb along the ridge. Then she leaned down and slowly took him into her mouth.

Peeta had never felt so vulnerable.

It was like she commanded full control of him. She simply had to twirl her tongue around the head and he would groan and buck his hips without even meaning to. She worked the base with her hands and hollowed out her cheeks, flicking the ridge with her tongue, caressing the slit, tasting him as no woman had before.

Peeta moaned loudly and clenched his abdomen. His thighs trembled. Suddenly, she stalled, squeezed the base in her hands, and then lewdly popped his length out from between her lips.

“Eager aren’t we?” she purred.

Another moan escaped him as she began pumping, using her saliva as a lubricant. The delicious feeling of her hands rucking up his skin was almost enough to make him unravel. The wet sounds of her attentions filled the lodge as his nerves kindled, blazing like a wick burning from both ends.

“Slow down,” he begged, embarrassed by how ragged and breathy his voice had become. He felt weakened from being wrapped in her hands but he realized he didn’t mind. It was a good weakness, the kind that left you warm and a little watery in the knees. The tight pleasure coiling in his body was mounting past anything he had ever reached on his own. It was agony when he stalled her hands and his pleasure plummeted.

“I don’t want to come yet,” he panted, lifting his head to look at her. She still grasped him in her hands. His rounded tip was blush red where her tongue had been. It was perhaps the most deliciously erotic sight he had ever witnessed.

She drew her eyebrows together, revealing that cute little brow crease.

“I want to make you feel good too,” he said, brushing the hair off her shoulder.

“What do you have in mind?” she challenged before running the tip of her tongue up along a bulging vein of his shaft. It was wholly distracting.

“You… you’re going to have to stop that first.” He lifted his eyes upwards.

“Are you praying?”

“Maybe.”

She picked up on his nervousness, folding her tongue back into her mouth. “Look, if you’re not ready, you’re not ready,” she said, but that wasn’t it at all. He was ready, he was just hesitant. He didn’t know the workings of a woman’s body. He knew only his own, the strength he possessed and the burdens he could bear, the battles he could wage and the soaring pleasures he could summon using his own two hands. He knew her, he just didn’t know how she was put together, and therefore, he didn’t know how to make her fall apart. But that would all change if he could just swallow his insecurities.

“Come here,” he beckoned, wetting his lips nervously.

He had grown up surrounded by boys of all ages, and though they were never permitted to indulge in the union of flesh, both because there were no girls at the academy and because it was forbidden for witch hunters to do so, he had still heard raunchy tales of all the things men and women could do in bed together.

And he had one particular act in mind.

She softly tapped the head of his cock against her lips as if deep in thought. Each brush sent sparks traveling down his shaft. “That’s a tad ambitious for your first time,” she murmured, but Peeta could tell she was happily surprised at his offer. He had fingers and lips and tongue. Peeta was unpracticed, but he knew with her guidance he could satisfy her.

“You said you were a good teacher,” he reminded her, the timbre of his voice taking on a gravelly deepness. “Teach me how to please you.”

She set him down and then slowly, with back arched and eyes hooded, climbed over his body. Her long black hair fell from her shoulders like a spill of water.

“Higher,” he instructed, allowing the pads of his fingertips to stroke the springy flesh of her breasts and then the planes of her bare stomach as she continued climbing. She settled her thighs on either side of his head allowing Peeta a good view. He looped his arms under her legs to anchor her in place and splayed his hands over her lower back. Underneath a thick tuft of hair was her core, pink, swollen, and blooming like a flower in spring. Peeta’s cock jumped at the sight.

“If you want to please me you’re going to have to do more than stare at me, lieutenant,” she laughed.

Peeta steeled himself and swept a finger along her folds. It was a shallow caress, a tentative touch, but his fingertips came away glistening with her essence.

He exhaled slowly, watching as the witch’s slit leaked her arousal. There was a heavy moment, the air pregnant with the crackle of potential, until eventually, Peeta gathered the courage to flatten his tongue and taste her.

She tasted sweet. Musky.

She tasted human.

Her body tensed, responding to his touch. “Right here,” she breathed as she pressed a set of fingers to a small bud at the apex of her entrance. He lifted a thumb to the spot, thankful when she guided him in slow circles. With her instruction, he used his tongue to gently caress her lips and his thumb to circle her clit, humming appreciatively whenever he felt her flutter.

“Your beard tickles,” she laughed when she determined he had gotten the hang of it. She leaned back to rest her hands on the corded muscles of his thighs, thrusting her chest up to the ceiling and bucking her hips slowly along with his rhythm. He was moving more on instinct than anything else when he dipped his tongue inside of her.

It took time and he knew he was being clumsy, but the witch wouldn’t let him stop. His tongue was heavy and jaw sore when she replaced his fingers with her own, increasing the pressure and riding his mouth to release.

Her spine snapped, her eyes slid closed, curses fell from her lips, and something primal within Peeta awakened. He found himself desperately pulling her closer, lapping at her entrance, milking her release, and swallowing her arousal.

When it was over her core pulsed faintly and she opened her eyes to smile languidly down at him. Peeta’s tongue slowed. “You have something…” She broke into giggles and then brushed at his lips with her fingers, managing to smear even more of herself on him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he smiled, lips tingling. He liked this view. Her dewy skin seemed to glow like the very embers smoldering not three feet away.

“Before we do this,” she said, unhooking her legs from around his head and coming to once again grasp him firmly in her hands, “I need you to promise you won’t finish inside of me.”

His breath caught as he imagined it.

Being inside of her.

“I won’t.”

“Promise me,” she pressed, pumping him idly.

It was an absurd situation. Surely a man would promise anything to a vixen grasping his very manhood in her hands. But to Peeta, it was more than that. He had her trust and here was a chance to prove he deserved it.

“I promise.”

With their deal struck, the witch mounted him. Peeta admired her figure in the gilded firelight once more, brushing his fingers against her peaked nipples and kneading the comely flesh as he watched the shadows dance and pool in the dip of her navel. This was a sight he would never be sick of.

She positioned the head of his shaft at her entrance and slid the tip along her slit to gather slickness, earning a few strangled sounds from Peeta. Her folds were soaked after her orgasm and he slid his hands down her body, gripping the backs of her knees in anticipation.

“I want you to watch my face as I take you in,” she whispered. “Every last inch.”

There was a tight, building pressure that suddenly broke into a slide. He slid past her folds, embedded within her. The feeling of the witch’s hot, silky heat molding around him, squeezing his shaft and cradling the head, was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Her core fluttered. So did her eyelids.

“Watch me, lieutenant,” she reminded him as she raised her hips to slam down on him. The wet slap of skin on skin rang through the air.

“Peeta,” he grunted.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Peeta.”

“Peeta.” She sighed his name like a prayer, letting the vowels roll off her tongue as if she were tasting them, and Peeta thought he had never heard it spoken so sweetly. “Nice to meet you, Peeta.”

His laugh melted into a groan as she clenched around him. He looked down between her legs at where their bodies overlapped. He was embedded to the hilt. She was taking it all.

Her breasts bounced with her body, and as she pressed down on him, Peeta raised his hips to meet her.

“Harder,” she begged.

Peeta slid his hands up her thighs, squeezing the flesh through his fingers like clay and rolling his hips sharply upwards. The head of his cock bumped her cervix. “Like that?”

The witch gasped, her body clenching with his thrust, and let out a little giggle. “Yes,” she moaned, allowing Peeta to take control of their rhythm. She leaned down to kiss him as he palmed her ass, spreading her open so he could set a faster tempo.

The small lodge filled with the lewd sounds of slapping skin and heavy grunts. It was ecstasy, being inside of her, and with each thrust Peeta felt warmer. His skin burned against hers.

Peeta wanted it to last longer, but as his thrusts stuttered and he felt that familiar tingle in his balls, he knew he couldn’t hold on. The witch started grinding on top of him, tuned into his body’s tells; the increasing cadence of his breath, the tremors in his hands, the intensity of his thrusts. It was time to keep his promise.

With a toe-curling shudder and a string of unintelligible curses in his mother tongue, Peeta pulled out and finished onto his own stomach, his hot seed quickly cooling on his skin. The witch panted above him, one hand splayed over his chest, another by his head, supporting her weight. Her skin shone with sweat and the loose hairs on her nape were damp.

“Let me clean you up,” the witch purred and Peeta watched in disbelief as she unhooked her legs from around him and shifted down. Her pink tongue darted out to lick the spend off his skin, and then she slowly traced up the ridges of his cock to capture the last pearlescent dribbles off the hypersensitive head, licking that clean too as if she were finishing something delicious. She stuck out her tongue to show him.

She had swallowed it all.

“You are something else,” he laughed giddily. He had never felt so satisfied and tired at the same time. He laid his head back on the pelts as the witch gently toyed with him softening in her hand. Her palm glided slowly, slickened by her arousal.

“I knew you were a virgin but I didn’t know you were a virgin,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Peeta asked, suddenly embarrassed. Had he done something wrong?

“You never got a blow job when you were younger? Not even a handy?”

He wasn’t sure how she could possibly have known that, but perhaps he had been too loud. Was that possible? His face flushed with heat. “No. I… I was never really around girls. Not until now at least.”

She smiled softly, carefully placed him down, and then crawled up his body to rest her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair, tugging gently on her scalp. The strands were slightly knotted, but after Peeta had run his fingers through the tresses a few times, they felt as soft as silk. A spill of ebony satin. Any fabric that wasn’t the rough spun texture of his tunics.

“That was rather good for your first time,” she said. “I thought you’d be more… instantaneous.”

He chuckled. “I’m a soldier, not a priest.”

She smiled into his chest hair. “So you’ve satiated your urges all on your own?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am. I thought all Sjorkden witch hunters were pious and pleasure starved.”

“Perhaps not pleasure starved but pleasure...hungry. It’s not as fulfilling when you’re alone.”

There was a pause as they listened to the soft crackling of the fire, felt it’s comforting heat on their skin, and watched it’s muted light dance across the walls.

“Is it bad that I’m happy? That I’m your first, I mean,” she mumbled softly. “I know we don’t owe each other anything, but I’ve wanted this. At least once.”

“Only once?” he asked, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

He could never go back. Not to his country. Not to his old ways. Not to a life without her. Did she think after they made it back to civilization that he would abandon her? After everything they had been through? After everything she had made him feel? And what was this about him not owing her? He didn’t even know her name but he owed her everything.

Absolutely everything.

She lifted her head off his chest and met his eyes. She was searching for something in his expression and the raw intensity of her gaze made him gulp.

“I don’t want this to have just been once,” he whispered, coming to cup her cheek in his palm and running a calloused thumb over the delicate skin under her eye.

“Any sane woman of my talent would be afraid of you, valkrӕlla,” she said lowly, her lips parting delicately with her words. She raised her hand to hold his palm against her cheek. “Instead, I find myself unable to let you go.”

A fierce rush of affection crashed through Peeta’s body. He understood because he felt the same way.

She was his.

He was hers.

Anything else was unthinkable.

He traced his fingers down the dip of her spine, catching small droplets of sweat. “You must know you have nothing to fear from me,” he insisted, pleading with his eyes, trying to make her understand that he felt it too. That he had been wrong before. That perhaps he didn’t deserve her forgiveness for the way he had let himself despise her, for the way he had treated her. Perhaps he didn’t deserve her at all. But maybe…

Maybe she would still have him.

“I’m sorry I was so cruel to you, valjakka.”

Beloved.

Her breath hitched. “I know,” she whispered, and then she drew closer, tipping her mouth to his.

He tasted himself on her tongue.

Peeta gathered her up and pressed her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her slender body atop his chest. The other kisses had been lustful, desperate in the same way a flame sucks the oxygen from a room. But this one kindled hope. Life.

It was as if she was air, and he, a drowning man.

When they had exhausted themselves their lips broke apart and they lay on top of the furs, lapsing into a comfortable silence as Peeta grabbed one to cover their naked bodies. The fire was nearby but the bitter air from outside still managed to creep through the walls, slowly cooling their sweat-slicked skin.

“Peeta,” she breathed, a small sound of happiness escaping her lips. “Peeta, Peeta, Peeta.”

“Don’t wear it out,” he joked, but the sound of his name rolling off her tongue and languishing past her lips was like a shot of pure energy. He was keenly aware of how it affected his body, reawakening his lust as he shifted uncomfortably on the floor beneath her.

“My name is Katniss,” she offered shyly.

Katniss.

He let the name caress the inside of his skull. The syllables fell from his lips and tangled in her hair. It suited her, hard and soft at the same time. Just like the way she made love.

He told her so and she laughed.

Epilogue

Peeta’s old hatreds finally died as he looked into her eyes and saw humanity reflected back at him. He thought of her as precious and wondered how he had never seen it before. She was a blizzard, an earthquake, a monsoon, all at once. What a beautiful thing it would be to succumb to her power.

She may have looked all hard planes and edges, but when she made love, she didn’t act like it. Her body was soft, flexible, willing to bend to any shape Peeta pushed her into. In the accompanying weeks, they trekked further north and found shelter not only within lodges but within each other. She had particular tastes and wasn’t afraid to tell him so, and she always claimed ultimate control of what was done to her.

She was quivering beneath him, legs spread, clawing at his body for dear life when he uttered the ultimate promise against her skin:

When they arrived in Fjordhingă, he would find honest work as a laborer to pay for their passage onto a ship. They’d sail south past the Narubi Canal, away from the waters of the Undersea and to Xenen or Prӕna Gaul or Caɦn, someplace hot and out of Sjorkden’s reach. They’d make a living off the land and build a house with their own two hands, with walls of salt-aged wood and pink marbled stone, not animal skin and ash. They’d thatch the roof with golden grasses, paint the wooden slats orange or yellow, something bright, and fill the deep window boxes with heavily scented wisteria blossoms and honeysuckle. The garden would be overridden with dragon fruit and mangoes and persimmons which they’d slice and eat for breakfast. They’d dry the salt from seawater and keep a pen full of pigs. Wear the light cotton clothes best suited for heat and humidity and tear them off each other to make love on the beach. Every night, they’d watch the sky catch fire, a brilliant dying world of smoldering citrine and blood blush clouds. They’d carve out a new life away from the titles of ‘witch’ and ‘witch hunter’. A fresh start without the black shadow of Sjorkden or the bleak memories of Krell to hang over the domestic and companionable goings-on of each day.

And when she allowed it, any child they created together, any seed of his that sprung from the wet earth of her womb and wailed itself into existence, he promised, just like her, would wield dominion over his heart for as long as he lived, and perhaps even after that.

THE END

#The Heartrender #everlark fanfiction #everlark fanfic #everlark smut #witch!Katniss #witch-hunter!Peeta #last chapter

39 notes · View notes

nat-roman0ff · 4 years

Text

all i want for christmas is us

an entry for @saintlymendes secret santa

for: nicole (@tell-me-when-ur-ready)

words: 2,092 warnings: some swearing, angst, and cavity inducing fluff (it is christmas after all)

Shawn looks down again at his phone, scrolling through the photos. Happy. Warm. Holiday season. Ice skating at his favorite park, kissing under the mistletoe, and posing in the matching pajamas his mum had bought for the entire family. A smile creeps up on his face and then disappears just when he starts to feel its warmth.

Last Christmas.

Last Christmas the photos were taken. Last Christmas they were happy. Last Christmas she had said yes to marrying him.

Now the photos just served as painful reminders of his current reality. Sitting alone in his half empty condo. He couldn’t bare to replace the things she took, just in case she decided to come back.

Odds and ends mostly; an end table she purchased at an antique store and lugged eight blocks back home on a hot August weekend, an ottoman where the two would sit on the floor across from each other and play cards all night over a bottle of her favorite red wine, an entirely empty wall that used to make up her vinyl collection. The half empty condo matched his half empty heart.

Shawn locks and drops his phone to his chest with a thud, opting for the sting of its weight on his sternum over the stinging of his broken heartstrings. He still hadn’t cleaned up the red wine stain from the carpet when she spilled it last Christmas. Getting rid of that was the last bit of her still around and, well, he needed to still hold onto something.

Karen’s rung three times at this point. She knew it was going to be a hard day for him, insisted he spend the night Christmas Eve but Shawn declined and instead drank himself stupid until three in the morning and passed out on the living room floor next to her red wine stain.

He thought about calling her, wishing her a Happy Christmas, or anything just to hear her voice. It hadn’t been a messy breakup, at least at first. She said it was too much too soon and the constant pressure from the outside world was starting to seep through their happy little bubble.

Time. It was always time that she needed. But after she returned the ring, the weeks faded into months and when he saw that first picture come up on his timeline he knew that their time had run out.

It was innocent enough; someone he knew through mutual friends but could never remember his name. Smiling, with her lips pressed against his cheek.

She was with someone else.

He blacked out that night, somewhere in the middle of a world tour in a foreign city and woke up the next morning by Brian dumping a glass of water on his head. He cried for a day and a half straight and then again when he had to tell his mum.

Time.

Everyone said it was all he’d need to get over her; the love of his life. He’d known it from a very young age, before the fame, before they’d ever exchanged a wayward glance at each other. He knew she was going to be the one for him, for the rest of his life.

Until she wasn’t.

Write about it. Was his first thought. Write until your fingers bleed and there’s nothing left in your head. Write out every memory, every feeling, every ounce of pain that courses through your God forsaken veins and then you’ll be rid of her. But Shawn couldn’t write. He couldn’t put down a single fucking word in the six months since she left. He just couldn’t describe it; there was no way to put into words how he was feeling, nothing that did it justice, nothing that captured the pathetic sadness that lingered in his bones about her.

It’s half past two when Karen finally got ahold of him. He’d lost track looking at photos, letting his memories replay on the walls of his condo over and over again. He watches the two of them dance in the kitchen at midnight and make love on the living room floor in the morning, wrapped up in each other’s arms. If he was miserable at home on Christmas, he was going to be even worse at his parent’s house.

Everything was the same as it was last year when Shawn finally walks through the front door of his parent’s home, right down to the smells. Except she’s not there. There’s a small box in the spot where the ring box sat last year on the tree and Shawn tries to blink away the onset of tears that threaten to come through. He wonders which cousin is getting engaged this year.

Asshole stole my idea.

“Everything alright, darling?” Karen asks in only that mum way. She knows it’s not. It hasn’t been for a while.

Shawn nods his head, “yeah, fine. Just...you know. I knew today would be hard.”

Karen smiles, “I know, honey. But they day’s not over yet,” she says with a wink.

Something in Shawn’s heart flutters.

“C’mon,” she starts, “let’s go open presents.”

An hour and two bags full of wrapping paper later the Mendes’ family is nearly finished unwrapping gifts. Shawn’s eyes glance over to the box sitting snugly on the tree branch. No one has reached for it yet, and as things are winding down he can’t help but stare at it, wanting to know the contents. It’s slightly larger than a ring box, but not enough to put anything substantial in it.

“There’s one more for you,” Manny points to the tree.

Shawn looks at the box and back to his father and he nods. Standing, he goes to the tree and opens the box with shaky hands. There’s a folded up piece of paper inside and he immediately recognizes her handwriting and that stupid gold pen he always hated. It smeared the edges of her letters, he never thought it would end up being something he missed. Shawn can feel the heat of his family watching him as he reads;

Shawn,

It’s been too long since we last spoke and I suppose I owe you a lot. See, time is a funny thing. It feels the most fleeting when you have none of it left and the most crippling when you’re looking down the barrel of forever. I needed time on my own, I needed time with other people. I needed to know that what we had was what my forever was meant to look like and to do that I needed to find out a little more about myself. So, as it turns out I actually DO like cucumbers, riding motorcycles, and being alone. But I still hate tomatoes, unicorns (don’t ask) and being away from you. I’m sorry for the pain that I’ve caused you. I know there’s never going to be a way I can take that away or make it up to you, but I want you to know just how sorry I am.

Meet me tonight at 6 where we had our first date (yes, the first-first one, not the second-first one, you’ll know what I’m talking about).

Love, Nicole

His ears are ringing when he looks up - eyes immediately checking the clock on the wall behind him: 5:55.

“Fuck - I gotta go!”

Shawn runs to grab his shoes and jacket. It’s faster if he runs, he thinks. It’s not far and his car is packed in with his relatives in the driveway and it would take ten minutes just for everyone to move out of the way. He sets off as the snow starts to pick up, slipping and sliding against the sidewalk pavement, breath coming out in foggy puffs.

He runs to the park by the high school. It’s not far, and he thinks he can make it in time. His cheeks are frozen, and snowflakes keep getting stuck in his lashes but Shawn just runs to her. When he rounds the corner to cross he sees her there, sitting on that same old dingy swing set that has somehow (despite looked rotted for at least the last twenty years) has never broken. She’s bundled up in her winter coat, looking down at her boots absentmindedly drawing pictures in the snow with the tip of her shoe.

The park had been their halfway point when they were kids; perfectly in the middle of each house when they didn’t want to worry about being around parents. It had been here that they had their first date in sixth grade; a picnic of PB&J’s that ended in an unforecasted rainstorm. She didn’t mind, and they splashed and danced in the puddles and went home a dirty sopping mess and he was sure that was the exact moment he fell in love with her. Even though he wasn’t sure what that meant yet. As all things do when you’re twelve, the relationship ended just as quick as it started and it wasn’t until six years later that things actually became serious.

But that’s another story for another day.

He’s not sure what to say when he approaches her. His chest is frozen from heaving in the frigid air and she just looks up from the swing and stares. He’s not sure it was possible for her to get more beautiful, but she somehow managed to. Her cheeks were pinked like his, her hair sprinkled with tiny snowflakes.

“I know how much we both love grand romantic gestures,” she laughs.

Fuck, he never thought he’d hear that laugh again and it literally warms his chest to.

“Nicole I -”

“Shawn I’m sorry,” she starts, “I have no way to ever make up what I did to you. I just...I got really fucking scared. You’re the only person I’ve ever been with and that terrified me. I didn’t know what it was like to be young and single or do something by myself. So I had to be alone -”

“What about that guy? The one you posted a picture with?” Shawn says.

Nicole slaps her forehead with her palm, “Shawn, Joe is my friend.”

He sucks in a breath of air, “oh.”

“There was never anyone else,” she pats the empty swing next to her, “there’s never going to be anyone else.”

Shawn sits beside her, it feels good to be this close again; to see all the little things about her up close that made her, her. All the little things he failed to appreciate before she had gone.

“So what does this mean now?” He asks.

Nicole reaches for his frozen hand and holds it in her gloved one, “I hope it means you still have that ring -”

Before she can finish Shawn pulls the chain of her swing towards him to bring her closer, and kisses her. Her lips are cold and chapped but so are his and there’s a brilliant warmth of familiarity that his bones recognize and he melts into her, wrapping an arm around her middle and holding on like his life depends on it.

(It does)

“So how did you even pull this off? Shawn asks when he pulls away.

Nicole smiles, “Karen helped me.”

He snorts, “I knew it.”

The park is so silent Shawn swears he can hear the snowflakes hit the ground, trapped in their own personal snow globe. They sit quiet for a moment, and Shawn is still trying to process what just happened. He can feel her still lingering on his lips; the same sickly sweet lip gloss she always wore.

“Do you want to go home?” He asks, looking at her through snow flake lined lashes.

Nicole nods, “I’d really love that.”

Shawn threads his fingers through hers and they walk hand in hand back to the Mendes household. He feels the gold circular piece of metal against his chest. He’s worn it there for so long he’s forgotten he has it.

He stops them in the middle of the sidewalk and bends down onto one knee onto the snow, reaching under his shirt and jacket to snap the engagement ring off the chain he wore around his neck.

“Will you marry me...again?”

Nicole nods frantically, “yes! Now get up before your jeans get wet.”

Shawn stands and pulls her into a kiss, threading his fingers through her hair until the both of them are out of breath.

“Hey Shawn,” she starts, lips still ghosting against his, “Merry Christmas.”

He smiles so hard it hurts his cheeks, “Merry Christmas, my love.”

#saintlymendessecretsanta #shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fluff

256 notes · View notes

unholyhelbig · 4 years

Text

The Vampires Familiar

Read Both Posted Chapters on AO3

Title: The Vampires Familiar

Ship: Lizzie Saltzman/Hope Mikaelson

Hope Mikaelson took three even gulps of the shop's air and tasted magic. Old magic that burned the back of her throat and nipped at her lungs until she felt like they were on fire. The odd odor of rosemary and chamomile clung to her clothes. The herbs were stacked in even and dusty jars against the far-right shelves like candles in a store. They had no lids, and separately everything was harmless. But she feared what could be created when combined.

She listened as the bell chimed with her entrance to the small business at the edge of the French Quarter. It was narrow and long instead of large and wide, posters for an upcoming circus littered the walls and a few sheets of paper advertising summer babysitting had the bottoms crudely ripped off, number smeared in black ink.

When she was younger, Hope used to enjoy taking trips to magic shops with her Aunt Freya, the jazz scene in New Orleans had just sparked a flame and different melodies, melancholy and otherwise, flowed through the city like air. They would find herbs and boil them up and fix things that had been broken for a long time.

That strength was felt the moment she walked through the door of Conrad Drew’s, Jade at her heels dutifully. There was soft gold light and the building shielded them from the sounds of the city, the bustle of parties, and iron wheels of cars.

Drew was an old man now, still holding himself correct behind the glass-paned counter with his fingers leaving little smudges. His hair was graying and his body fell rigid with fear when he glanced up, smile fading. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.” Was all he said.

“Don’t worry, we won’t stay long,” Hope responded, walking across the wood floor until she reached the desk. “I just have a few questions.”

“Take them somewhere else, plenty of magic shops in town.”

Conrad Drew was a resolute man, once young and vibrant and strong in his words. He had held the shop under his thumb for the better part of a decade, before that, it was his fathers, and his before that. Hope met him when he was twenty, simple, and able to down liquor as if it were pure water. He had aged, and so had she.

“Oh come on, I thought we were friends.” Hope cooed, letting the glass cool her fingertips. The heat left small crescents close to the service. They dissolved as quickly as they appeared. “Besides, it isn’t up for much discussion.”

He clenched his teeth and thinned his expression into a tight one. His leathery skin was glossy under the low light of the magic shop and his lungs growled like a lion pacing it’s iron cage, shoes kicking around sour hay.

Jade picked up the nearest book, dust pulling from the pages. “Don’t touch that. What do you want?”

Though the words were directed towards the curious vampire, he never moved his ghostly stare from Hope. Her fingers twitched and he noticed entirely all too quickly. Hope Mikaelson had a temper like stained glass, just like her father. Intricate and beautiful but shatter prone.

“There’s been an unusual spike in magic lately. It’s buzzing around us even as we speak, Mr. Drew, I can feel it.” She was soft with her words but still moved her fingertips against her bare arms until they left little white lines from the pressure. “You can too.”

“It’s a magical city, girl. Of course, you can feel it.”

“This is different. This is darker- an uprising of sorts. And I want to trust that I’m not foolish enough for believing in the loyalty of your witches.” Hope leaned forward and the scent of old magic was replaced with cheap cologne and sweat, primal fear that Conrad Drew didn’t show well. “Am I foolish?”

The French Quarter witches had been rooted in New Orleans for centuries before they branched out into different covens. Hope had an unmovable fist around the throat of each of them- and that stemmed from the control of the company Conrad liked to keep. The ninth ward kept to themselves, kept their magic in check.

“If there’s strange magic it’s not from us. We’re not naive enough to practice right where your castle stands.”

Hope couldn’t’ tell if that eased her worry at all, or the strange electric feeling that danced across her skin in a dangerous tango. But she believed him, even in his annoyance and bubbling anger at her for crossing the boundaries they had drawn a long time ago.

He let out a sigh and pulled a yellowed jar from the shelf behind him, Hope couldn’t read the label, mottled with age. “You should try the Garden District.”

“The Garden District?” Jade had long ago abandoned her book, “Those hippie freaks don’t have it in them. Don’t they worship their regent like a God?”

“They’re unconventional, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can discount them.” He said.

Jade shrugged her shoulders dejectedly and wandered over to the far wall. She squinted at the contents in the mason jars, careful to shove her fingers in her pockets like she was in an art museum, gazing at pictures expertly painted, gold plaques carved with the words DON’T TOUCH.

Hope had no such worry about the witches that dressed in white to get closer to the pure source of magic. They had been holed up in a large house on the west side of town since she herself was a child; her father let them be, let them simmer, and practice what they wanted with the respect and patience of a noble man. So she had done the same.

“Was that all, Miss Mikaelson?”

It had been. The early evening was bleeding into a desolate night filled with the sound of crickets and the wet summer air that made her want to peel her own skin off. An expertly crafted wooden sign indicated that the magic shop was closing its own doors and Hope was never one to linger after hours when a place lacked good liquor.

The door with the little bell and the burgundy paint flung open with enough force to crack the double-plated glass that protected it. Jade drew in a sharp breath and Hope felt the defensive bit of energy strike against her fingertips akin to a match.

A girl crashed to her knees and winced as they stung tearing against the aged wood. She was drenched in the pungent smell of sweat mixed with swamp water and mud, it left an even ring against the midsection of a pure white dress, something that had once been spotless but was now torn with the scent of blood and moss.

Hope exhaled because she decided that it was better than the opposite, perfectly content with the heir of magic instead of muck. This girl was captivating and a near stranger. Her blonde hair was stained similarly with mud and tears streaked down her cheeks. Eyes so pale they were almost gray. Mud darkened behind her nails and blood soaked close to her collar, not from a bite, but a tear, a simple slice in her skin that looked all too intentional.

Conrad moved across the shop wordlessly and flipped the large iron lock against the door “What in God’s name-“

“I need help,” She girl gulped out, her voice was broken, pained from screaming. “There are people after me and I didn’t know where else to go.”

“A hospital?” Jade suggested, blinking at the scene.

“No, no I couldn’t. That can’t help me not against them.”

Hope hesitated “Who did this to you?”

The girl’s breath slowed, no longer a jagged pant but something loose and unstable. She hugged herself close, still sitting against the floor and dripping mud that would be nearly impossible to scrub away. “I took something important from a group of witches. It was for the greater good, I swear it, but they don’t’ see it like that. They have a tracking spell on me and I figured— fuck if anyone was strong enough to counter it with a cloaking spell it would be”

“Me,” Conrad finished the sentence. “Whatever it is, I’ll need more power than I have. It was half-witted to show up here. One man can’t take down an entire coven.”

“What about yours?” She searched desperately.

“They’re indisposed. You can’t hide here, girl. I’m sorry, it’s not my fight.”

Hope rolled her eyes, staring the sad excuse for a regent down. He liked to protect his people, and the tribrid could admit to her own motives as well. But watching the girl, so small and unsure of herself, it pulled at her. Pulled at her the same way that it did with Jade in the 1800s and countless others that shared her disposition. She blamed her mother for her soft side.

“Have some pity, Drew. Where would the world be if we didn’t take mercy on anyone?”

“A hell of a lot safer, your daddy knew that.”

She ignored the comment and the mention of her father. Flames licked at her skin, and an acid taste pressed against the back of her throat but she swallowed it down, kneeling in front of the scared witch, so pulled into herself that she barely noticed another presence until now. Her beaten stare flashed in recognition, and fear, and something else entirely that Hope couldn’t read.

She whispered, soft “Now, I think you and I can make a deal.”

“I’ve heard stories about you.” The stranger swallowed the dirty taste on her tongue “I think I’d rather risk my luck in the quarter. I don’t need your protection.”

Hope gave a wolfish grin, fighting back a bitter laugh. Even now, even crouched low coated in every kind of grime that the Louisiana swamps had to offer, she refused her. It made an odd bout of pride swell in Hope’s chest because the stories had lived on and so had her presence in this town seeping with the history of her family.

“You took something from a bloodletting frenzy of homicidal witches. Like hell, you need my protection.”

The girl gulped in the same air that Hope had when she first entered the small shop. She stared at her supposed savior, at Conrad Drew, and a stranger leaning close enough to the shelves to clear them entirely. She felt the hot floor against her knees and tasted the waters of the swamp she had waded through, and though it was slight, she could pick up on the magic of a woman entirely too patient to compete with the fairytales.

She conceded “What kind of deal?”

#lizzie saltzman #hope mikaelson #hizzie #Hizzie fanfic #hizzie fanfiction #Legacies #legacies fanfiction

15 notes · View notes

daringyounggrayson · 5 years

Text

boycott love

It’s @flashhwing‘s birthday and they wanted a birdflash fic about warm summer nights and conversations under the stars and things left unsaid. Happy birthday Ash!!

Anyone remember the YJ tie-in comic where the Team went camping to bond and share their backstories? Yeah, I’m doing a missing scene birdflash style.

(AO3)

The sleeping bag rustles as Dick pulls himself forward to rest on his elbows. He’s inches from Wally’s face when he whispers, “Psst, hey Wally, are you still up?”

There’s no response except for the slightest pause in breathing, proving that Wally is in fact awake.

Dick pokes at Wally’s cheek. He whines, “Waaally.”

“Shh, cut that out, I’m sleeping.” He rolls his head away to protect it from Dick’s finger. “Not all of us are training to be part-time vampires.”

Dick puts his hand back down and debates about how he should handle the situation. Usually, Dick can sleep whenever—even if he’s in a different time zone or if he would normally be awake and patrolling; attribute that to a mix of growing up in a traveling circus or his current “sleep when you can or else you won’t get your eight hours” vigilante lifestyle—but everyone talking about their pre-hero lives brought up some unpleasant memories. Some disturbing anti-sleep memories.

He decides to be selfish. Wally can sleep later, plus, the guy kind of owes him for all of the ass-saving over the years.

“C’mon,” Dick says, letting a pleading tone enter his voice. “I can’t sleep. Walk around with me for a bit?”

Wally sighs, taking the bait. “Okay, fine. But I was serious about the not-training-to-be-a-vampire thing—besides, the weekend is when I catch up on my sleep.”

The rustling gets louder as the two of them crawl out of their sacks. “You know that’s a myth, right? You can’t actually catch up on your sleep. Besides, it’s summer.”

“Whatever. Do you want to go or not?” The tent unzips and they climb out.

Dick starts walking in the opposite direction of the cave, careful not to step on any branches and wake the others—wake Supey—and Wally follows suit. He doesn’t know exactly where he’s headed, but he’s familiar enough with the area that he’s not nervous about getting lost.

They walk silently for a long time before Wally comments, “It’s nice out here.”

“Hmm,” Dick agrees. It was hot earlier in the day, and even though it still feels kind of humid, now that the sun has gone down, it’s a comfortable instead of overbearing warmth. He looks up, notices the stars poking through some of the less-crowded branches. “Look, you can see the stars.”

Wally looks up, stops to examine what Dick is staring at. “Wow, they’re really bright out here. By my house, you can usually see the stars, but not like this.”

“You can barely see anything in Gotham. Too many lights. The manor is better, but in the city—eh.” Dick tilts his hand side to side.

“We should find a clearing,” Wally suggests. “Man, I haven’t stargazed since I was a kid.”

Dick snorts. “Your fifteen-year-old status probably means you’re still a kid.”

Wally sticks his hand in Dick’s face, making him laugh. “Shh, you know what I meant. Follow me!” Wally picks up his pace and Dick matches it with ease. He lets Wally lead them to who-knows-where, more focused on breathing in the fresh night air and listening to the chirping crickets than where they’re going. Something about it makes him relax.

They find a relatively clear area closer to the beach than the woods and sit down, side by side and shoulder to shoulder as they look up into the sky with a sense of awe. For a precious minute, that’s all they do.

“So, do you wanna tell me why you can’t sleep?” Wally asks softly, bumping Dick’s shoulder a little without looking away from the sky. “You were quiet at the fire.”

He thought he’d want to talk to Wally about it; he’s done it plenty of times before. But right now, it feels raw and ugly, and he doesn’t want it to ruin the mood that the night’s atmosphere—Wally—put him in.

So instead of answering, he shrugs and falls down onto the soft grass. “Show me some constellations?”

He hears Wally sigh again, but less forced than earlier. This one almost sounds defeated. “Okay.” Wally lies down next to him, and after a few seconds, he lifts his arm and points at a patch of stars. “That one’s the big dipper.”

“Always a classic,” Dick comments as he spots it himself, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Ooh, show me the little dipper next.”

“I would hit you if I didn’t like you so much,” Wally warns him.

Dick snickers.

“Hasn’t Bats already made you learn a ton of these in case a star-themed villain shows up in Gotham?”

“A few, yeah.”

“Then you show me some,” Wally huffs. “I was into constellations when I was like eight; it’s been a while.”

“Please?” Dick asks. “I don’t want to think.”

Wally turns his head to look at Dick, frowning. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine. I just need a distraction, you know?”

“Say no more. Alright, I know there’s a dog out here somewhere.” Dick waits for a couple of seconds while Wally scans the sky. “Got it.” He lifts his arm, pointing toward the constellation. “See that really bright star?”

“That’s Sirius, right?”

“Uh-huh, and if you follow it like this,” Wally traces the sky with his finger, “you’ll see Canis Major. It means the greater dog in Latin.”

Dick smiles, thinking about a tiny Wally with a giant book, reading about this constellation for the first time. Learning the proper name and meaning, probably the myth that went with it. “What’s its story?”

“Umm,” Wally starts as he thinks, eyes presumably looking up and back as he scans his mind for information he hasn’t accessed in years. “So I’m pretty sure in Greek mythology that this was one of the dogs who followed Orion, who was this great hunter. It’s chasing a hare, AKA the Lepus constellation over there,” Wally puts his hand up in the air again. Now that his mind is primed, the constellations seem to be coming to him faster. “See it?”

“Yeah.” Dick tilts his head. “I guess that kind of looks like a hare if you know it’s supposed to be one.”

Wally huffs a short laugh. “Back to Canis Major. It’s associated with Laelaps, the fastest dog in the world who was supposed to be able to catch anything it pursued. One day it was sent after this uncatchable fox, right? But here we have a paradoxical situation because, supposedly, this dog can catch anything and this fox can’t be caught, so they’re just stuck in this never-ending race. Zeus eventually has enough and turns them both to stone. He puts the dog in the sky and—boom—constellation.”

Wally shows him all of the constellations he can remember and find which, honestly, aren’t that many. But it’s fun and eases the tightness in Dick’s chest. Wally’s still-sleepy voice is soothing, and the stories that go with the constellations pull Dick in even farther. For about fifteen minutes, Dick is just a kid looking at stars. For a while, Dick feels like there’s nothing in the world except for Wally, Dick, and the stars.

“I’m running out of content here, so I think this will be the last one,” Wally warns, and Dick hums in understanding. Wally raises his hand, “That one over there is the Apus constellation, AKA the bird of paradise. Apus means footless in Latin, and people used to think that birds—or maybe just birds of paradise? I can’t remember—didn’t have feet.”

When Wally lowers his arm without continuing, Dick asks, “No myth with this one either?”

“I don’t think so, no. But, it’s a bird like you, so maybe it was a vigilante? Let’s say that as a thank-you from the universe, he got to fly forever in the night sky when he was too tired to keep fighting.”

“I like that.”

It’s quiet for a moment; Wally lost in the stars, Dick lost in his thoughts pretending to be lost in the stars. He used to do this with his cousin a lot—or maybe just a few times. It’s hard to remember. It’s been . . . it’s been a while. He was little.

His thoughts bubble up in his chest again, making his eyes water. “Thanks for coming out with me.”

Wally turns his head, the smile he was sporting when he was talking about the constellations has slipped into a sad expression (again), telling Dick his own sadness leaked into his voice (again). Amateur. “You can talk to me. About anything.”

“I know,” Dick says, and he does. Wally’s always been easy to talk to. Had been?

“So, what’s got the Boy Wonder down?” Wally asks, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Dick better. Wally has a soft, trusting smile on his lips and his eyes are scanning Dick’s face for something he doesn’t (can’t) find.

Dick doesn’t move, but he does say, “I used to stargaze with my cousin sometimes.”

Wally’s face falls. He says, “Oh,” in the same way someone would say “oh shit.”

“No, no. This was a good idea; I’ve been thinking about them—him—all night.”

“Oh.” This one is more sympathetic and understanding than anything else.

“We used to climb on top of the trailers and stargaze. We didn’t really know any constellations, so we’d make up our own.” Just like with clouds. “Never with stories, though. John was more into telling ghost stories. I think he made them up; custom-made to scare me.”

Wally laughs at that; it makes Dick smile. “That sounds fun. You guys got along and everything, then?”

“Most of the time, and we were close, too.” Raised more like typical siblings than cousins, what with the close living quarters, hand-me-downs, and dumb squabbles. But there was also teasing and inside jokes and pictures of them in matching outfits and an unbreakable bond they wouldn’t appreciate until they were older (or one of them died). “I never thought about it, but he was really nice to hang out with me so much. There weren’t a ton of kids at the circus, but there were a couple who were around his age.”

“How much older was he?”

“About four years.” He would be thirteen now, the same age as Dick. “I remember I was really jealous of him for a while because he got to do the routine without the net. But now.” Now, not so much. He became jealous again during the funeral, and that stuck around for about a month. He switched from feeling left behind to guilty and then left behind again.

He’s over it now. Most nights.

“Hey, why don’t we get out of here?” Wally interjects, getting to his feet. “I’m starving, and I bet we can find something that’s still open if we try hard enough.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“Come on.” This time, Wally is the one who gets Dick up. Wally grabs both of Dick’s hands and pulls him up. Dick puts up a show of resisting, but he’s already given in. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“Ugh, fine.” Dick pulls his shades out of his pants pocket and slips them on. “But wherever we’re going, we better be getting fries too.”

“I am offended that you would ever think that I wouldn’t do that.”

Dick rolls his eyes, climbs onto Wally’s back, and then they’re off.

oOo

“Alrighty, here we are, two milkshakes and an order of fries,” their waitress—who hadn’t even so much as blinked when two pajama-wearing teenagers walked into the diner at three in the morning—says, moving the items from her tray to the table.

“Thank you,” Dick and Wally say in unison, each pulling their own milkshake closer to themselves.

“Can I get you boys anything else?”

“I think we’re good for now,” Wally says.

She smiles, says, “Enjoy your food,” and then she’s gone again.

Dick picks up his cherry, pulls it free from its stem with his teeth. He’s still chewing when Wally’s lands in his glass. “Since when don’t you like cherries?”

Wally shrugs and grabs the bottle of ketchup, squeezing it next to the pile of fries. “It just looks like you’re having a two-cherry kind of night.”

Dick accepts the gesture and pops the gifted cherry into his mouth, then he starts on the fries before Wally can eat them all.

“What time do you have to be back tomorrow?” Wally asks.

“Sometime before dinner. I might just head back after training, though.” Dick mixes in some of the whipped cream with his straw, then takes a sip. “What about you?”

“Just by curfew. It’ll depend on what the others are doing, I guess.” Wally finishes his milkshake with a loud slurp before licking the last of the whipped cream off of his straw. “Hey, do you know what we’re doing for breakfast?”

“Why are you thinking about breakfast? You’re literally eating.”

“We should all always be thinking about breakfast; it’s the most important meal of the day,” Wally says, pointing his now-clean straw at Dick seriously. “And I was just thinking that the food is pretty good. I bet their pancakes are good too.”

“Then order pancakes now,” Dick suggests. “I kind of doubt we’ll go out. Saturday mornings are kind of crowded, plus I don’t think it’s in the Team’s budget.”

“Fair point.” Wally thinks for a second. “Maybe we should find a 24-hour store. Buy some cereal and pancake mix. I kind of wiped out most of the kitchen and I have no idea what M’gann keeps in the pantry. Or how much. How much do Martians eat anyway? Do you think she’d take it the wrong way if I asked?”

“Wow, I can’t believe she hasn’t shown interest in you yet.” There’s a giant and completely un-hidden grin on Dick’s face.

“Hey! First of all, she hasn’t said she doesn’t have interest. And taking it slow is all part of the Wall-man’s plan.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Alright, Wall-man. Wasn’t this camping trip supposed to just be you and M’gann?”

“Again: it was supposed to be a private camp-fire, which I’m still blaming you for crashing.” Wally punctuates his accusation by throwing a fry at Dick, who catches it in his mouth.

“Again: M’gann invited everyone.” Dick throws a fry into Wally’s mouth.

“Maybe she asked to be nice and you guys were supposed to politely decline?” Wally suggests.

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound right. Besides, I think she wanted to hang out with Supey.”

“Like I said earlier, I would hit you if I didn’t like you so much,” Wally warns, but there’s no real threat. “But I guess the outdoor-camping thing turned out to be better than I thought it would be, and it was probably more fun going as a group because it took some of the pressure off.”

Dick would never say this to Wally’s face, but he gets why M’gann isn’t interested in him. At least that loud, flirting version of him. The real Wally, the one across from him right now, is different. He’s sweet and smart and funny and understanding and the best friend a guy could have. He’d make a great boyfriend.

“Do I have something on my face? Hello, earth to Rob.” Wally’s hand is waving in front of his eyes.

He drops the hand that had been propping up his chin. “Sorry. Just thinking.” He diverts his gaze, drums his fingers on the table for something to do.

Wally seems to hesitate on something, but then he brings his hand up and rests it on top of Dick’s. It rests there and Dick looks at it for a little too long, the back of his neck feeling warmer than it should. And he has no idea why he would have that kind of response; he and Wally are both very openly tactile. He’s just trying to comfort Dick, why does Dick have to read into it like that? Why can’t anything feel normal between them anymore?

(It’s because he’s crushing—hard. Refusing to acknowledge it is making it worse, making the feelings build up until they bubble out in forms of jealousy or frustration or or or. But doing something about it could ruin everything, so Dick’s planning to tough it out until he gets over it. Because, at the end of the day, they’re friends. Just friends, oh dear confused and hormonal teen-brain, friends.)

“Here’s your bill,” the waitress says, causing Dick and Wally to quickly pull their hands apart. “Are you all set with these?”

“Uh-huh,” Dick says, voice cracking a little. He pulls out some cash while the waitress takes their dishes away.

oOo

Fuck puberty. So far, all it’s given him is acne, a voice that cracks, and these new, confusing feelings that could potentially destroy his friendship with Wally like it’s a tower at the end of Jenga. He honestly doubts being able to grow facial hair will be worth it.

oOo

As Dick and Wally walk back through the woods, side by side, Dick realizes that he has never wanted to reach out and hold Wally’s hand more. He pulls his shades out of his pocket, fiddling with them to keep his hands occupied.

“We should do this again,” Wally says.

Dick scoffs. “What? Invite everyone camping and then ditch?”

“No—hang out! Obviously,” Wally clarifies. “Not necessarily the camping thing, but we should definitely do that diner again, it was fantastic. And stargazing was fun, but I’ll have to brush up on some more constellations first. Maybe next time you’ll share some of your ghost stories?”

“Deal.” Dick is smiling, looking up at the stars. It would be nice to make some new memories of things he used to do with his family. “Should I anticipate third-wheeling on you and M’gann? I could get the fourth and fifth wheels on board, make a whole thing of it.”

“Nah, just the two of us.” Wally throws his arm around Dick’s shoulder, a familiar weight. “Not counting tonight, I don’t think we’ve done that in, like, at least a month. I know you don’t have a lot of free time these days, but I kind of miss you, dude. And don’t get me wrong, the other guys are great, but. I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Yeah.” Not bad, just different. And new. But alone with Wally—it’s everything Dick wants and needs desperately to avoid. Ugh, he hates this. Feelings. No wonder Bruce has chosen to boycott them.

oOo

“Hey Wally?”

“Yeah?”

“. . . night.”

“Night. Let me know if you can’t sleep again; we’ll go in—" Wally cuts off with a yawn, “—inside and play video games or something.”

Dick hums and settles down. Wally’s breathing sounds like he’s already asleep again, but Dick . . . Dick has a lot to figure out.

#dick grayson #wally west #robin #kid flash #birdflash #dickwally #young justice #elizabeth writes

106 notes · View notes

sukunassubmissive · 4 years

Text

Part 2

Monsta x wonho

Part 2

In the year of 1697, I being the age of 17 years old. Stare at my father across the table. I think I had just misheard him. I am to be married in the next year with a man who owns his own company; his name of lee Hoseok.

“Excuse me father, what did you say?!” I look over at my mother who looks sad and frightened for me.

“You are to marry this man in the next year. There is no yes or no for you. You will do as your told for this family or you shall perish with your ancestors.” My father says and continues to eat. I stood up from the table and slammed my fist against it. “I shall not!” My father angrily places his silverware back onto the place mat and stands up.

He place shis hands calmly but angry against the table.

“Young lady I shall beat you if you do not listen!” He sternly says and I walk away from the table.

“You will meet him at noon tomorrow for brunch!” My father calls.

I sat in my room with tears falling from my cheeks upon my music sheet notebook. I am not ready to be of marriage.

I fell asleep that night and my maids have woken me up to get ready for this date.

I sigh and as the maids tighten my corset shut tight I breathe in slowly. My tits almost popping out of the dress. I guess it’s dress to impress.

It’s a wonderful maroon tight dress with the butt a little fluff. My heeled boots tight around the ankles.

My hair done up in curls and braided roses with small roses tied in between. The sides like a crown.

My make up done cry lightly with light pink lipstick and curled eyelashes.

I sigh and generally look at my self. I really look like I’m 25 years of age. This man is supposed to be in early 20s I believe.

I walk down my stairs as I heard voices coming from the hall.

My father says “ahhh there she is! My beautiful daughter.” I fake a smile and walk down the stairs softly. I look at the man in front of me. A man worth looking at. His black hair nicely styled and his eyes of sparkle delight. His body so pure of muscle and firm looking. I gulp at his beautifulness.

He smiles of pure white teeth. Perfectly straight.

I advert my eyes away from his beauty and look down in front of me. To see where I am going. I finally made it to the bottom step and place my hands gently in front of me as I place one hand in front of the other.

I smile softly. Maybe this arrange marriage isn’t so bad after all.

“Miss,” the gentleman courtsey toward me as he holds out his hand.

I bow in a courtsey way. And I take his hand gently.

“Mr.” I whisper.

“You May call me Hoseok.” He says and kisses the top of my hand. I blush and turn my head away.

“Mr. lee this is my daughter y/n she is your arranged marriage.” My father spoke calmly to him.

Hoseok softly smiles towards me and then looks back at my father.

“Thank you, sir. I shall take great care of her and your family.”

6months pass by.

Hoseok and I have been on plenty of dates and outings. But this one is special. He’s taking me out on my birthday.

As we walk down the city hall side walks many people pass by and stare at as in awe.

Hoseok grabs my hand and we stop in front of the open ocean gate with many locks attached to it.

“Mrs. Soon to be lee. I ask that you shall marry me if only you wish. If you shall not want to marry me. I must take my leave and find a new bride.” He kneels on one knee. My heart gasps and I breath in. I couldn’t think. For the sixths months we have known each other my heart has done nothing but grown happily with him.

“Do you not love me lee Hoseok?” I question with a smile. “Must you find a new bride just for the fun of it?” I question him again in teasing.

He looks down at the ground and sighs and then looks back up at me with a sad smile.

“Y/n, I have fallen in love with you the moment I met my eyes with you when you were walking down those stairs. Your twinkle in your eyes and the bright smile you placed upon your plump lips. I fell in love with you, then the longer I got to know you, I am in love with you and Y/n I love you til death do us part and after.” He smiles and his sparkle in his eyes glisten of hope and desire.

I bite my lip in anticipation and nod my head with almost tears in my eyes. “Yes lee Hoseok!” He jumps up and picks me up from my bottom and spins me around and I lean down to kiss his lips. Unknowingly this is our first kiss. He deepens the kiss and places my feet back on the ground and runs his hands up to my cheeks and holds my face in his palms softly. His gentle bubble lips smile against my lips.

“Bubble gum.” He whispers against my lips.

I raise my eye brow at him. “Excuse me mr lee?” I ask with a small smirk.

“Mrs soon to be lee. You taste like bubble gum candy.” A dark shade of pink spread across my cheeks and I separate from his body and smack his chest lightly.

“Mr lee shall we continue our date?” He chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist as we walk and I place my hands against one another in front of me elegantly.

6 months more passed.

Wedding day.

It is tradition to never see your bride before the wedding day. So I have not seen Hoseok for about 48 hours. My heart is nervous and I’m scared he will not show. Maybe he changed his mind?

As I’m getting ready. My dress is beautiful like a queen. I was placed with a tiara veil on top of my medium tight curls and braided rose hair. I looked like a real queen. As if I was born one. I smile in my reflection and breath in. My dress tight and fit on top as my tits pushed up perfectly but sexily. The bottom of my dress is Lacey and roundful poofy. Like olden days.

My heals are laced with ribbon and lace around my calves.

“Miss it’s time.” My father knocks and I let him in. “My dear daughter I knew this marriage was good for you.” He laughs and comes over to kiss my forehead. I smile at him.

“You chose the right man daddy.” I say and look down at my dress flattening it and then buffing it up again.

He raises his elbow and smiles. “Ready my darling?” I nod and bite my lip nervously. I place my hand through his arm and the other hand on his bicep.

He walks me down the isle.

I’m not even looking at Hoseok for until half way. I look up and I hear a soft gasp as people stare and smile and cry in awe.

Hoseok I could see him get emotional and tear up. I giggle to my self and my father looks at me and nods his head. He hands me over to Hoseok who takes my hand gently.

The priest stars his chants.

“Now ladies and gentlemen I am here today to read the vows of lee Hoseok and y/n”.

Hoseok smiles down upon me and whispers.

“You’re so beautiful, too beautiful to handle.” I giggle and gave a small wink with a blush to my face.

We say our vows and then

“You May kiss the bride.” The priest says.

Hoseok leans down softly and kisses me gently. His lips warmth of summer breeze and his eyes are closed meaning he means his true kiss. I close my eyes in bliss and I know I have made the right choice in marrying this man. I deepen the kiss as if it was only him and I in the room. I place my hand on the back of his head lightly pressuring his head toward me to deepen the kiss.

We let go and I suddenly hear cheers.

I look around us and see everyone smiling and clapping.

That night we got into our cabin and he picked me up bridal style before walking through the door. As courtesy.

He kissed me and didn’t stop as he carried me through the house up to our now shared bedroom. He places me on our bed and casually pulls the Lacey ribbon from my dress as my dress fell from my body. He places soft kisses against my shoulder. I sigh in content and bliss.

His hands roam my body in desire and love. He’s gentle but lustful.

He leans me against the bed as he pulls the ribbons from my heels.

“My queen, you are my one and only. And I love you.” He says against my baby smooth skin.

That night we made love and it felt like we haven’t had each other in many long years and we just made love to the point it felt like lost time. His touches were longer and needed. My touches were like fireworks to him. It’s as if our past was meant to bring us forth. As if we needed one another. If we lost one another we weren’t gonna live.

He was my life and my soul. We connect souls that night and we knew it.

Two years later.

“Papa! Mama!” Our two year old baby girl cries for us. “Mama! Papa!” I wake up to hear her call. I felt around for the man of my world. Nope. Not in bed. I sat up and got out of bed to go tend to my daughter. To start her day.

I pick her up from her crib/bed and carry her into the kitchen. I see Hoseok sipping his morning coffee as he looks up and smiles at us two. He must have not heard our Baby crying. “Oh good morning my lovely’s. When did you wake up?” He stand up and places a soft kiss agaisnt my cheek and then give our baby a kiss.

“We just woke up love. What are your plans?” I ask softly and place our baby girl down sos eh could late with her toys.

“Well my love. I plan to go to the office and tell them about the idea of time travel! I believe it’s really out there and I am going to find it.” Hoseok smiles encouraging.

I explain to him some ideas and he was shocked I had great theories.

A few months later passed

It seems my theories were right about the ideas of the future and Hoseok came home one frantic evening and called out. “Y/n my love! We must leave now! They are looking for us!” He continues to yell and holler.

Little did he know the towns people have already kidnapped you and your daughter. They have tied and winded you up with branches and rope. You cry in fear of your daughters life and yours. You cry for Hoseok!

“Hoseok!! (Your daughters name)!!” Tears fled from your eyes. You see Hoseok run from around the corner and he screams! “ y/n and your daughters name!!!”

He pushed past the towns people and gets in front of you to protect you. He sees the men with pitch forks and the women yelling and hollering. “Witch! Witch! Witch!” “Die! Die! Die!” They call.

He was so shocked and hurt that his fellow townspeople would try and tear his family down.

Someone from behind me lights my daughters tree on fire. Our baby cries and lucky for Hoseok; he grabs her enough she wasn’t a bit hurt. Tears fell from my eyes as I screamed and cried for my baby and my man to help.

Hoseok tried to negotiate the terms of our survival. And yet not another one listened.

He beat the man down who tried to set our baby on fire.

But another person who happened to be a female set my tree on fire. For some reason it burst into flames more than the other tree. My body started to heat up as my skin felt it was being ripped apart. A boil of pain just ripped through me. My body started to shake in shock. I stared at Hoseok and cried and screamed to help. But I finally accepted the fact of what was happening. The towns people thought my family was cassed with witches Spells and witch craft because Hoseok and I were scientist and smart about the near future.

Hoseok tried to rip apart the tree he didn’t care if he burnt himself but he kept our baby’s safe and tried to set me free. Before he pulled me out. My life had already slipped from my body as I now fall against the wooden pallet. Lifeless and cold. Half my body Burt to a crisp.

Hoseok screamed “nooooooooo!!!!!!!” And our baby’s just cried hysterically.

The next day my body was Berried in his family’s cemetery.

For years he raised our baby until he can no longer with stand the world. Our baby grew up to marry a fine man by the name of shownu. And they had babies all boys.

Eldest son Kihyun

Second eldest minhyuk.

Third eldest jooheon

Fourth eldest Hyungwon

Fifth son was finally Changkyun.

The family of 5 boys and grew their family.

The story of Hoseok and I spread across town and as I was the last “witch” to be burned my daughter brought upon the science to the towns people so they understood better. They gave my daughter and my grandchildren over 5 billion dollars for the inconvenience of my death. Hoseok after watching his grandchildren slowly grow he finally decided it was time to meet me again in another life time.

#kpop #monsta x scenarios #monsta x wonho #monsta x changkyun #monsta x shownu #monsta x kihyun #monsta x minhyuk #monsta x hyungwon #monsta x jooheon #monsta x #monsta x follow #follow alum #find you #monsta x find you #wonho scenarios #monsta x reactions

13 notes · View notes

love-and-monsters · 5 years

Text

Alien Encounter Pt. Four: Stormy Night

Thunder rumbled so close to the house that I could feel the walls and floor tremble around me. Valain, lying several feet away in a mess of blankets, didn’t even flinch. The sheets of rain slamming against the roof and the constant howl of wind outside didn’t bother him either. I was pretty sure he was actually asleep.

I, on the other hand, was completely on edge. I’d been planetside only a few times before and most of those times had been in either an environmentally controlled area or during good weather. It was difficult to land or take off during storms, so pilots tended to avoid them, and being a space baby, I had minimal experience with bad weather.

It really didn’t help that a lot of the sounds and experiences of a storm, the thunder, the constant hammering on the walls, and the shuddering and swaying of the house, all resembled sounds that meant bad news on a spaceship. I kept expecting to hear the screech of warning sirens.

Needless to say, sleep was not coming easily.

The wind howled louder and a crack of thunder came so loud and close that I actually flinched. Even Valain stirred, tucking his tail fins over his face. The wind howled like a terrorized animal and just behind that, I could hear the creaking and groaning of tree branches. I fervently hoped it was not the tree branch we were sitting on.

There was another clap of thunder and the wind picked up. One of the windows near Valain banged open, sending sheets of rain into the room.

My instincts kicked in. I scrambled back, scrambling for anything to hold onto. Hull breach meant that anything not nailed down was going out in space, including, if I was not careful, myself. In the same moment, I gulped in a massive mouthful of air. The breach should be sealed by the automatic systems in a moment, but I needed to make sure I had enough air just in case the system was delayed-

A wet and sleepy Valain slammed the window shut and latched it. “Sorry about that,” he grumbled. “The windows here need fixing. The latches don’t always stand up to the strong storms.”

I let out my breath in a gasp. Valain stared at me. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Why are you against the wall?”

“Oh.” I realized that I had pressed my back against the wall and was digging my fingers into a wooden beam so hard that one of my nails had cracked. My knuckles ached from the force. With a little effort, I relaxed my fingers enough to release the wooden beam.

Valain crossed the room in a few quick bounds, settling next to me. “It’s okay,” he said in a soft, soothing voice. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

I hadn’t realized how much I was gasping until he mentioned it to me. Gradually, I forced my breathing to slow. Another crack of thunder sounded outside and it took all my effort not to jump out of my skin. Valain’s ears twitched and he glanced toward the window, then back to me.

“Is it the storm?” he asked. “You seemed nervous when it started, but I thought maybe you just didn’t like the rain. Is it really that bad?”

I opened my mouth, closed it again, and swallowed my embarrassment. “I’m not scared of storms, really. I’m not a baby.” Valain said nothing, just tilted his head slightly and waited for me to continue. “Look, I’m not used to weather and this storm’s pretty intense.”

Valain let out a strange chuckle that he quickly swallowed when he saw my serious expression. “You’re not used to weather?” he repeated. “But how could you-” He paused. “Oh. You lived in space?”

“Most of the time, yeah. I’m a space baby. I grew up on a big colony ship and even when I left, I went to be a pilot. I get sunlight and even rain and stuff, but storms are just-” Thunder rumbled loud enough to drown out my voice and I couldn’t suppress a flinch. I could feel the sound in the walls of the house. Valain barely seemed to notice the sound. He was entirely focused on me.

“I’m afraid storms like this are only going to become more common,” he said. “It’s the beginning of the storm season now. When it hits its peak, there will be about five or six days of constant storm. Then they will become more infrequent again until the season ends.”

I stared at him. “How do you stand it?”

He shrugged. “It’s not as terrible as you seem to think. Everyone stays indoors and there are holidays we celebrate around that time. It’s peaceful. Usually I spent it with my family. For guards, it’s supposed to be a time of meditation and watchfulness.”

When I was watching Valain, it was easier to ignore the pounding of rain and the howling of wind. I could just listen to his soothing voice and watch his eager expression. I was so intent on watching him that the next bout of thunder startled me. I leapt, half reaching for a console to steer away from whatever was making that sound. It took me a moment to realize that I was still in Valain’s house.

He rose from his crouched position. “It’s all right. It’s just thunder. Just noise.” He smiled encouragingly. “The house is safe from lightning. The storm can’t hurt us.” He took me by one of my shoulders, squeezing gently. “This house has stood for many seasons of storms. Nothing is going to happen.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it didn’t quite calm the pounding of my heart. The constant sheeting of rain against the window, the howling of wind, the constant rumble of thunder, all of it still set my teeth on edge. Valain’s ears twitched, his eyes searching my face. Then he took my hand and tugged me over to the area of the room I’d been sleeping in.

“Sit with me,” he said, pulling me down with him. As soon as I was sitting on the ground next to him, he tugged a blanket around my shoulders. It was heavy and warm and helped ground me where I was. I wasn’t in my spaceship. I was in Valain’s home and it was just a storm. He kept a hand on my back, fingernails scratching gently against my back.

The rain hammered against the house and there was still thunder outside, but it felt like there as a warm bubble surrounding the two of us. It didn’t make anything go away, just muted everything. It made it easier to ignore it.

Valain yawned, jaw clicking as he stretched it wide. “You can go back to sleep,” I said. “I’ll be okay.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, blinking heavily. “Are you sure? I don’t want to…” He cut himself off with another yawn. “I don’t want to leave you if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” I scoffed. “I’m-” The house shuddered with another clap of thunder and I all but leapt into Valain’s lap. He raised an eyebrow, or at least the marks over his eyes that resembled eyebrows. “It’s startling,” I grumbled, creeping sheepishly away from him. His expression was gentle, still. Patient, without a trace of humor in it.

“I’m not making fun of you,” he said. “A lot of people get jumpy in these storms. But it’s all fine.” He ran a hand down my shoulder. “You need to sleep too.”

I grunted. Valain moved closer to me, letting his leg press against mine. His tail swished across the ground behind me, coming to rest just behind me. His yellow eyes were almost luminous in the dim room as he peered at me. “I could try to sleep,” I grumbled. “I just…” I hesitated. “Would you mind staying next to me? It’s a little bit easier if you’re here.”

Valain nodded immediately. He dragged the large, pillowy nest he used as a bed closer. His tail draped loosely over my back as he settled into the bed, pulling me down with him. Thunder banged and the wind howled. Valain’s tail coiled around me, adding some gentle pressure. It was soothing. “Good night,” he said. He curled like a sleeping cat, but his tail still rested next to me. Its delicate fins tickled against my skin. I stared at the opalescent patterns across its surface. They were almost hypnotic. Gradually, staring at them, I drifted off into sleep.

I woke to something pressed against me and something heavy across my back. I could hear and feel breath against my ear, ruffling my hair. Slowly, trying not to disturb Valain, I glanced at him.

In his sleep, he had crept closer to me. His tail had wound around one of my legs and one of his arms was slung over my back. His face was near mine, breathing deep and satisfied. A slight smile played on his lips and his fins twitched slightly. When I tried to move away, his expression shifted to discontent. He mewled and his fingers tightened on my shirt.

Hesitantly, I stopped moving. His expression relaxed and his chin settled on my shoulder. A content sigh escaped him. I glanced around the room. It was still dim outside, so I couldn’t tell what time it was. I was pretty sure I couldn’t fall asleep again with an alien wrapping himself around me.

Valain twitched, lifting one of his hands to rub at his face. A few strands of my hair had fallen across his face. As he turned his head away, his eyelids fluttered. Gradually, he stirred, moving back toward consciousness. His eyes blinked open and he peered at me from a short distance away.

He bolted upright, eyes wild. “I- you-”

I sat up, untangling my legs from his tail. “Are you always so cuddly in your sleep?”

“Wh- I-” Valain still seemed to be rebooting. His bright yellow eyes were as wide as I’d ever seen them and he seemed to be retreating into himself. His tail tucked close to his body and his fins were completely flat against his head. “You were- I didn’t mean- I’m sorry!”

“It’s not like you hurt me or anything. It’s all right.” Valain stumbled back away from me, tripping over pillows. I stared at him. “Are you okay?”

He swallowed hard a few times, then spoke in a soft, shaky voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I apologize immensely. I don’t know… how do I make this up to you?”

Valain looked positively stricken as he stared at me. I lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “You don’t have to make anything up to me. It was an accident. You were asleep.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed. His cheeks were deep blue, which I took to mean he was blushing.

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” I said. A little tension leeched out of Valain’s muscles. He slumped back, tail coiling close around himself. “So, are you always so cuddly in your sleep?”

Valain shrugged. “Not that I know of. I’ve never been told I am.” He scratched at the floor with his claws. “If I had known I would do that, I would have just offered you the bed and slept elsewhere.”

“You didn’t need to do that. It’s not like I minded.”

He frowned. “You didn’t?”

“I mean, it was a little startling, but I’ve been here for a long time without a whole lot of other people. It was nice, being hugged.”

Valain didn’t seem like he knew what to do with that information. He stared at me for a moment, tail waving uncertainly, fins twitching. Finally, he sighed and let out a small laugh. “Well, I’m glad you’re not mad at me.” He stretched, then stood. “The storm’s over, at least. I should probably go and do a patrol while it’s still clear out.”

He gathered his bag and changed into his patrol uniform, waved goodbye, then ran off into the forest. I sat by the doorway, watching the forest as the sun rose and feeling the phantom traces of Valain’s arms around me.

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #alien boyfriend #alien #monsterxhuman

136 notes · View notes

tonguesanndteeth · 4 years

Text

Tongues & Teeth Chaper: 3

Jasper stared blankly at the phone in his hand, the illuminated screen going blurry as he let his eyes unfocus. He was scared, truth be told, to dial the number on the back of the battered cigarette box. It had been a day since Teddy had given it to him and the thought of hearing her voice on the other end of the receiver did strange things to his mind.

He had been content with the way things were going, with the unspoken routine he and the human girl had fallen into. But now everything had changed. The ball was in his court and he only had two options.

One: he could call her. He wanted to, he did, but it would be another dangerous step over the line he had drawn for himself.

Two: he could ignore the situation. Not call her. Never go back. But the idea of this twisted uncomfortably inside him.

Teddy obviously had some amount of emotion invested in this...whatever it was they were doing. It would hurt her feelings if he dropped off the face of the earth. Jasper didn’t know if he could bear to feel that, a genuine hurt that he knew he was responsible for, in the heart of a girl who felt so purely. How could he hurt the person who had breathed a spark of life into his decayed soul?

Maybe Teddy wasn’t the only one who was emotionally invested. God, what had he gotten himself into?

Before he could second guess himself Jasper hit the dial button, locking a breath in his chest as it rang.

“Hello?” came Teddy’s familiar voice. She sounded younger over the phone, somehow. Jasper wasn’t sure why he found that amusing.

“Hello,” he replied. He hadn’t planned out what he wanted to say. What could he say? Nothing was safe for her to know about him.

“Jasper,” she breathed. Did it sound like she was smiling? He hoped she was.

“I wasn’t expecting you to call,” Teddy said after a moment of charged silence.

This confused Jasper. Why would she have given him her phone number if she didn’t want to speak to him?

“I can hang up if you want me to..?”

‘No,” she laughed, “no, don’t hang up. I just can’t remember the last time anybody actually called me. Even the elderly text now.”

“I guess I’m a little old fashioned,” Jasper said ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t mind.” She was definitely smiling.

“So, what are your plans for the evening?” he asked, desperate to fill the space between them with something, anything. Words would have to do for now.

“Hmm, nothing much. Just a hot date with a research paper.”

“Sounds thrilling,” he laughed.

“Oh, yeah. He’s seven whole pages. It’ll be a wild night for sure.”

“Impressive. I guess I’ll leave you to it, I’d hate to interrupt the fun.”

“Yeah...I was kind of hoping this other guy would ask me out tonight, though. Tall, blonde, name rhymes with Shmasper Shmale. Maybe you know him?”

Oh.

“Huh, now that you mention it, the name does ring a bell.”

“Well, if you see Shmasper, tell him to meet me at the coffee shop on Oak and 38th.”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

“See you at eight,” she laughed, and then the line went dead.

Jasper’s head was spinning as he set down his phone. This was amazing. This was terrible.

So many questions were running through his mind. Jasper was dying to know what she was like outside of the insular little bubble they’d created. Did she speak to other people the same way that she spoke to him, look at them with the same piercing green gaze? But more so, he wondered why she seemed to enjoy his company. He was everything that was wrong for her.

Jasper knew he’d have to take precautions tonight. He’d have to hunt before he saw her just in case the temptation was too strong. Recently he’d taken to feeding more frequently in a feeble attempt to quell the insatiable, dry ache he felt in Teddy’s presence.

Human blood was rapturous torture to be near, if she got so much as a paper cut he wasn’t sure he’d be able to control himself. Having clumsy, breakable Bella join his family while he was still human had been hard. Jasper had shown a lot of growth through that challenge though. The scent of her was all over his home in Forks, soaking through the air and into the furniture. Truly, it had been agony. But that was fifteen years ago now, and he’d come a long way in terms of restraint.

It wasn’t too long of a run from Jasper’s apartment to the thickly forested area where he often hunted; somewhere too rugged for hikers to interfere, to tempt him. On days where he had more time he liked to travel upstate to the Adirondacks. He could hunt bigger game there, with more land to cover and more species to choose from. Jasper wasn’t sure he’d ever be satiated with the tangy, musky taste of elk or bison. Herbivores where wholly unappealing. Predators, carnivores, they were always preferable, but less abundant.

He was hoping he’d get lucky as he ran, silent and graceful, through the woods. Branches and foliage whipped past his face, the soft black earth giving way beneath his powerful strides. Jasper listened to the sounds of the forest around him. It was teeming with life. He could hear the tiny scurrying of squirrels and chipmunks as they instinctively retreated for cover. They knew they were in the presence of a killer. The birds went silent as he passed, as though a storm was approaching. His perfect teeth the bite of lightning, his muscles rolling thunder.

Jasper caught wind of something a few miles northeast and followed the scent, prowling towards the smell of raw lichen, petrichor, and unshed blood. The heart that contained it beat thickly, the muscle pulsing and pumping in a steady rhythm.

He could hear heavy footfalls, the padding of paws. It hadn’t sensed him approaching. Jasper took to the trees to stalk the creature from a better vantage point. He spied it then, an adolescent black bear feasting on a bramble of berries. It wasn’t terribly big, but it would do.

Typically he liked to savor his kills, especially now that he didn’t have his brothers around to spar with. He wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as Emmett though, he didn’t goad on grizzlies or “play with his food” as Esme so lovingly called it. But tonight he wanted to make it swift. It wouldn’t be wise to get caught up in the hunting mindset and be boiling with bloodlust. It was frightening how easy it could be to transition that hunger elsewhere. Still, the scent of his prey turned him ravenous and he sank into a crouch, flexing his fingers in anticipation.

In a fraction of a second he dropped down, the surprised young bear screaming out. It tried desperately to find purchase against Jasper’s granite skin, snapping wildly with its canines and raking him with its claws. The attempts were feeble and short lived, however, as Jasper sank his teeth into the bears throat. The hot flow poured into his mouth until the beasts heart finally stuttered to a halt.

Jasper wiped his mouth and pushed the mass of fur off of him. He reached into his pocket and checked the time on his phone, smiling slightly to himself. She wanted to see him. Of all the things this little human girl could be doing on her Friday night, in her painfully short life, she wanted to spend it with him.

Feeling lighter inside than he had in half a century, Jasper turned and ran towards something instead of away.

#chapter 3

1 note · View note

turtle-steverogers · 5 years

Text

the good and the bad

hi i want bread

warnings: death uh, crying

editing: no

ship: ralbert

word count: like 2000 ish

September 23

Leaves crunched under Race’s shoes, the noise amplified by the accompanying silence. It was warm still, the sun bleeding persistently through the trees, combated only by the few leaves that remained on the branches. There wasn’t a clear path through the woods. The thick underbrush made it nearly impossible to walk normally, but he persisted, trudging onward.

He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going. He just needed to clear his head; get out of the house for a little while. He was craving somewhere new and exotic, but his options were limited within his small hometown.

So he decided to expand his horizons within the confines of his little bubble. Explore a little- find somewhere new and refreshing.

So when his legs carried him off of the sidewalk and into the expansive stretch of woods that surrounded his neighborhood, he resolved to trusting his instinct.

It was a pleasant Fall day. Entirely ideal for this sort of adventure and he smiled, feeling at ease in his afresh solitude. The land sloped downward and the tangle of trees thinned out to reveal a small clearing.

Yellow grass blanketed the flat land, countered only by the small clumps of flowers that were scattered at random. The tree line seemed to create a perfect circle, sheltering the area from the outside world.

Race had long since lost track of the sound of traffic and other clues to life, but he didn’t mind much. He was getting what he came for.

He trailed along the edge of the clearing, coming to a halt in front of two trees. He sat down, leaning his back against the trunk of the nearest tree and closing his eyes, allowing the sounds of nature to swallow him.

“Yo,” a voice sounded directly above him and his eyes flew open, his heart leaping into his chest as he froze. Someone dropped out of the tree adjacent to him, sticking the landing heavily.

Race’s gaze traveled from the guy’s shoes to his face, taking note of the utterly obnoxious way he was dressed. Despite his borderline fuckboy clothing, he was charming- attractive even. The sun reflected flatteringly in his auburn hair and he seemed to have a permanent glint in his eyes.

The guy barked out a laugh, “Didn’t mean to scare you, sorry, but,” he raised his eyebrows, “did you just check me out?”

Race fought the smile that threatened to grow on his face, “Nah, bro, you just literally landed in my line of sight.”

The guy studied him for a moment before plopping down in front of him, crossing his legs and sticking out a hand, “‘Sup, bro, I’m Albert.”

Race allowed a small smirk to form as he took Albert’s hand, “Race.”

“Race,” Albert said, slowly, “exotic, I like it.”

“It’s not exotic,” Race countered, “It’s a nickname.”

“Even cooler,” Albert said, “So,” he leaned back, propping himself up on his forearms and stretching his legs in front of him, “what brings you to my woods?”

Race cocked his head, letting out an amused huff, “Your woods?”

“Hell yeah, man,” Albert said, throwing his head back and looking towards the sky, his hair falling behind him, “been coming to this place to catch my breath since I found it like a year ago. No one else has ever come, so I called dibs on it.”

Race quirked an eyebrow, “How could you call dibs when no one else was around to challenge that.”

Albert furrowed his eyebrows and looked back at Race, “Uh,” he paused, “well you’re here now, so, dibs.”

September 24

“Welcome back.”

Race grinned up at Albert where he was standing on a branch right above his head.

“Couldn’t stay away?” Albert asked, sitting on the branch and reaching a hand out to help Race up.

Race floundered for a moment before settling beside Albert, dangling his legs towards the ground, “Guess I couldn’t,” he admitted, “S’nice here.”

“Sure is,” Albert said, turning to face Race and sitting back against the trunk, propping one leg on Race’s lap and letting the other swing back and forth, suspended in the air.

Race looked down at the leg on his lap, “Already on this level, huh?”

Albert laughed, lifting his leg and poking Race in the chin with his shoe. Race yelped rearing backwards slightly and nearly losing balance. Albert’s eyes widened and he sat up hastily, grabbing Race’s bicep before he could fall completely.

“Whoop, sorry about that,” he said, sincerely.

“You’re good,” Race said, gripping Albert’s hand to steady himself, “I’m good.”

The silence they fell into was oddly comfortable. Although Race hadn’t known Albert for very long, but something about him felt familiar- reassuring- and as they sat in the tree, watching the sky turn from dull blue to orange, he couldn’t help but feel as if something had led him here. A pull stronger than curiosity.

October 14

“You okay?”

Albert wasn’t in the tree when Race showed up. Instead he was sat on the grass, knees bent in front of him. His eyes looked oddly devoid of their usual glint and Race frowned, worry spreading through his chest. He didn’t give any hint as to whether he’d heard Race or not and Race could see his fingers twitching as he fiddled with his watchband.

“What’s up?” he asked gently as he sat next to Albert.

Albert’s eyes flicked towards him for a moment, the only acknowledgement he’d made to his presence so far. He didn’t answer the question directly, his shoulders shrugging somewhat uncomfortably as he spoke.

“M’not gonna be good company right now, you don’t gotta stick around.”

Race grimaced, “We don’t gotta talk about it, but I’ma stay, dude.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I like it here, too,” Race said, “And I care about you, I don’t want you to be alone.”

Albert nodded, lowering his chin to his knees, “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Anytime.”

The breeze around them picked up, and Race clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering. He scooted towards Albert slightly, hoping he’d take the invitation. To Race’s surprise, he did, tucking his head onto his shoulder and shifting closer as well. It wasn’t much, but it provided some shield against the wind.

“We should bring a blanket out here or something,” Albert stated, “It’s getting too fucking cold.”

“It’s not that cold,” Race pointed out, “Only, like, 50 something degrees.”

“Too cold,” Albert pouted.

Race laughed, shrugging the shoulder Albert was leaning against, “Alright, buddy.”

Their breaths synced, an even rhythm echoing between them. Race closed his eyes, allowing tranquility to envelope him. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but neither of them seemed to want to move.

“My little brother is sick again,” Albert spoke softly, “And he’ll be fine, I hope, but shit in my house always gets really hectic when he gets flare ups and I just,” he sighed, moving almost impossibly closer to Race, “I wish it didn’t have to be like that.”

Race nodded, placing his hand over Albert’s and rubbing his thumb across his knuckles soothingly, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Albert said, trailing off for a moment before continuing, “It hurts seeing Elijah like that and I know it hurts my dad and Thomas, too. I wish we could all just be happy and healthy.”

“You will be one day,” Race tried to console him, “One day, Elijah’s gonna beat this shit and you’ll all live long, happy, healthy lives together.”

“I hope so.”

October 31

“Broughtcha some candy, dumbass.”

Race had gotten there before Albert that day, opting to arrive early and set up the mini blanket fort under the tree they’d been plotting for ages while Albert took his brothers trick or treating.

He peeked his head out from the blanket that draped down from the lowest branch, acting as a door. Albert was staring at the fort with wide eyes, pillowcase full of candy in hand.

“This is sick,” he breathed, snapping out of his reverie and joining Race inside.

He’d opted out of adding a roof, content with peering upwards past the treetops where faint, twinkling stars could be seen.

“I know, I slaved on it for hours for you,” Race teased, plucking a snickers bar out of the bag and popping it in his mouth.

“Fake,” Albert said, smiling at him.

“You’re right,” Race said through a mouthful of chocolate, “Took me like fifteen minutes.”

They laid back on the comforter that Race had laid out as the floor, pulling another blanket over themselves as they settled in. They curled into each other, fitting together like a puzzle piece. It felt natural, the way they melded into one another so seamlessly, a silent understanding ingrained into their souls.

Race rested his head on Albert’s chest rolling over enough so he could still see upwards. He could feel Albert’s heart beating beneath him. The steady pulse grounding him and pulling him further into the earth, cementing warmth into his stomach.

He lifted his head, rolling onto his stomach and propping himself up onto one elbow. Albert looked down at him, a silent question in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it, eyes flicking almost inconspicuously down to Race’s mouth.

Race leaned forward, eyes falling closed as he pressed his lips to Albert’s. They let out simultaneous sighs, the final knot tied as they deepened the kiss.

Neither of them pulled back for a while, losing themselves in each other. Eventually, Race leaned away, keeping his eyes closed as he felt a smile stretch across his face.

A hand brushed his face and he opened his eyes, seeing Albert looking back at him with an awed expression.

“I love you.” Albert’s voice was a faint whisper, the words reserving themselves for only Race.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back.

November 11

Race sat and waited in the clearing, hours upon hours passing with no Albert. Figuring he must have just been busy, Race left.

November 20

Once again, Race was left alone in the clearing. This time, a sick feeling in his gut growing more intense as the minutes passed. He hadn’t heard from Albert in days. Something wasn’t right.

November 30

A month since the kiss. Three weeks since he’d last seen Albert. No sign from him. No explanation. Nothing.

Race sat numb, back against the same tree as he stared at the sky, wishing for answers it couldn’t provide.

December 3

It was officially cold. The real definition, not Albert’s, and as Race trekked towards where he’d discovered the other boy lived, he couldn’t stop his body from shaking.

Partly from nerves, mostly from the biting wind.

He knocked at the door, shoving his hands in his pockets as he waited. A boy, no older than 13 answered, staring at him with quizzical eyes.

“Yes?”

“Uh, hi,” Race swallowed, the realization that he had no idea what he was going to say hitting him like a truck, “I’m a friend of Albert’s, are you Elijah?”

The boy shook his head, “Nah, Thomas.”

“Right, sorry,” Race said, “uh, nice to meet you, is Al home?”

Something in the boy’s face changed and his eyes grew cold as he answered, “He’s not here anymore.”

The world seemed to muffle and Race shook his head, confused, “What do you mean?”

The boy blew a breath out through his nose and he looked to the side, “I mean,” he looked back at Race, eyes glistening, “He’s not here anymore. Freak football accident. You’re his friend, didn’t you hear about it?”

But Race couldn’t hear anything anymore. He distantly heard himself thank Thomas and turned away before the door closed. The world was spinning as he walked. He couldn’t hear his footsteps, or the sounds of the street, or his own thoughts as he walked on autopilot to the place he’d grown so used to visiting.

The clearing seemed darker than it had been before, less welcoming and entirely unfamiliar.

The blanket fort was still up. He hadn’t bothered to take it down. Besides, Albert and him had planned to use it more. One of the blankets blew in the wind, falling unceremoniously from the tree.

It seemed to wilt along with the rest of the place. Even the trees had lost their charm.

Race became acutely aware of the tears that stained his cheeks. He only just remembered to breathe as sobs forced their way out of his stomach in painful waves.

He didn’t remember walking to the fort, or taking down the blankets, attempting to fold them nicely, but giving up halfway through and discarding them with an angry shout.

He wished he’d never come here. He wished that he’d stayed painfully oblivious to the beautiful clearing and the beautiful boy it had brought with it.

But he was cursed with the fate of meeting Albert. Cursed with the fate of falling in love with him.

Doomed with the fate of losing him.

He sat down heavily on one of the blankets, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Eventually he stood back up, crossing to their tree and clambering onto their branch. He struggled to stay balanced. Albert was usually there to help him stay on.

As his tears ebbed away, leaving him empty and hopeless, the life of the forest seemed to rush back to him.

Animals were still traipsing. Wind was still blowing through the trees. Life was still going.

But he was gone without him.

maybe i should write some Not Angst next, thoughts?

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @bencookisagod @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @tommy-boyyy

@andthewoildwillknow @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @sunshine-e-cigarettes

@have-we-got-news-for-you @musical-shitposts @thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen

@stopthe-presses

@elmers-half-a-cup

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@spot-me50-papes

@honeynutpoptarts

@newsies-ensemble

@bennie-badeend

@auspicioustarantula

@faithmil

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@bxnesof92

@backgroundnewsies

@sure-as-a-star

@skybert-daherty

@bouncyscreamingnewsboys

@malex-13

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@heart-a-n-o-n

@ripped-rhino

#newsies fic #newsies #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #chaotic boys #chaotic sad boys #yikes #adlskfjsdl

49 notes · View notes

umbralreaper · 6 years

Text

Burning Memory

//A drabble about an important event that occurred in Kayn’s past. Featuring your local demonic virtuoso... Heh.

Warnings: Gore and stuff.

Even back when I was a young fool, I always knew something truly horrifying was out there.

Master Zed provided me with answers only when they were necessary. Sometimes, I suspected he didn’t know the answers to the questions I asked him. He had his ways of curbing my curiosity, to silence me before I’d ask more. I was used to learning quickly, and eventually kept most of my questions to myself. I spent my younger years, lying awake at night thinking potential answers to those questions, from the simple and easy to the complicated and elaborate.

Like, are there demons out there?

What a silly question. Of course there are, those mysterious wisps from the Shadow Isles. Zed said first. Perhaps he thought it over and realized a potentially deeper curiosity to the question. Human demons? Maybe... He had added. Many who have fallen to their darkest desires become devilish versions of their former selves. He seemed quite pensive when he said that.

Oh, I know. But… Master. I hesitated. Those demons… are there out there, looking at us? I made it a point to look out the window when I asked.

He would follow my gaze, then direct his eyes to me, wondering if I meant what I said. Perhaps he didn’t want to find out. He would announce it dinner time, and usher me out of the dojo before I could gather up my courage to ask again.

It still wouldn’t change the fact I’ve seen eyes in the darkness of the Ionian forests. Hidden behind the leaves and branches, I’d see glimpses of something out there, something I imagined as a red eyed beast with massive horns. Always after I saw the flashes, I’d hear a shrill and frail yelp of terror from the woods, echoed only by the twisted chattersome birds that would repeat all the sounds they heard, from the falling of rain to the screams of dying men.

Even after I had acquired Rhaast, my curiosity still led my explorations deep into the woods. There are even depths of the woods even people trained in the highest of self-defense felt unnerved of going to. It was as if the trees would whisper, wind flowing through their leaves like a quiet whistle of fallen spirits. It was one of these eager trips that had led me to my small camp in one of the darker fringes of the forest.

“Even as prideful as you are, I see the fear within you.” Rhaast crowed, his words sinking into my heart and mind, it’s claws tightening against my soul. “Who knew… the ‘master of the shadows’ is still a mere child at heart! Scared of the dark… how pathetic.”

“Be quiet Rhaast.” I would snap back. But I knew he was right. Perhaps I dreaded the unknown, what could possibly be out there. The shadows took me only so far. There were reaches of the forests in Ionia so dark, even I could not see where they lead. Without a hint of light. I hadn’t fully mastered my powers, and I was unwilling to test my limits. Especially with a spiteful weapon goading me and taunting me at my side.

“Are you scared of demons, dear little Kayn?” He whispered to me from the side of my sleeping mat. “I’m astonished how you’ve become my master… Small scared little Kayn…”

I turned under my sheet and grumbled to myself, ignoring his words. I faced the ground in front of me and counted slowly in my head to lull myself into a sleep. I was interrupted with a loud snarl and shriek. I jolted awake, and Rhaast was laughing softly to himself, from his spot next to my mat. “I’m trying to sleep, dumb scythe.” Kayn hissed. He glared at the bloodshot eye that blinked at him. “Oh, that wasn’t me if you’re accusing me. I’m merely amused by your reaction… ha ha…” His words sent a shiver down my spine. Damn this weapon.

“Ha ha! You’re so amusing, Kay- Wait, what are you doing? Set me down, I thought you were going to return to sleep.” Rhaast sounded rather disgruntled as I picked him up and flipped him up to grip. “Silence. You’re a scythe, you don’t need sleep.” I ignored Rhaast’s grumbling in protest and stepped towards the source of the sound. No one ventured this deep in the forest, so my camp should be undisturbed and safe. Checking what made that noise wouldn’t take too long, I hoped.

It didn’t take me long to shadow walk to the origin of the noise. I followed the faintest of glows of light, seeping from in between the leaves. I had never been so deep in this part of the forest, and I mentally prepared myself for what I was about to see.

All of that preparation was for naught, as I would have been never prepared to see what I did. The sight that unfolded in front of me was a lot more than I thought I would see… in a life time.

A man lay on the forest floor, his innards spilling forth from a large laceration cutting from his left leg up to the center of his chest, only stopping at the neck. The man’s face was pale, and judging from the amount of blood that leaked from the body, he had been lying there for some time. The stench of blood and bile filled the air, invading my lungs and sickening me from inside and out. A lantern was toppled over, the flames slowly dancing towards the leaves that lay around the man.

I was no stranger to suffering, death and gore. Why was this effecting me the way it was? What caused the tightness in my chest, the dizziness in my mind?

It must have been the light still in his eyes.

“You… monster.” The body spoke, jolting me from my position up in the trees. I didn’t lose my balance, but came close to. “You think this… this is a game?”

“Hmm… you do talk quite a lot.” I looked and saw a figure step from the blanket of darkness and into the light from the spilling lantern. His arms coated in red, glinting in the light. His face obscured with a demonic mask, with two horns protruding from the front. He a blue eye and a red one, with the crimson glowing like a burning flame. His presence commanded you to listen, to listen to the soft, almost melodic tone to words he uttered. “Your children screamed less when they were being put on display.” “Bastard!” The body on the floor choked, and spat out blood. His coughing and gurgling had effecting his ability to breathe, as blood was bubbling profusely from his neck. He blinked, and the light faded from his gaze, and they went glassy. The other chuckled, a sound that starkly contrasted the suffering the one on the floor was enduring. He seemed to be holding something in his hand, a small glassy bottle with what looked like ink that looked red like the darkest shades of blood. The contents of the bottle seemed to me alive, moving of its own will. It was spilled onto the corpse, and with a jolt from the body the man was breathing again, painfully, but breathing.

“Ooo. How interesting.” Rhaast said softly, speaking in my mind. If he could read what was etched in my thoughts, he would probably be laughing at me, but for a different reason. He would might grow curious at my slowly changing impression… Too many potential questions, so I ignored him.

The man’s torture was never ending. Whenever the mutilated body grew still, the blood ink would return and he would be back, each time more panicked and desperate than the last.

Finally, he was sobbing. Tears dribbled from those eyes, wetting the drying blood painted on his face. “Fine... Fine… You can have it. I… I can’t do this anymore… I… let me die. Please! PLEASE LET ME DIE!” The figure took a few steps forward and nudged his exposed heart with his foot. My grip on Rhaast tightened ever so slightly. The dying man groaned and shuddered.

“I love to hear you beg.” The standing demon spoke. His eyes growing wider and brighter, the tone in his voice turning almost seductive. “I love it so much, that maybe I’ll let you die.” “Oh… thank you. Thank you…” The man’s words became a mad man’s insane babble, with him repeating his words without reason.

The demon began to walk around the man, pausing only to make a thoughtful noise. His eyes wandered over to the spreading fire of the lantern, which was now a small flame. “Hmm… Ah. I got it.” He suddenly lunged towards the man, forcing the bottle to his bloodstained and cut lips. The man started kicking, fighting as much as he could. My heart seemed to shudder when I realized what was going to happen, as if I was just as entranced in the show as the demon himself. When the demon retreated finally, he tilted the bottle to pour out the rest, trailing the ink from the body towards the growing flame of the lantern. The man, invigorated with the mysterious life giving ink, seemed to realize what his fate was to be. “N…No! No…no no no… Please…. Not this.”

“Your parents died in a fire, didn’t they? They lost their lives to a fire” He mused. “I wonder…” The demon trailed off. “They never did find the culprit of the crime. Of course… there was a suspect. But who would suspect their only child, whom they loved so dearly?”

“How-”

The demon chuckled as the ink trail began to catch on fire, with the flames growing larger and stronger. “Now, I bid farewell. This fire will die out in two days, as the rain will come. Unfortunately for you, it’ll be too late for you.” The demon waved at the corpse, still smiling with those glowing eyes. For a split second, I thought those eyes seemed to see me, as if for the shortest of moments our eyes were connected. He seemed to sink into the forest floor in a darkened puddle, as the flames grew higher and higher. The man’s pleas and cries were soon engulfed in flames as he began to scream.

“Ah! Now that’s what you call a show!” Rhaast laughed freely, no longer having to hide his thoughts to himself. “Your killings never have the satisfaction. I do love swift death as much, but ah… this satisfies all my senses.”

Even Rhaast’s words were lost on my ears as all I could hear was the crackling of flames as they engulfed the body and spread. The screaming was piercing, like arrows of sound shooting straight through my ears. I would never forget. Nor could I forget the… man who had done it.

Gazing upon the flames, the magenta burned itself into my eyes, as soon I was lost in it’s display of colours. The scream had faded, and all it left behind was a spectrum of light and hue that made my heart race. My emotions were jumping, with the leftover fear and disgust slowly melting away into… awe.

Soon, the flames had devoured the entire clearing. I had to leave, my sweating hands gripping Rhaast as he chuckled the whole way back to camp. I quickly packed up my things and traveled a safe distance away, just to make sure. I found it difficult to sleep, and found myself perched on a tall tree, gazing out at the small flicker of light from the fire. As hours passed, it would blossom into a flowery blaze, it’s petals reaching all directions as it spread without limit. I distracted myself with a short break for food and water, and a quick wash, but I returned back to my spot in the tree to watch as the blaze grew and grew.

I had lost myself in the view, for what seemed like days. I lost track of time, as all I could see was the growing and spreading fire. Sooner than I expected, I felt a wetness on my face. I lifted my hand, and felt droplets land on my skin. Gazing up, I saw gray storm clouds. The rain had come, as the demon has predicted.

Soon the blossom diminished in size. It quickly died, leaving behind a small smudge in the forest, of darkened ashes and smoky black. The flower had died, and returned to the dirt where it came.

“Ah… the show is over? I loved seeing that… Oh well. Back to killing, Kayn.” Rhaast spoke, interrupting the stream of my thoughts.

I hesitated. Then nodded. “Yes. I had a long enough break. I’m ready to fulfill my purpose.”

Despite shooting down every accusation from Rhaast, I always yearned to come face first with the demon again. His lust for death, yet in such a beautiful and enamoring way. His sadism, yet it seemed it was done with love for his purpose. I had dreamed of meeting him again, encountering him in a wide myriad of ways. Sometimes, I watched another show. Other times… I was the subject of it. I wanted to see more, I needed to.

Who knew I would meet him again.

Fate sure had its mysterious ways.

#umbralreaperwriting #guess thats my writing tag

3 notes · View notes